I remember where I was when I heard the news that Chadwick Boseman has passed away from a long battle with cancer. I was in a tropical jungle up on the hills, taking a brief break, when a friend broke the news that the man who was best known for playing the Black Panther was gone.
And this is my tribute to him, the man that inspired a generation, a man that was perhaps taken before his time.
However brief his life was, the legacy he left behind will resonate for generations to come. Rest in power, Chadwick Boseman.
A character that has undergone more change than any other superhero in the franchise (both in physical appearance and personality), our lumbery friend has always captured the hearts of fans with his helpfulness and humour.
I admit I’m not usually one for jumping on the pop culture superhero comic bandwagon (or copyright infringement, for that matter), but I couldn’t help entertaining this random thought that came into my head a few days ago.
Talk about a delayed reaction.
I wasn’t even watching any Marvel movie or ogling Peter Quill or anything!
Anyway, I know it’s a bit late to the party, but here is my random contribution to the superhero pop culture. Enjoy the Froots of my labour!
Don’t get too Frooty now!
And there’s some other message in there…maybe about the importance of eating fruit or something. Whatever.
Spiciness is a most curious trait in our world. Certain plants and herbs have the ability to mildly harm or stimulate our senses, not enough to maim or kill us, but enough to make us uncomfortable…and wonder if we should be eating it in the first place.
Chillis and spices are a strange and wonderful bunch that are used in almost every culture, but what could their purpose be?
At the end of the day, are chillis a form of drug – something to stimulate and enhance the senses? Or are they therapeutic?
Do they play a role in selective propagation? Only the animals like birds that are unaffected by spiciness will happily eat the spicy fruit and seed and carry them far away?
Or…are we just being masochists?
Nature certainly works and strange and mysterious ways.
There is an interesting Thai saying that goes:
“A crow holds the chilli in its mouth.”
I’m not entirely sure of its meaning, and how it would translate into English. What do you think it means?
I wonder how the ancients decided upon such doubtful and highly charged questions?
I suppose they had more pressing issues, like trying not to starve to death.
In the end it boils down to our modern societal structure and first world problems, such as an abundance of choice. Endless choices and options.
In almost everything, we are faced with a multitude of options: what to eat, what to wear, how to construct my multi-faceted, highly-customised Subway sub.
We are a generation of choice, with a world of options, so many places to visit, so many career paths to choose from, so many potential mates, so many events and so little time.
So is really deciding on what to eat a question as old as time? Or are we simply tarrying and trying to delay our inevitable demise as our clock ticks ever onward, counting down toward our doom?
So next time you’re faced with the exquisitely difficult question of what to eat, remember that in the end we are but microscopic tadpoles floating in a cesspool of swirling decay and the illusion of choice.
Yes, you don’t really have a choice. The decision was already made an eon ago. The cake is a lie. It was all a test. Just go with the flow and shovel it down your gullet and be happy like a good little peon.
Have you ever had to wake up super early in the morning, before the crack of dawn for an outdoor activity? And it’s pouring down outside?
Or just waking up to be greeted by rain, and having the luxury of being able to go back to sleep?
Isn’t it simply the best feeling in the world?
Early morning showers are the best!
I’m sure those dirty, dirty pluviophiles will dig this.
So this morning I was intending to wake up nice and early to go for a cool bike ride, but I woke before my alarm to the familiar tapping on my window. The repeated tapping of big, fat raindrops committing suicide upon my window.