Egging the Egger
The man knew eggs--there was no doubting, pondering, and/or debating this unalterable fact: The man knew eggs.
Toku Hashi was a temperate man who lived in the heart of neon-lights-filled Tokyo. He lived alone and had no family left on Earth except his half-brother: Hoku, who lived somewhere in the boondocks of Greenwich, Connecticut--unknowingly to Toku--and fished for a living, selling his well-earned catches to a local “Fjord Fishery.”
Back to Toku Hashi:
His most grueling journey began in the fall of 2012 when his business was thriving like no other period. As a gardener witnessing the journey of an apple seed --from the transformation of the space within the seed and the watering of the seed’s exterior, leading to the angelic joy of its final manifestation as a bright red apple loosely hanging from its tender branch, so was Toku’s happiness of his current business ventures.
What was his business one naturally asks? For the answer, we must time travel to the fateful day in Colombia where Toku Hashi and Mr. Andres met.
Early morning: The Bright Flaming Disk pierces its rays onto the dewy grass penetrating a lonely brown hut supposedly housing very calm chickens. Absorbed silence is palpable around the farm with associated nature sounds expected from a farm in the heart of Colombia.
Andres A.--the sole owner of the farm--rested on his half-broken mahogany rocking chair, equipped with a white porcelain cup of coffee: el daily tinto, while watching the Hot Flaming Disk shoo the Moon out of its spotlight. He raised his mouth to the topmost layer of the hot porcelain--enjoying every second of the journey--with a rewarding sip of his most recent self-harvested coffee: La Esencia. The last harvest was bountiful beyond measure and brought him pounds upon pounds of beans, a surplus in which he had to give away 1/3rd of the batch to a neighboring farm so the beans wouldn’t rot and go to waste.
The other 2/3rds were sold to a coffee shop in Portland, Oregon who only buys their coffee from Andres. Why only him? If it must be explained, Fabian, who now refers to himself/herself as Rhondo/Rhonda depending on the circumstance, were college roommates at Princeton for 3 years straight. That is until they were both expelled in their last semester of senior year for a malfeasance both of them are still proud of and somehow mention in every other conversation whether by phone, email, fax, or in person. What was their seemingly grave error, or pièce de résistance as they refer to it, in getting expelled? They created the first ever batch of marijuana-infused coffee and distributed it throughout the campus, including each teaching department’s lounge, without directly telling anyone. It is rumored that a Finance professor almost committed suicide due to the event. Nonetheless, this isn’t pertinent to the story so we’ll move on.
Fabian, sorry: Rhondo/Rhonda, eventually moved to Portland to chase coffee-related escapades as Andres moved to Colombia short thereafter to chase the same dragon. As they departed to their respective locations and future occurrences, both men (Fabian was still Fabian in this period) hugged each other with a warmth only experienced in battle fields when one is in the frontlines aware of all sensations and noises present. They then separated and went their own ways.
Back to Andres:
Still sipping his tinto on the front porch, both watching the apex of the sunrise and contemplating how he thought his activities of the day will go. There was one activity in particular that his mind targeted on and that was his meeting with Toku Hashi, egg-extraordinaire.
Not only was this a successful coffee farm, but a successful egg enterprise as well. Rumors consistently circulated through the rustic streets of Colombia about the wonders and supposed magical quality of the eggs originating in Andres’ farm. It was a palpable feeling of clarity and magic that would shift one’s level of perception to something more familiar, after eating one of the eggs from his farm. Andres was fully aware of the phenomenon, yet always cautioned in matters of pride because he honestly had no clue why his eggs were the way they were. Which could be one of the reasons why Andres needed a professional’s opinion.
Toku Hashi knew eggs. How so? Contrary to supposed perception of him, Toku never ate an egg. His parents were total totalitarians on eggs and everything eggs stood for. They were to never be eaten, bought, or even thought of in Toku’s childhood, adolescence, and even adulthood. Yes, Toku was still influenced by his parents at the ripe age of 37 years on Mother Earth, yet kept his career hidden from them. One could assume and strongly correlate that parental influences was the main reason for Toku’s avoidance of eating eggs, yet paradoxically having his career revolve around eggs. Chicken eggs that is.
Toku was 1 of 3 people in the World able to tell if an egg carried a male or female zygote just based off looking at the shell. Indeed, Toku Hashi had the eye. This was no feat of magic or shamanism as some might be excited to assume, or maybe, on second reflection… maybe it was some sort of magic because even as an omniscient narrator I can’t even guess. But! What I do know is that the other two people in the world who knew this skill was his master in Japan who taught him the art for 3 years up in the alcoves of Mount Edo. And the other guy was a fraud who posed as a self-proclaimed egg extraordinaire in Arkansas with a shitty WordPress website. Nevertheless! Today was the fateful day of Andres and Toku Hashi’s meeting.
As Andres performed his civic duty of finishing the lukewarm sips at the bottom of his off-white porcelain mug, a black limousine revealed itself to Andres’ eyes, waiting at the purple wrought-ironed gate 21 meters away. Andres, placed his mug on a nearby table and ambled down the wooden stairs directing his energy toward a dark blue bike resting against the squalor house. He stopped in his pace, thought about riding it, and concluded that it would look better if one of the farm workers would open the gate. He whistled a familiar whistle and a disgruntled, yet simple man: Hugo, stumbled out of his room.
“Si señor! Mi commandante! Que puedo--”
“The gate,” as Andres half-embarrassingly pointed at the gate, fully aware that he himself could open the gate just as easily, yet asking another man equally distant from the gate to go open it.
“Si señor!” Hugo blindly parroted as he walked past the bike and ran to the gate. The black limousine, covered with dirt collected from the journey to the farm, meandered its way through the gate and followed the path where Andres was standing. He was sporting a black athletic cap, a semi-casual button down that could be used for farming if one wore it correctly, clean blue jeans, and black sneakers marked with red dust. The out-of-place limousine stopped in front of Andres with a few moments of apprehension, when Toku Hashi opened the door and stepped out.
“Andres?
“Si…Toka?”
“No. Toku.”
“Ah, my apologies Mr. Hashi.”
“Quite alright. It happens more often than one might estimate in their mind’s calculations.”
“Yup, sure. I’m sure your flight was fine.”
“Yes.”
“And the driver. Was he okay?”
“The driver was admirable.”
“Beautiful. Well business is of the essence and why we’re here so let us--”
“Is business all of the essence of your life Mr. Andres…?”
“Just Andres is fine for now, and yes. Is not life so as well?”
“I like to imagine Life being more than just business-essence. What a bleak and heavy view of the world to carry around. Especially for a farmer!
“You must have your virtue confused Mr. Hashi. What can you do when you have the most successful coffee and egg venture in the Southern Hemisphere? Wouldn’t your view of the world adapt after a while?”
“Yes, understandable and admirable Mr. Andres…”
“Still Mr. Andres to you.”
“Yes, fine, well and all Mr. Andres, but what about the smaller moments in life? What about this very conversation we are carrying with winged aloofness?”
“What about it?”
“Well, this is one of those small moments of Life that I’m emphasizing for the sake of this argument and your well-being Mr. Andres. This small conversation carries the seed of your present-future transformation and yet! and yet! all you are focused and adamant on is getting on with “business.”
“I see your gripe and point Mr. Hashi, but who are you to lecture me in this field? Are you some sort of Philosophy professor I should know of?
“I am no one but a messenger, which does not matter too much, only the message. Now I have done my duty as a human being, let us move on to the business-essence you speak of!”
“Gladly, follow me Mr. Hashi.”
Andres started towards the small brown hut. The chickens were still silent and could not be heard from the outside. The sun still beamed the hut and its surrounding area as if it was the only thing it was concentrated upon in that moment. As they ambled to the entrance, Toku asked, “Is this the only place on the farm where the chickens live?”
“Yes.”
“How? Aren’t you well-known for your eggs?”
“Yes, and your point?”
“Well….Shouldn’t you have more chickens so you can distribute to more places?”
“Of course, one would correctly guess that if one was thinking logically, but this is ALL an irrational game Mr. Hashi. I thought a man of your caliber would know and live this aphorism at your age?”
“Your compliment escapes me Mr. Andres. How is this all possible?”
“If one has a quality product and big demand for it, having few of said product both gives the illusion it is widely bought and the catalyzes the phenomenon in which people love what they can’t easily acquire.”
“’People love what they can’t easily acquire.’ Quite the philosophy Mr. Andres. It seems you have become the lecturer now! I’ll have to ponder the concept in my free time.”
“It’s not something to ponder. It is an immediate understanding…”
A couple moments of silence passed between the two and the chickens were still not heard.
“So that explains why you have called me today. I am a rare man to contract for such a job of distinguishing male and female eggs based off the look of the shell, while paying me an exorbitant amount of money. You are quite the player.”
“I get what I want Mr. Hashi. Whenever I desire, it is so.”
“I bet, I bet…. Now! Let us take a look inside,” Toku said as he reached for the brown hut’s small silver knob. Andres grabbed his wrist with purpose, “Hold on Mr. Hashi. I’ve been itching, just itching to ask you how your flight was! Was it everything you expected and more?”
“Yes, all great…we went over this already Mr.---”
Andres still holding onto Toku’s wrist, “And Mr. Hashi my driver picked you up well and good, right? Was he well-behaved?”
“Mr. Andres. Yes. This has already been covered. Please take your hand off my wrist.”
With a wry smile, Andres removed his hand from Toku’s limb.
“As you wish Toku. Let us step in now. Business is of the essence….”
The Serendipitous Textbook
"Luck is that which you can observe in your life when you are aware," exclaimed Lucy to her English professor and classmates. The professor retorted "Please elaborate on this awareness-luck connection." "Sure," Lucy said as a slight smile curved her lips upward, "Opportunities are all around us meaning luck is everywhere as well, what usually gets in the way is our current state of awareness. We can interpret luck as a fluid dynamic that integrates our life or we can interpret our lives as unlucky moment-to-moment interactions where luck rarely glimmers. Again, it depends on your current state of awareness." "Quite the theory," replied the professor in an intrigued manner. At that moment, a textbook fell from the professor's mahogany desk and onto his freshly broken pinky toe resulting in a piercing yelp. The scream lasted a few seconds and suddenly the professor changed his demeanor. His eyes widened and felt his facial muscles give birth to a big smile that confused everyone in the room, except Lucy who shared the same smile.