Emily A. Benton

I have a hard time not buying myself a gift each time I’m out shopping for a gift for someone else. For this reason, I usually try to not go shopping for gifts, and rather just go shopping and let my radar zoom in on something unexpected, yet perfect for a specific person in my life – preferably, one who also feels compelled to give gifts to me on honored occasions, like taco night.

There’s a harmony to it, if you have a wallet.

That last statement may have come subconsciously from a couple gifts I’ve been enjoying since Christmas. For whatever reason, two gift-exchangers in my life thought either I really needed or would really enjoy some enlightenment into the inner workings of the human spirit and the mysteries of the universe. This is what happens when you tell people you take yoga classes. Or, what happens when you share relatively little of yourself with those in your immediate family.

The first gift came from someone who notoriously buys me gifts that I think she really wants for herself. This isn’t a complaint. She’s an interesting person. I can scatter her gifts around my home and my guests will think what my refrigerator told them is true: I’m a dirty little hippie at heart.

She once gave me a board, that when you applied water to it with a paintbrush, it would darken momentarily and then disappear a few seconds later. The idea was the opposite of Dumbledore’s pensieve; you release your thoughts, only for them to disappear. Poof! They’re gone. And then you meditate with a clean slate, I guess. But as with any kind of open canvas, my mind felt compelled to unfold a bunch of T&A and wiener, and got a real kick out of watching nipples dribble into a pool of river rocks. That, and my cat Gandalf thought this was his personal water fountain. I finally stuck it in the guest room. I think it complements the feng shui of electronics containers and peeling paint.

Anyway, the first gift: it’s a 2009 ECOlogical Calendar. I’ve read over the introduction a dozen times during conference call meetings, and I still don’t know what the hell it’s trying to tell me. The weekly charts of the earth and sky and seasons say nothing about whether or not this Leo will achieve prosperity after unveiling secrets, in bed. But I’m thankful for the huge amounts of useless knowledge it’s trying to feed me, as any poet would be. For instance, I’ve learned that porcupines eat bones, black bears hibernate in 2-3 feet wide spaces, and birds’ bodies maintain 100 degree temperatures while their feet are freezing. It’s the kind of thing you’d want to know if you were followed by a team of cameramen into the wild and needed filler commentary while digging for grub. But I’m still puzzled why my gift-giver thought I’d need this calendar. She actually ordered it for me last year, too, but it was backordered. When she called me excitedly one day to tell me my Christmas present was finally on its way, I had two ideas in mind: vibration or single malt? And upon receiving: Who knew solstice calendars were so popular?

My other gift is even more startling. I think it was decided upon in the checkout line. While the other two gift recipients who received the same type of gift as me got “cats” and “dogs,” I received the page-a-day “Zen” calendar. I guess I could take it as a compliment that my brain cannot be widdled by a picture of a fuzzy animal, but who are we kidding? My second language is meow, and I can order food in woof.

I’m usually horrible with page-a-day calendars. I make it through Jan. 6 and then the rest of the year goes by without a wink. But this calendar, I must say, is a DELITE to go through, and not just because I’m trying to imagine myself in a more peaceful place than my cubical, say under a waterfall with Daniel Day Lewis. Rather, these daily doses of Zen are absolutely hilarious to me. Much like the “congrats on the new job!” card I’ve kept on my desk – one that portrays a “Zen Master of the Obvious” monk stating “Today is the first day of the rest of your week” – each new Zen Calendar quotation or anectdote brings a new meaning to “no shit!?”

A sampling:

“The mind of the past is ungraspable; the mind of the future is ungraspable; the mind of the present is ungraspable” – Diamond Sutra

“What is your Original Nature, Snowman?” – Natsume Soseki

“The startling reality of things is my discovery every single day.” – Fernando Pessoa

OK, maybe I’m asking for a karmic slap, but even someone who wants to spend her life writing poetry finds a lot of this Zen crap ridiculous. But for giggle’s sake, I guess she’s glad someone thought of her when in the hustle and bussel of the gift-giving season. I’m just not sure what it says about me. And maybe that’s the point – losing the “me” in it.