So, about these guinea pigs. Their names are Hazel and Pipkin and they’re 3ish years old, they look like big hairy loaves. They don’t move very much, which I understand is pretty usual for guinea pigs. When my son cleans their cage, he puts them outside in a makeshift fence (with a top so nothing can snatch them) and they lay right down and eat whatever grass is under them. They talk to each other, and to us, in language that sounds like an 80’s video game. I read that they’re such social creatures that you need to have 2, otherwise they die of loneliness, and I don’t care at all whether that’s scientifically true or not, it’s wonderful.

They’re so cute it makes me want to cry.

Anyway, I often feed them. I give them romaine lettuce, baby carrots and Timothy hay. After washing the veggies, as I walk towards them, I call/sing, “Gir-rulls…gir-rulls…” and they lose their minds, beeping and squeaking and chewing on the cage door as an answer.

I open the door and try to pet them while they run (sort of?) around the cage, then I give them a carrot each, which they grab, then drop and wait for the next thing. Then I drop the lettuce, and they immediately move on to that, then come back, waiting for the next thing. That’s when I put the hay into their bowls and they dive into that. For a bite or 2, then wait for the next thing. There is no next thing, so they go back to what they have. Hazel likes the lettuce most, Pipkin is a carrot girl. They always forget these facts in greedy anticipation of what’s next. They don’t want what they have, they want what’s next.

And that’s too often like us, right? We have all we need, yet there’s always something new that we need, a new model, a new solution for a problem we had no idea we had. It’s hard to be here, now. We love our spouses, but there’s this new exotic co-worker… This job is what I worked for, but that one might be better. We can’t even tell, because we’ve stopped looking at this blessing some time ago, longing for the grass on the other side.

I heard grass has an interesting property that makes it appear greener from a distance. So, the grass actually MIGHT BE greener on the other side. But as we already know, once we get there, it’s just grass, and the grass we left now looks greener. As Yoda profoundly remarked about Luke Skywalker, “All his life has he looked away…to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing.” And of course, while he was saying it, Luke was daydreaming!

Arthur Schopenhauer writes, “A man is never happy, but spends his whole life in striving after something that he thinks will make him so; he seldom attains his goal, and when he does, it is only to be disappointed; he is mostly shipwrecked in the end, and comes into harbour with mast and rigging gone. And then, it is all one whether he is happy or miserable; for his life was never anything more than a present moment always vanishing; and now it is over.”

These piggies are never happy, but spend their whole lives striving after something they think will make them so. Where are we? Are our minds on where we are, on what we are doing? Hmm? Are we truly with the people around us, sitting at the dinner table? I’ve seen many people leave relationships, careers, schools, churches, faith because another one was shiny and green, only to find it not so perfect, after all.

In Genesis 28:16 (you know we’d end up here, right?), Jacob wakes up and says, “Surely the Lord was in this place and I was unaware.” He missed the beauty of the gift he’d been given, the gift of the present moment. Let’s not do that, ok?