It is early morning, my house is beautifully quiet as everyone sleeps. I put water on the stove, return to my blogging keyboard and wait for the pot to whistle.
Ah, there it is! — what a beautiful whistle. I prepare my sacred brew and now my blogging proceeds much more inspired.
While I sip my coffee and compose my post, my house remains quiet except for a rare car rolling down our gravel road, an occasional train in the distance or one of my dogs snorting during a dream. But sometimes I think I hear that coffee pot whistling again. But it only takes about a half of a second for my brain to tell me that of course it isn’t — I emptied the water, turned off the stove and put the pot on a cold burner. If there was a noise, it was not the coffee pot. Nonetheless, I have that hallucination a few times each morning. My illusion is primed by sitting in wonderful expectation each morning for the sign that my brew is ready. With that priming, my mind is always ready to hear the wonderful whistle that does not exist.
I have had several camping trips where, throughout the night, I vigilantly hallucinated bears prowling around my tent. During many a morning jog, I see shadows of menacing people ducking around the back of houses. And many days as a believer, I have heard the expected soft voice of God.
Even nowadays, when I expect my daily encounters with people to be pregnant with Yuan, my meetings are often more interesting. If I imagine that the landscape breaths me, I smile more often. When are deluded expectations harmful?