When the Peter Pan jar seems empty.
Something I’ve been doing since I was ten. Scraping the buttery dregs of the peanut butter jar with a table knife and licking the sparse remains off the knife. Laying claim to an empty jar of peanut butter, grabbing me a table knife, and with the hope of bringing conclusion to a once full jar. A final process seemingly transformational. Just the jar and me. It’s done. Over. I have followed through from the first to the very empty end. The whole process is meditational and helps me focus on life’s burdensome worries. Something like peanut butter jar yoga. Finally, it’s done. Over with. Scraped until the plastic almost comes off the interior walls of the jar. You could place the empty jar in a paper sack, drag me out on the back lawn, and a glassy-eyed semi-unconscious state washes over me. Completely oblivious of the surrounding environment. Stoned on the Peter Pan jar remains.