So I'm sitting across from a bored-looking Shingon priest—he is literally resting his chin on his hand—trying to think of something to talk about, and also trying to gather the courage to reach out and take one of the red bean paste swiss rolls on the tray that's to be shared by all but has been placed in front of him as a mark of respect.

I mean obviously I don't need this piece of cake to live or even to be healthy. It's pure desire, man, kleśā, 煩悩. But also he must see this struggle within me. Come to think of it, he must see it whenever he has to sit down with a family somewhere. He's probably thinking, Christ, just eat the cake already, Enlightened One. Well, he might not be thinking "Christ."

But then of course I'd just crave the next piece, and so on.

That's when I realize that I'm in a parable.