That’s So Vanilla: Recovering Wonder in a Culture of Discontent

Contentment is a virtue often professed but seldom practiced. In a world driven by an insatiable appetite for novelty, our yearning for contentment seems paradoxical. As a botanist, I find an answer to this paradox in the satisfaction that comes from the study and understanding of plants. Contentment comes as I explore, revisit, and remember the alchemy of air into substance, the interwoven existence of plants and pollinators, and the adaptation of form to function. My fascination extends beyond mere knowledge; it is a deep appreciation for the mysteries that plants hold. As an instructor, I strive to impart this sense of wonder to my students, encouraging them to live in gratitude for the goodness of plants.

When I first read Mary Oliver's simple yet profound instructions for living a life—"Pay attention, be astonished, tell about it,” it was as if a gong was struck in my gut. Her words so simply and fully captured something I hadn’t articulated to myself but knew was good and true. They underscore the importance of mindfulness, gratitude and relationship. This flies directly in the face of a culture of distraction driving our pursuit of novelty and causing us to overlook the extraordinary goodness of creation.

A compelling example I often share to provoke reflection on contentment and goodness is the origin of vanilla. Vanilla, in many ways, has become synonymous with plainness. However, a bite of plain yogurt when expecting vanilla quickly reveals the error in this assumption. Consider what you know about vanilla – for most, it is merely a flavor. For some cooks, it is a brown liquid poured from a bottle. For a smaller subset, it is a dried "bean." Very few realize that vanilla is actually an extract from the fruit of a tropical orchid. How could it be possible that “vanilla” would become synonymous with plain, ordinary, basic? Vanilla, once a magical and rare commodity, has become mundane through its ubiquity. We have purchased it and thus believe it is our just due. We crave what we do not have, and once we possess it, it fades into the ordinary. Abundant goodness is apparently not goodness at all.

This highlights a fundamental choice we have in how we live our lives. On one path attention leads to appreciation, understanding, contentment, and gratitude which is the doorway to devotion and right worship of God. Down the path of indifference, we find a superficial yearning after novelty, misplaced affections, and discontent which is the doorway to idolatry of all sorts.

We ignore so many opportunities to follow the path to gratitude. The daily experience of mealtimes is a prime example. Enjoying food transcends the mere pleasure of taste and smell. True enjoyment stems from an appreciation of the skill involved in its preparation, the company with which it is shared, an understanding of how it nourishes our bodies, and, for me, an understanding of its origins. Food is a manifold gift. Wendell Berry eloquently elaborates on this theme: "To live, we must daily break the body and shed the blood of Creation. When we do this knowingly, lovingly, skillfully, reverently, it is a sacrament. When we do it ignorantly, greedily, clumsily, destructively, it is a desecration. In such desecration, we condemn ourselves to spiritual and moral loneliness, and others to want." Vanilla, a gift from God, is a prime example. Its journey from a tropical orchid to our kitchens is nothing short of miraculous. Yet, in our quest for the next new thing, we fail to recognize and appreciate its goodness.

Berry's words further remind us that our relationship with food—and by extension, with all of creation—can either be sacramental or “desecrative.” When we approach food with reverence and gratitude, we partake in a sacred act. Conversely, when we consume mindlessly and greedily, we contribute to a cycle of destruction and discontent.

The heart of discontent lies in this perpetual craving for more. We are conditioned by an advertisement-saturated world to believe that happiness and fulfillment are just one more purchase, one more experience away. We pursue these little idols in search of meaning. This mindset not only robs us of contentment but also blinds us to the beauty and goodness that already surround us. It impoverishes our prayers of thanksgiving leaving them short, flat, and trite.

To cultivate contentment, we must learn to actually see the world, for appreciation comes with understanding. We must pay attention to the small wonders, be astonished by their beauty, and share our appreciation with others. This shift in perspective can transform the mundane into the magical, the ordinary into the extraordinary – it is the center of a meaning-filled life. To receive and then to give. To understand our connectedness and dependency. We cannot live in right relationship with one another or with God without this understanding.

The problem of human contentment is intricately tied to our failure to appreciate the good gifts we have been given, which is directly tied to our misunderstanding and misapprehension of the creation. Our cultural dismissal of vanilla as “plain” is a testament to this truth. By approaching life with mindfulness and gratitude, we can break free from the cycle of discontent and learn to cherish the manifold gifts that surround us.