One of our boxes of raisin bran cereal got disarrayed, so that it no longer easily functioned as a box of cereal, but rather turned into a kind of cornucopia of bran emanating from a torn box.
My wife took the ample remaining bran, and pulled it from the box. She also installed a 1/3 cup measure into the bran, so that new bowls could be "poured" by scooping bran with a cup measure.
I like the way that 1 cup of cereal is measured and assembled in this way. Cup measure load after cup measure load heaves from the mass of cereal, into the solid white bowlness of the bowl.
In this way, a bowl of cereal becomes a formula--a method of calculation of the components of a bowl. It acquires a deducible quality--a recipe for cereal. But no matter how much one knows about the cereal, about the milk, and about the bowl, no matter how much one understands taste buds, periodic nourishment, and brain synapses, nothing in those understandings prepares one for the simple taste of milk, raisin bran and the tang of spoon. I feel as though I am always hunting that elusive thing that merely defining the chemical formulation of raisin bran cereal cannot define. I get encouraged by the idea of an interaction both mundane and sacred. I also enjoy a good bowl of raisin bran, non-fat milk, please, in ample portions.