Last week, I had to deliver my daughter to the bus station in Portland, Maine early in the morning. After helping her carry her stuff into the line to board the bus, I got back into my vehicle and took a moment to think about the immediate future. Since I live over an hour from Portland, any visit to the biggest city in Maine usually involves running a few errands— like visits to Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s (there’s only one of each in all of Maine). But, those stores open at 8:00am, which I would normally think of as plenty early, but last Thursday, as I sat in my truck in the bus station parking lot, 8:00am had not yet arrived. I considered my options.

After a quick online investigation of possible coffee spots, etc, I found myself tempted by the promise of a “life-altering experience.” This promise involved a place called “The Holy Donut” and a particular kind of maple donut that was required if I ever wanted to declare myself as having lived a full life. With the age of sixty not so far into the future, I figured I better take advantage of the lull before groceries and check out that donut. I mean, the cafe has “holy” in the title. How could I possibly not want to have a life-changing experience on an altogether normal Thursday in the middle of summer?

I purchased the supposedly remarkable donut, along with a decidedly unremarkable cup of coffee, and set myself up at the small counter by the window. I took the precious donut from its bag and broke it apart into a few pieces, all the while preparing my soul for a miraculous experience.

It was certainly a fine donut. And, I was all the more impressed knowing that the donut was made from fine Maine potatoes. As an aside, I must say that I continue to marvel at the amazing things that the humble potato—especially the humble Maine potato— can accomplish. But, I can honestly say that I did not have anything even close to a life-altering experience. And, I don’t think that the donut, as delicious as it was, fulfilled my quest to live a full life.

It was a good donut and I’m glad that I tried it, although I’m not sure it was worth the calories that I’m still endeavoring to work off.

As I sat at that counter, looking out at a cloudy morning on Portland’s waterfront, enjoying the maple donut made out of potato, I wondered about life-altering experiences. What happens to how we understand such experiences when so many people are cutting ties to an entire arena that is significantly connected to transformational experiences? I realize that religious practice is just one of many ways to have one’s life and one’s perspective altered, but it is, and has been, a meaningful avenue for many to feel something that can be deemed truly life-changing. As the opportunities that religious communities offer become less and less available, will the concept of the transformational experience be diminished? Will the maple potato donut have to be enough?