lunch on L’isle Sur la Sorgue
my own kitchen, a spiced-plum galette with strawberry ice cream
Yesterday, when I awoke and read that Gina De Palma had passed away after her long battle with ovarian cancer I felt a very strong sadness come over me. I had met her only once, when she did a rec class at ICE many years ago, back when I was still considering going to Pastry School. I had read about her battle occasionally over the years and had scoured her book. Sometimes I found myself wondering where she’d gone and how she was doing. I noticed her post in October about going into another major surgery. All through the day, as I wandered in New York City, for some reason I carried around thoughts of her and of her loss at the young age of 49. As I was gathering my thoughts to write this post, I couldn’t ignore how it further solidified my resolve.
Major childhood traumas can leave even the most innocent and whimsically-natured person with a boatload of life-long side affects – among them, chronic worrying, a separation from your true intended destiny and at the very least, a diversion away from the full exploration of your own God-given gifts, however humble and ordinary. I’ve found the past few years to be a time to work on leaving as much of that as I possibly can behind and embrace all that is whimsical, beautiful, and serendipitous out there, which is yours for the asking. My world was one where it had become safer to attach to a routine of time-consuming tasks, caretaking and responsibility-adoption far beyond the realm of my own personal well-being. This turned out to be a mistake and a blessing, for, over the past several years, I have been enrolled “in training” to hitchhike onto the lovely breezes of self-sowing freedom. Ok, so wtf is she talking about, you may ask?
I found a few years ago that I needed to clear my plate. It had gotten way too weighed down. Weighed down with the downright heavy and sad and mostly mundane. I had some very major choices I needed to make. I could spend my “after kids left the nest years” continuing as I had, wedded to around-the-house chores, and a multitude of time-consumers that held little if any joy for me or, I could begin to choose a more self-directed, self-feeding philosophy of life. And, lucky for me, I had continued to have a little bird flying around my head and nagging at me, trying to send me a message. I finally decided to listen.
I can’t underestimate the luck of being a person that on most days has a choice about what I want to do. I also can’t underestimate the luck of having a set of creative impulses that I had enough recall from long ago, to attach myself to and explore.
There are so very many meanings for these two metaphors – A Healthy Appetite and A Full Plate – that are appropriate in thinking about a New Year. First and foremost, I wish for a full plate of healthful food for every single person who is in need and especially for children.
But, what does having A Healthy Appetite and A Full Plate mean for me, one little person in the universe? I am fortunate enough to have food to put on the table for my family and friends every single day. That indeed is a blessing that I can’t ignore.
Today, these metaphors mean that, in spite of all the turmoil in the world and all the ways I can be distracted by minutia and torn from my own true roots, I need to focus on what means the most to me.
When it comes to my family, for me it means letting them find their own way rather than to over- involve and over-manage. They are, after all, grown adults. It means, not deterring myself for lack of any better agenda items to minding their business and not mine. And, it means to listen to that little voice in side of me that says every morning, “oooh, I’d like to create a ..…” in yesterday’s case, a puff pastry honey bun. It means, trekking to Eataly, Dean and Deluca or The Broadway Panhandler for the 1,000th time this year and again, if that’s what floats my boat. It means stopping to snap each and every picture that sends me a signal in the landscape (including sheep, pigs, horses and cows), to enjoy the glorious gathering of colors in a blossom, to tip my head upwards and admire the amazing beauty of the cloud formations each day and to write and let all the thoughts and emotions flow out the door instead of to stifle them as I had done for so very long as I traveled through the “you should be doing this, you should be doing that” phase. And, it means stepping onto airplanes and exploring all those places that I dream about constantly – and, as my yoga teacher reminded me last week “inhale, inhale”. And then, exhale, exhale. And, to be inspired by the others, near and far who speak to you, through their courage, vision, determination, focus and even, whimsy.
Life after your kids grow up can be a particularly tough challenge. One day you wake up and the house has an eery quiet and vacancy. They’re off doing their own thing in the world and you ask yourself, “what has happened?” I was lucky that when my son left for Georgetown I shortly thereafter had a little voice that willed me to walk into the door at ICE. I was lucky to have a friend to set up this blog for me. I was lucky to engage with my camera, which has given me so much joy. I am lucky that when an idea pops into my head to bake something, I can readily go and do that. And, I am lucky that I picked up my site line and looked out, way out. I found I could pick up the thread that held the great unleashing of my passions, however simple and common they may be. This is my Healthy Appetite. And, for 2016, I wish to have A Full Plate each and every day. As the powers that be have given me the ultimate gift, which is time, I want to keep each day with a full agenda, never letting the vacuum fill up with nothingness for lack of a better idea.
For, like Gina, who knows when your pastry kitchen will have to close down? Who knows when you will be “out of business”. It is sad that it may take the misfortune of another bright spirit to motivate you to do other things. But, God does indeed speak to us in mysterious ways. Perhaps, there is no time like the present, for me, at least, to listen.
I am a work in progress (image courtesy Charles Schulz)