Day Two - Creation

1.16.16


So I’ve taken myself on this traveling expedition down to warmer parts of the world (like that Florida-Georgia Line) and given myself an assignment that is, at the present moment, only as irritating as that one piece of sand stuck between your toes after you have put your socks and sneakers back on your feet.  I love this project in concept.  It’s romantic and expressive and reminds me of my college writing professor traveling around the Midwest and entertaining me with her artful, sassy verbiage on bries, cheddars, and bleus. 

In the reality of Saturday night it’s this thing that I’ve now promised myself and others that I will do and now don’t want to for lack of musings and inspiration, and possibly (likely) fear of jumping back into an art that has been dormant to my hands and mind for years now.  It has been quite simple this evening to find anything else to do.  I’ve watched two episodes of True Blood, showered, turned on the radio, made s’mores over the heat of the stove, poked around on the Facebook and Instagram, and cleaned the counters.  Anything to resist writing something that may or may not be poignant, inspiring, or dull. 

As I sit here wondering about what will emerge from my typing fingers, I think that this feels quite similar to the notion of creating what is next in my life.  Here I am in this beautiful, open space, this pulsing abyss, ready and wanting, calling to be leapt into and discovered and molded and created and I am resisting and avoiding every opportunity to really dive into and concoct something new—The Next Thing.

I was on a call today playing with and discussing the idea of creation and completion—how they dance with each other, a waltz in the world that shines with the drive of fulfillment and glimmers with the energies of success and failure.  I drifted off into my own considerations about what I am creating next.  I admit freely that I am open to many options and that I am reveling in the notion that I could go anywhere, having no attachments or limitations.  And yet there is this slow, drawing concern about that jump: to be careful and choose what is the exact right choice – to not error in my ways and not be precarious in my leaping into the unknown.  It makes me question if this adventure I have set myself on is simply a diversion tactic of my own doing, designed to keep me at bay for as long as possible, to keep me writing the preface to the next journey, away from the edge and safe at the shore. 

And I wonder what must it have been like, in the beginning, when there were only the word and darkness – what must it have been like to create the universe we are swimming in.  Though I admit there were vantage points from that view point, namely knowing how it will all turn out and what was the perfect location for that one tree and the perfect depth of this sea and the perfect distance from the sun and the perfect construction of gravity that would throw and pull the moon just so.  But still, I wonder what those moments held, just before that creation began, those moments in the abyss, that moment just before light cast its radiant beams into the darkness and it began.  I wonder if there was any consideration of the perfection that was about to unfold. 

And in that precise moment of wondering, I am struck by that peace of grace – that however it is, and however it will be, will be perfect.  And though I do not have that same vantage point of knowing how it will all turn out (how dull that would be!), I do know that all my actions and musings and leaps are all a part of this perfect creation we are all dancing in and however it will be will be perfect, and I can trust that and go on with my creating, dancing, discovering, wondering, fulfilling, and completing and creating again. 

Day One - Completion

1.15.16

On April 20^th, 2011 I walked into the Philadelphia office of Landmark Worldwide with a bagel, a thrill, and an adventurous spirit, ready to take on the world, all that was possible, and play an integral part in the fulfillment of what is really possible for us as human beings. 

I remember being an electrified bundle of nerves and excitement and not having any idea what actually lay ahead of me or how I was going to accomplish any of it.  I remember the beginning, of manuals and manuals and more manuals, and feeling like I was the most stupid person on the planet because somehow I forgot how to do addition or anything I had previously been trained in.  I remember crying in Katie’s office because I had no idea what the DFC was and I was responsible for doing it everyday.  I remember feeling like a deer in headlights when I got on the phone with a customer the first time.  And I remember the elation in getting off the phone and having made a difference in the life of a human being that I would likely never see or speak with again. 

The last 1700 days of my life have been the most extraordinary, transformative, moving era of all of the time I have spent in this here world.  I have discovered the gift of making a difference, the thrill of standing—deeply, powerfully, full of love and compassion—for the brilliance of the life of others.  I have been present to the grace and wonder of freedom, power, and the joyous dance of being alive and being a person who contributes that kind of greatness to another human being.  I have discovered that there is no limit to who I am and what is possible for my life and for the lives of others.  I have discovered the joy and thrill of causing others to get the difference their leadership makes and reveling in their own delight and wonder at their ability to make things happen that weren’t going to happen anyhow.  I have been touched, moved, and inspired to work with a group of exceptional human beings who go to work not to get through something, but to make something miraculous happen. 

For those that have not known and experienced it, when I tell you that being a Staff Member for Landmark is one of the deepest, most poignant, most thrilling and extraordinary experiences any human being could have, you may question my bold declaration.  I don’t know how to answer that matter of uncertainty, only to say that these last near five years have brought me through a multitude of transformations, only to come out discovering myself newly each and every time, and discovering along with that the beauty and grace of the power and magnificence of humanity and the gift we are to each other. 

Thursday, December 31^st was my last day fulfilling on the joyous, demanding opportunity of being a Staff Member.  (Though, we may also add that it may not be the final last day…)  This was, from a view, the most terrifying, adventurous, daring of choices I have made in a long time – possibly ever.   Completing this piece of my life has been the oddest and wondrous of experiences.  It has been bittersweet and heart-aching, and delightful and breathtaking all in the same moment.  I am clear there is something out in the world, in my own being, that awaits discovery and to be meticulously wrestled with.  That something lies in wait to be captured, exposed, and wondered at—something new but also known, there to take on and master.

So, for whatever will be next, I know and promise it will be taken on with passion and spirit; that it will be approached with the grace and wisdom of someone who has been thoroughly trained to make a most powerful and impactful difference.

And to the body of 400 plus human beings gracing the world with your white nametags and bold aliveness, I promise you will be proud of me.

Musical Interlude

I have a crush on Hunter Hayes.  He has this song, "Storm Warning"--it's that song that I always want to hear on the radio.  (You know you have a can't-wait-to-hear-it song.  You know you do.)

So, anyway, I looked him up on the interwebs and discovered that this kid has an obscene amount of talent.  The kind of talent that makes you a bit jealous and kind of want to be him because he can play every instrument in his band and looks damn good playing all of them. 

(As a side note, I am clear that my friends will make fun of me for oogling after this 21 year old kid.  Fine.  I love fun-making.)

Anyways, back to this kid with buckets of talent.  Have you ever had one of those fantasy thoughts where you could do super-cool things like play every instrument in your band?  No?  Well I have.  Hunter Hayes makes me want to take piano lessons and guitar lessons and banjo lessons and drum lessons and saxophone lessons and voice lessons and then be overly talented at all of them.   Granted, he came out of the womb playing the piano and writing lyrics, so I think he has a bit of a head start on me and my talent-filled fantasy.

*Sigh* 

Perhaps the best way to resolve this is to just do what I do best and live vicariously through this kid's awesome music skills while I wait in anticipation to hear my new favorite song on the radio. 

Humanity to Love

I love people.  I am so moved and humbled and inspired by people.

I am not so inspired by them while sitting in traffic, or looking for the whole-milk greek yogurt in a store committed to its customers buying fat free products, but that will be left for another time.

I am so rocked by people.  And what moves me is not only when someone creates something extraordinary--like a leadership program in a prison system, or a dental care service for homeless children--but that in accomplishing these amazing feats, we are showing the rest of the world that the extraordinary is possible.  Like Roger Bannister popping the lid off of the once inconceivable four-minute mile, we are ripping the lid off of humanity, of what is possible in being human.  Not just some human beings with talents more special than others, but for each and every human being on the planet.

I am moved by people who's actions are a calling to others--that those dreams you have left on the shelf in the back of your mind--resigned that they will ever come to be in all their imagined glory--they are possible.  Not only are they possible, but you are the one who can and will fulfill on them.  There is nothing separating Roger Bannister from you--or me for that matter.  There is no superhero power that Martin Luther King, Jr, or Nelson Mandela, or Mahtma Ghandi have that you do not.

I love people that are a demonstration of this--that anything is possible and they are going to use their lives as an example.

Waiting for Spring

First, I would like to apologize for the hiatus I didn't tell anyone I was taking.  I've been busy being lazy and melting into the TV.  I've also been having some grievances with winter.  While my cute skirts and sandals are packed away in the recesses of my attic, I've been piling on layer after layer to maintain some warmth, ready for the snow to stop falling.
And when it's not  snowing incessantly, everything is the color of cold steel.  Even the open blue sky has a desperate gray chill to it. And I am nearly done hibernating.  I am tired of waking up on Sunday to hang out in my living room with a blanket around my shoulders and woolly socks covering my toes.  Or going out just to go back inside.

However, for all my complaining towards this seemingly unfriendly season, there is, I've found, a calm beauty in the solitude of winter.  The hibernation of all that is green leaves room for the quiet stillness of a soft (if unending) snowfall.  And there is something steadfast and certain about a chilled afternoon--the ever-present, pervasive, and steady greyness that wraps the trees and covers the lakes and rivers in a blanket of rest.
 I'm not saying I'm all for it, just that, even in the midst of cold wet slush, there is always something beautiful.

Heaven Can be Devilish

"Mastering the Art of French Cooking" (First Edition) by Julia Child (and Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholld).

This is a beautiful cookbook.  I watched "Julie and Julia" with my parents the day after Christmas and fell in love with french cooking via Hollywood and a beautiful blogger.  Filled with inspiration, I recently made the Chocolate and Almond Cake on page 677.  Oh my.  I have never made a cake from scratch and previously looked down upon chocolate cake as they came out dry more often than not.  But this was not the case.  After a morning excursion to Shop Rite and the local liquor store to buy some quality rum with the help of a lovely gentleman, I returned home to participate in my own personal bake-off.  I preheated, whipped, beat, folded, sifted, and folded some more until I had concocted the most delicious chocolate cake batter this side of the Atlantic.  Of course I licked the extra batter from the spatula and emptied mixing bowl like a jumpy seven-year-old with a delighted grin on my face.  And after impatiently waiting for my lovely baked delight to cool for at least an hour after it came happily out of the oven, I iced it with the best damn chocolate icing ever. 

Then, I ate some.

 Oh.

 Heavenly.

What I did not consider when making this divinely scrumptious dessert was that it was meant to be shared, and while I do have a lovely housemate that gladly eats whatever I cook, there is a limit to his intake on heart-stopping cakes.  I do not have this limiting gene and thus have now eaten the majority of my irresistible creation.  This is not good.  I am now on the prowl for a gym membership.

New Year's Resolution:  Bake what you will, but be sure you have someone (or some five) to share it with.

Pasta con Nussa

As requested, here is the "recipe" for Christmas Pastas.  Please note that, because I have only seen this made one time, there could be errors in my recollection and explanation:

What You Need

Equipment:

Two large pots

Blender

Food processor or grinding attachment for your mixer

Garlic Press (or a good mincing hand)

A large mixing bowl

Spatula

Lasagna dish

Ingredients:

1 box of lasagna noodles

1 large container of shredded Parmesan

A bulb or two of garlic.  Or three.

1 loaf of white sandwich bread

Walnuts (at least a bag, probably more.  I am unclear on the quantity.  Eventually you will need something like 4 cups of ground walnuts.)

Salt and Pepper

What You Do

In a rather large pot, boil lasagna noodles.  In another pot of slightly smaller size, fill it about three quarters of the way with water and simmer.  In either a food processor or a fancy nut crushing attachment to your blender, finely grind walnuts so that your processed nuts are the consistency of a damp crumbly pate.  Open a bag of sliced white sandwich bread.  Grab a handful and put it in the pot of simmering water.  (Yes, really.  Do this.  Do not ask questions.)  When your bread is mush, scoop it out with a slotted spoon and plop it in a blender with your mushy ground nuts.  Blend with minced garlic.  Your blender should produce a smooth pale, grayish brown sauce that is not runny but not too thick.  (I realize that this is very vague.  I am sorry.)  Pour this saucy mixture into a large mixing bowl.  Add Parmesan, salt and pepper.  Taste it.  Smile or question what you have made.  If there is some ingredient that you need more of, put in more.  This might require you to put the sauce back in the blender.  That is fine.  If it is to your liking, rejoice.  Grab your cooked noodles (you may want to LIGHTLY oil these while they are awaiting their embrace with the sauce as they tend to stick and you do not want this.  Or leave them sitting in cold water, so they are not still cooking and wipe off the excess water from each noodle when you use them).  In a lasagna dish (I may have made this term up.  I don't really care.  Grab a dish you would bake lasagna in.  It should be about 13" long, 9" or so wide, and about 3" high.)  put a generous layer of sauce in the bottom.  Place down a layer of noodles.  Then some sauce.  Then some Parmesan. Then noodles.  And sauce and Parmesan and noodles and sauce and Parmesan.  You can make a little song while you layer.  When you are done layering (when you run out of noodles), sauce up the top and sprinkle with more Parmesan.  Cover and put it in your fridge.  It is meant to be served cold. 

In an hour or two, or twenty minutes if you throw patience to the wind, take out your Pasta con Nussa, sigh with delight, cut in, and enjoy.