enroute365

The nature of life

Does life unfold for those who are open to embrace what it has to offer? Or should it be up to us take life "by the horns" and steer it in the direction of our dreams?

Is life a stream that takes us to our destinations as it will ... or is it the clay that we shape as we will?

I confess that I don't have the answer, although I suspect it lies somewhere between these two extremes. I just have to find where exactly that is for my own journey. These are the answers I still await as I continue to observe a period of stillness and listening.

I do agree with a recent post at A Day to Share with Tammy, that in many ways I create my life each day, even in the simplest efforts, as she describes:

During the summer months, when flowers are plentiful in my garden, I love to fill the house with these heavenly tokens. I arrange bouquets for my living room, bedroom, dining room, kitchen, and my desk. I know I am arranging them for me. With these flowers I am in good company ...

I may have stress and some complications, but in my heart I know that I can and will smile to myself knowing that I am in charge ... I create the roads that I will follow ...

Why be miserable when you can be happy? I looked at the flower on the table again. I saw a gift the flower was giving me.

But, when it comes to issues of personal achievement, I have on occasion been better served by letting my ambition take the day off! Some days God, fate or coincidence seemingly has other plans. And, from time-to-time, these plans have opened doors I could not have foreseen.

What about you? Do you accept life as it comes, mold it to suit, or adopt a different approach. Let me know! I'm still listening.

What are you worth?

"How much do you figure he's worth?" my lunch partner asks as she nods at a third party just feet away. Her voice is hushed and the question pours forth in tones of intrigue and conspiracy. I struggle to find a civil response. My companion has begun my least favorite game, "Let's Judge Somebody." I find this particular version especially appalling, that of reducing a human life down to dollar signs.

"I don't know," I finally answer."To his family I'm sure he's priceless. But down at the morgue ... well, I guess I don't know what a body goes for these days."

I know this is not what my friend means. I understand that she is looking at the well-dressed man with a certain disdain and she's seeking my cooperation. Maybe her attitude is bred of jealously. Maybe she feels inferior somehow. I'd hate to think that she assigns value to others based on their bank accounts. Then again, she wouldn't be the first to do so. Perhaps we all are guilty of this from time to time.

Just for the record, I'm worth a little under $5,000. I can say that now that I've run across the Cadaver Calculator, an online tool for those like me who are morbidly curious (or seeking to make a point)! The calculator does not factor in my immense potential or the sentimental value I place on my person. But what I like about it is this: it does not consider my net worth either. By not taking those extra assets into account, I get a needed dose of humility. One that keeps me mindful of the values I place on others.

I invite you to try it for yourself. What are you worth?

$4705.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

How many cooks in the kitchen?

Last night's fondue was almost a disaster. In tag-team cooking style, My husband and I were heating the gruyére and wine mixture on the stovetop when the cheese began to separate. As panic set in, Frank began to second-guess the directions. He'd heard Alton, his favorite TV food pro, say that the starch should be added at the beginning. I took a second look at the cookbook; our recipe called for corn starch as a later step. Another opinion was needed, so I moved to the computer and searched for collective solutions from the Web-savvy public. A page full of message board responses filled the Google results and I clicked each one-by-one.

“Here's a solution ... add more wine,” I called out. “Oh, here's another, extra lemon juice will help.”

Frank stirred in the liquids without seeing any improvement. “The burner's probably set too hot. Are you stirring in figure-eights? This man added flour. No luck? Go ahead and mix in the cornstarch and kirsh.” My questions and commands were strung together in rapid succession as I took in every homespun fix ever published on the Web and repeated it aloud. But still Frank was left stirring a sloppy mess.

Knowing his wrists must be tired, I switched places with my spouse. As I took over at the stove I noticed that Frank had replaced the wooden spoon with a whisk, and seeing that the wires of the whisk only served to capture cheese solids inside, I resumed with the spoon. I sensed some improvement. Encouraged by this small success I questioned the temperature setting; the burner barely seemed hot enough. In a series of slow eighth-inch progressions I bumped up the heat. Within seconds I noticed the change we'd be seeking and several minutes later, Frank and I were enjoying fondue.

I share this anecdote for a simple reason: in the past I always thought that success was best when fueled by collective experience, by community. But I'm finding that isn't always true. It doesn't take a village to make fondue. When problems arise, sometimes all one really needs is an attention to detail and the quiet confidence to go it alone.

What are some of your cooking scares? Were you able to pull-off a solution? How?

Best advice: love yourself

I try to not dispense advice. I’ve never been keen on receiving it so it seems rather hypocritical to dish it out. Especially when, as the words escape my mouth, I heard far too many “shoulds.”

You should be like this ... think like that ...do it another way.

Shoulding is a futile gesture. It certainly has never saved a life, changed a mind or touched a heart. The truths that we know most deeply are not dictated to us. They come from within, derived from our own experiences.

Having uttered these words, however, I look at a younger generation coming of age. I can’t help but reflect over my own 40-some years and wish I’d know then what I know today.

The most important lesson was in front of me all the while, but just now I’m beginning to understand the depth of the message and open my self to its advice.

It begins something like this: love yourself. How deceptively simple. Yet I must overcome a multitude of hurdles in order to heed this instruction.

"Love yourself in order to be the person you might become."

April snows

It’s April 11 and snowing. The gray sky is reflected in my disposition. I’m agitated. Moody.

In theory, I believe that I carry my own sunshine with me. And, I know I’m happiest when I let expectations fade and just accept what is. 

I’m not just discontent with the weather, however. I’m thinking of our mentally challenged nephew, Jimmy. He can rebuild an engine with his own two hands. But he needs help managing a checkbook. Jimmy called at 3 p.m. two days ago. Needed to speak with his uncle. I took a message and patiently explained that Frank works until six. Jim called again yesterday. At one.

I’m frustrated when I can’t get through to Jimmy. I understand that I have been given a mind that functions better. And I’m grateful. I also believe that, because of the abundance I’ve received, that I owe Jim patience and support.

I need to move past my thoughts of how the world ought to be. On how Jimmy ought to be.

The snow outside is making driving dangerous. The radio announcer has come on to say “take it slow.” I’ll take that advice for my internal journey as well. I know the going is slippery.