God and the Wounded Creature Within

My reaction to my father's email concerned me. He talked about being in God's favor, about God longing for me, about great things coming to me and being willing to have faith and take a risk. My first thought, my knee-jerk reaction, was that I was about to lose everything. Talk about irrational. When I hear I am being blessed with everything, I hear I am about to lose it all.

I opened my palm and let Him hold my hand today. I felt Him kiss my cheeks. Then He said something I had to ask Him to repeat. He told me that he would like to get to know me in the good times, we had been through enough bad.

Here's the thing, I know when I listen to him things turn out for the best, but I don't feel like I have been listening to anything lately. I have felt a bit odd, a bit disconnected. Perhaps it is just a matter of getting to know him outside of the proverbial warzone, perhaps now is the time to get reacquainted on domestic soil.

It's sad that the One who saved me reminds me so much of that which I needed to be saved from that I would flinch at His name. I am realizing that there is a wounded creature that still lurks inside of me, just under the surface.

I am haunted, in my dreams, by a lingering desire to be saved and by the knowledge that no one ever comes. He does though, He always is waiting. In my poor, damaged mind He designed it that way; a manipulative tactic to thrust me into His arms because there is no one else to cling to. Cognitively, I know this is not true. I know that He does not operate that way. That creature though, she looks at Him with wide-eyed mistrust. How did this happen? I have fought this creature my whole life. Seeing Him and realizing who he is, then forgetting all over again. How could I forget? I want to feel badly, but I don’t feel much of anything save a twinge of sadness.

The creature inside of me heard Him say that He is back, not to save me, but to reintroduce himself to me outside of the shadowy world of my despair. She took a step toward Him, still shaking, but intrigued. Could it be true?

I take it back, I do feel something. It isn’t guilt though; it is deep, deep sadness and shock that I am only now seeing this pathetic creature for the first time. Now that I see her, I realize she has been there all along.

Funny, she came out of the shadows again tonight. Someone got too close to my heart. I reeled back with a vicious growl. I keep her well hidden, but I hear her, barring her teeth at the mere idea of someone getting close enough to hurt me. What happened to me that this thing could live inside of me?

I have spent my entire life running headfirst into the heart of anything that frightens me. I loathe the idea of anything having that kind of grip on me. It is only my great faith in myself that allows for my hopeful views of the future. For someone who dreams fearlessly of conquests and mountains to climb, it is funny to see the cynic beneath it all. I am good at dreaming about that which I can control. Hoping for that which I cannot is terrifying. I do believe that is the risk He is asking me to take now.

Things have been so frighteningly beautiful lately. Seeing the life I have always dreamed of, even the pieces I cannot control, coming together; it is petrifying. How could I have all this? I have done nothing to earn it. It is a gift I cannot bring myself to accept.

He is holding his hand out to me, telling me to take a step into the darkness. Who knew the one thing I would fear would be happiness?

In my philosophical musings I have come to accept that nothing lasts forever, and that is shouldn’t. Life is an ever-changing landscape with wonders and beauties of all different kinds to see along the way. It is not meant to be lived standing still. I have also come to accept the fact that as long as my home is in my heart, each scene will be mine, I will not be alone. I suppose that the next step is living these ideals; believing in the beauty, the goodness and the joy of life.

Now is the time to stop waiting for the “other shoe to drop”. It is time to let go of the fear and accept fully the happiness that has been offered to me, even the happiness that I have not earned. It is time to take the biggest risk of my life; accept joy and all the dangers of loss and disappointment that comes along with it. It is time to heal the wounded creature in my heart. It is time to learn to be truly fearless. I suppose it is time to learn to be more like Him. An open heart is a courageous one.

I have tasted perfection. When I let go it feels more like flying than falling. I want to spread my wings. I want to trust Him to not let me crash to the ground. God gave me the gift and the responsibility of an open heart. Imagine the possibilities if I open it up all the way. Imagine what love like that could do. It could light up a city.

I hear him now whispering, "Trust Me"...

Perfect Anticipation

This week I experienced something like bliss. I, for a moment, had everything I wanted. To me it is not the actual having, but the knowledge that it will be had, the attaining that matters. There is joy in the destination, but the journey is much longer and therefore gives the opportunity for even more joy. I have been granted the opportunity to study with the greatest minds in my field, on my way to gaining the career I have always wanted, surrounded by friends, loved, in the city I adore. I may not yet own my own apartment, or make the kind of money I want, or have the job I am after, but it's coming. It is all at my fingertips. Walking through the Village, feeling the warm breeze and perfect 75 degree weather that is neither hot nor cold, I had everything I ever wanted. I had the concrete version of hope: anticipation.

I left work early to go listen to a panel discussion on food in the context of memoirs. Entering the vast Bobst Library at NYU, I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all. The atrium is open, pulling your eye up the seemingly endless floors of books. There was a lounge area to my right, all wood paneling and portraits. There was so much history, so much greatness, I was in awe. As the speakers were introduced, my sense of wonder was heightened further. Before me were men and women who knew James Beard and Julia Child, the first panelist was the great-nephew of MFK Fisher! These people are my superstars, my heroes, the people I long to know. I want to collect them like porcelain figures, lining them up in pretty display case in my home. I want to keep them all and surround myself with them and bask in their stories and ideas. This is what I get to do! I have the unimaginable honor of working with these people, learning from them and perhaps one day teaching them something too. I want to be one of them, in the company of these giants.

It is not helpless longing, it is a reality. I have gotten something that I wanted so deeply, transforming a fantasy into a reality. It is no wonder than that walking out of the building, into that perfect spring air, that I felt so completely, peacefully happy.

The present and future are inextricably linked for me. I used to live in the past or the future, in a constant state of sentiment or dream. This can lead you down a very dark path. The past is untouchable and the future, especially if you have a dark vision of it, uncertain and cold. The place I now reside is solidly in the present, with the future as my horizon. It is always moving back as I move toward it, but knowing it is there, seeing it everyday more clearly as I near, that propels me forward.

In Colorado you can always tell West by the towering mountains, seeing them orients people. On a cloudy day, if they were to be masked, one would suddenly feel a bit lost. How could you feel anything but pleasure watching the beautiful, towering peaks in the distance? They are there, they are solid, they are waiting for your arrival. This is how I see my future and my dreams. I do not reside there, but they decorate my landscape, orient me and fill me with a glowing warmth.

My dreams do not make my present look inadequate, they make it breathtakingly beautiful. I can only hope the view from the top can compare.

Bouncing Back

Well, it was one hell of a week! I had the most atrocious look of misery plastered on my face, there was no rallying. The gig took a huge turn for the worse when I was stripped of my office and put in a little box with two clerks, phones that never stop ringing and not an ounce of privacy. My foodie group was being somewhat unresponsive and I was feeling very bleak. Nothing could pull me out of this funk, not a wine tasting, not kind words from Gus, not a damned thing!

Well, I hit rock bottom today and miraculously bounced. Things began to turn in my favor when I spoke to my "big boss" about the unacceptable office situation and she was as outraged as I was. Then I got a surprise call from a fellow in our Brooklyn office asking if I would be willing to come conduct some cooking classes for his PTSD patients. This pleased me immensely.

I wandered down to the 14th St CSA and met the lovely woman who runs the program. I should have know that she would be great, she is after all one of my "food people"!

All this positivity was enough to prevent a complete brain aneurysm when I received a call informing me that I was going to be stuck with an outlandish car repair bill. Yes, I took that one like a man.

Feeling almost human, I went to my bodega and bought some "almost real" food. Nothing much, just some soup and a frozen Kashi pizza, but it's a start! It is baby steps with me and my oven. The thought of cooking is starting to feel a bit less nauseating. In my mailbox I found my gift subscription to bon appetit, inspiration! This made me smile.

I suddenly felt excited about the new possibilities. This weekend I am going to get my home back in order, relax in my own skin and maybe, just maybe buy some real food to start cooking again.

I smiled effortlessly for the first time in days, not a cynical smirk, but a summertime, breezy, heartfelt smile.

I know it seems crazy, my current aversion to my greatest pleasure, but the idea of cooking for one, pouring my heart into a dish with no audience in mind; it is heart wrenching. Last summer was different. Each dish was for me, but I also knew that the great successes would be repeated for D when he got back. Cooking is an art, it is meant to be shared. Cooking for yourself is more like painting your walls. I must start thinking of it as a way to live well. I typically begin to eat simple, healthy food when I am alone. No great effort or creativity put forth. It is utilitarian, not artistic expression. It pains me to think of cooking a beef burgenon in my new Le Cruseut for an empty house. Perhaps I can learn to create beauty for me though. I am at least going to try to begin sustaining myself!

I am feeling hope anew today. On one of the harder, uglier days the sun seems to have peeked through the clouds. I suppose it feels as though the hole in my chest is beginning to be filled, one grain of sand at a time. That has been my overwhelming ache this week. Emptiness and anger.

You see, I did not realize what a huge, gaping hole D. would leave in my heart. The excitement and contentment I felt coming home to him, cooking for him, laughing with him. I have tried to fill that blasted hole with cocktails, food (Poor fattie Fi!), friends, work, but it all just disappears in the void. This, of course, leaves me starving for more: more attention, more carbs, a better job to lose myself in. When it all fails, I truly feel like I have nothing. That's where the anger comes in.

I have been so angry at myself, who else is there to blame? I am angry about my paranoid delusion that my neediness is poisoning my group, my heart and everything in my life. I am angry about screwing up, because only a screw-up could have such a shitty life. I am angry that I am stuck in a stupid job that doesn't even serve as a distraction for me. I am angry that I thought things would be for the best this way. I am so damned angry for not knowing how hard this was going to be. I am furious that when it comes right down to it, I have nothing real in my life or on the horizon. That's how I felt anyways.

The rational side of my mind knows that I am starting a new part-time culinary job on Saturday, I have an EWI Bo Ssam Event on Sunday (and no one is turning against me, there is an ebb and flow in participation in the group), NYU is still a possibility, Keith is coming in March, Jo is coming in May, Gus has already planned me one birthday outing. Basically, things are good in my life, it is just my pained perspective that is discoloring it. Guess what though? The rational side is finally gaining the upper hand!

My heart is starting, every so slowly, to see the beauty, to allow for genuine smiles. I know this burst of euphoria will probably not last, but I have gotten to the point in my life where I realize that it is not the unwavering durability of happiness that makes it valuable, any appearance it makes is worth savoring. I no longer live in fear of disappointment (well, not all the time!), I relish the good moments, knowing they Will not last indefinitely.

Life is long;long enough to see us through the bad times that seem interminable, and long enough to allow us to revel in the good times that we wish would never end. Who knows what kind of day tomorrow will be, but for tonight I will cherish my easy smile and glimmers of hope.

Happy

I have been bemused lately at my own state of happiness. It is not the overwhelming giddy feeling you get when something wonderful is happening, it is more solid, unencumbered by the usual dread of loss that usually accompanies these sensations. The happiness I currently possess is different, not a result of fate or good fortune, but something I attained, something I created.

I was unhappy, so I changed things. I took stock of those things that where missing in my life and rather than hoping or wishing they would magically appear, I went out and found them. So often we assume that the things we desire are out of our control, finding out how much actually is within our ambitious reach is a huge comfort for a control freak like me. Conversely, learning which things are not is my greatest sense of peace.

My life is not perfect, the turmoil in my heart and mind has not subsided, but it is thrashing under a soft blanket of happiness that seems to overpower the pain and anxiousness. The voice in my mind is whispering even now warnings, convinced that when happiness appears the storm is soon to follow. I can quiet this voice with the simple fact that the storm is already here, I have just found a way to rise above it.

Do I still get sad? Do I find myself in states of darkness? Of course. These annals of my life are proof of that. But somehow it doesn't matter so much anymore. The happiness is winning. For the first time in my life, it has the upper hand. I have the upper hand.

I chose to relish the joys and the pains until they both become mere threads woven together in the tapestry of my beautiful life.