Cairn

What it takes to get through January

is what it takes to get through Life. 

~ Vivian Swift When Wanderers Cease to Roam

January has been really tough on me this year, one of the toughest Januaries I remember. Honestly, I am ashamed to say this and realize I have no one to blame but myself for the last 31 days as even the weather has been more cooperative than usual. I have had some rough Januaries like the January after my husband had a heart attack at the age of 41 or the January I was pregnant with my youngest daughter and the anniversary of our stillborn son was fast approaching. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, of that nature or magnitude has happened to start this year.

Rather, I am sitting and doing little compared to my usual busyness, often stewing in my own negativity. I am waiting for spring to arrive, for the move next summer, for the results of decisions completely out of my hands such as what colleges will accept my older daughter (really, all of them ought to be delighted to enroll her!), what options will lie before her, and what choice she will then make. Or, what will life be like in our new hometown for each one of us. What challenges lie ahead? What unexpected delights? Our circle of thoughts can be our greatest nemesis!

The only reason this is a tough January is that the month has made the best of my weaknesses, my desire to control life and to worry about the worst outcomes when I can't control it. I prefer to prepare for what's next and keep moving, working to meet the next goal. However, our life is on hold right now as we transition slowly which demands a patience I seem to be lacking at the moment even though I am primarily a two marshmallow girl to my very core.

I believe in fate and karma and serendipity, all things far beyond our control. We can only put our best foot forward just like our daughter put her best foot forward and see what happens. So, I am writing this post to dig deep and find my optimism and faith not in a higher power but in the knowledge that what will come, will come, and we will meet it when it does.

Stress and immobility come when the veil of our naivete of control is lifted. Much of life IS out of our control. We can only try to make the best decisions with the information we have in any point and time and face the rest with flexibility and hope. In fact, the lack of control is what makes life interesting, complex, surprising. For now, being present in the present is challenging, but the present is really, really good. Most of the time, I know this and live it. Sometimes, I need to remind myself, encourage my best self, and write a post like this.

So, I decided that perhaps I need to build my own cairn, my own heap of stones piled high as a landmark on this road. One stone placed each day in February can serve as a reminder of all my best intentions, my hopes and fears, my thoughts of gratitude and supplication. These cairn photographs from a recent hike are from Sapsucker Woods and the Andy Goldsworthy cairn found in its midst. A friend introduced me to his work, which anyone who loves nature will appreciate. With my cairn, I hope symbolically to heap my fears, to loosen my grip a bit, and to embrace February and all it may bring....

Launch

"Do you think any generation before has ever been this obsessed about food?" Jenny asked as four of us sat around her small, round kitchen table.

It was early January, and I had just walked across the street and through the neighbor's yard to her house just cater corner from my own for an impromptu gathering in the early afternoon. I joined another friend, Melissa, Jenny, and her husband, David, for a cup of tea and the fleeting opportunity to try English Christmas pudding, David's masterpiece and a family tradition.

As I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that food has always been an obsession for our species, primarily for survival. Now, some of us on this planet are privileged enough to obsess about food in search of the freshest ingredients to make the most tantalizing recipes, using the finest techniques. Somehow, the juxtaposition of our plenty with the food desert so much of the world's population still experiences puts me to shame.

Yet, sitting with my friends, I was reminded that in our modern, technological era, food serves a most primitive purpose. It connects us to cultural histories, familial traditions, and some of our fondest memories. As David sliced his Christmas pudding, moist and dark with dried fruit soaked in port and served with custard, he shared a piece of his English heritage.

The original family recipe hung on the wall above us, typed, matted, and framed, a family heirloom proudly displayed. David showed us the pudding molds with lids, large for gatherings and small to gift at the holidays, and added that coffee tins make excellent substitutes. Of course, the shared experience led to discussion about our parents and childhoods and holiday traditions.

I absolutely loved the pudding, and hope to try my hand at it, too, next December. More importantly, I will remember the gathering, the friends who extended the offer and shared so openly, and the reason food is one of my obsessions: the gatherings. The conversations and connections at the table with food in hand nurture relationships and cultivate learning in exceptional ways.

So, I hope you will join me as I divide my efforts in the blogosphere between two blogs. First, I will continue A Measured Word as a vehicle for me to write reflective pieces about my life and life in general on the better side of 40. Second, I am launching Gatherings and the Culpable Cook to focus on recipes, all things culinary, and the art of hosting the simplest gatherings at home with friends, old and new. As I contemplate my hand at beginning my own business in our new hometown next year, I hope to use these blogs as a springboard for things deeply personal, my internal, and daringly public, my external persona. If you like what you read and see, subscribe and join me on the journey.