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Ingredients
At age seventy-two, I’ve suddenly realized that having a happy life and living authentically, is like slow-cooking. It’s about allowing myself to gather the ingredients for a recipe and letting it simmer on the back of the stove on the lowest flame possible. When my mother taught me to make her heavenly, cure-all chicken soup, she said, “Put all the ingredients in the stock pot, bring it to a raging boil, then turn the heat down until it’s just smiling.” What she meant was that it needed to cook very slowly. There would be no bubbling; only a slight shimmer on the surface of the liquid, and then you let it sit like that all day, while you went about your business.
In 2008, I finally accepted the fact that I was struggling with PTSD. It made sense because of my history of being abused as a child, and spending most of my adult years suffering from depression and extreme anxiety. Not wanting to spend the rest of my life being unhappy, I decided to seek help and quit blaming my pain on everyone else around me. Taking full responsibility for who I am and what I put out into the world was/is my goal. After three years of therapy with a psychologist whose specialty was dealing with trauma, I was well on my way to becoming whole and finding ways to deal with life on my own terms. This is how I did it:
I imagined my life as huge layer cake with too many dense layers to count. The layers themselves never had distinctive flavors. They were simply made up of different parts of my life, including what I do on a daily basis; the getting up, going to work, and then to bed kind of things, that go on day after day, like paying the bills, shopping for groceries, doing the laundry, and putting up with the dog across the street that barks all night.
In between each layer I hid the nitty-gritty stuff; my raw emotions, unhappiness, anger, losses, my victimhood, shame, boredom, laziness, fear, depression, and lack of hope. But mixed in with all that bitterness were tiny bits of something rather pleasing that I couldn’t identify. It was like a distant voice telling me to wake up and smell the roses. On occasion it sang to me and presented me with visions of huge bouquets of freshly picked tulips and daffodils.
Tired of that same old, same old, wanting to hear more music, and be given magnificent bouquets of flowers, I set out to bake a new cake for myself. I wanted the layers to be lighter and flavorful. Almond, dark chocolate, honey, or vanilla were just a few possibilities. I imagined it’s butter cream frosting sprinkled with red and pink rose pedals, and dusted with finely shredded coconut. In between the layers I envisioned things like fresh strawberries, chocolate ganache, marzipan, pineapple, and a host of other delicacies that would make life sweeter and a happier place to be.
The first thing I did was sit down outside in the sun and allow myself to stare into space. I tried to envision where I could find some of the necessary ingredients for this new cake. Instead, I found my eyes closing as I listened to a light breeze whispering through the pines. A mockingbird called out, trying out its own version of meowing as it flitted through the yard, teasing Lilli, the cat. I dozed off and woke feeling deliciously peaceful.
After several days of returning to the same spot, hoping to discover the place where I could find those seemingly unattainable ingredients, I realized I had found the most important one. By allowing myself to relax, empty my mind, and feel the warmth of the sun all over my body, I felt calmer, and happier. Over time, I found I could repeat the experience, even stuck inside on cold, rainy, or snowy days. The burdens I’d been carrying grew lighter.
Instead of feeling constantly rushed by what I thought I needed to be doing, I took to saying, “NO,” when asked to do things that overwhelmed me. I refused to be rushed into making snap decisions, or driving like a maniac to get to the theatre, movies, or appointments on time. It was hard. Everyone around me was on speed. Used to taking care of everyone else’s wishes but my own, I often slipped backwards into old patterns, feeling further abused. I blamed my slip ups on everyone else, while kicking myself in the butt for being stupid. But with practice, it got better.
I instead of filling my journal with rants about life and a litany of mundane things I’d done each day, I began adding notes about things I was grateful for, including those wonderful “light bulb moments,” that suddenly began appearing on a regular basis. From there I started several blogs where I published poems I’d written, and longer pieces about the natural world.
When the idea of writing a book came to me, this current blog, was my starting point. I posted family stories here and as the idea of writing a memoir became real, it’s where I continuesharing my stories and exploring my journey as I continue to heal.
Through writing about one small part of my life in, Me, Myself, and Mom, I see my life and those within it through new eyes. It’s all been sitting in the stock pot on the back burner of the stove, taking its sweet old time. And after a very long bake, is the best cake I’ve ever baked. It too has taken time. There is no instant gratification doing it my way, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been before. And life is sweet enough that I’ve given up sugar and gluten as another way to stay healthy.
Is your life boiling away into thin air, or is it on the back burner, smiling as it slowly cooks?
Beautiful post, Joan. Isn’t it funny how we come at things sideways sometimes? In imagining on a layer cake, you found the perfect way to feed the spirit by sitting in the sun and meditating.
Very inspirational. Thank you!
Thak you, Saloma. I think many of us approach life “sideways.” Accidental moments teach us many things.
Wonderful post Joan! I love the metaphors for your journey of healing and spirit 🙂
Mindfulness practice is so centering and healing.
May you always come to find your middle ground <3
Val xo
p.s. My life is a series of courses cooked at different temperatures and tempos. At this stage I can see that the best part of it is slow and full of rich tenderness.
Thanks, Val. Life is a feast. Sometimes the food is cooked to perfection, other times it spoils easily.
Joan — I love, Love, LOVE your recipe for joy-filled living. And if the “proof is in the pudding,” you’re one mighty fine example!
To use your mom’s turn of phrase, I like to keep the pots on my back burners “just smiling.”
Laurie, Thanks so much. This “pudding” isn’t quite perfect yet, but I keep working on it.
We’d all be so much happier if we could learn to slow down, let things evolve in their natural sort of way without pushing and hurrying everything along. Things left to simmer definitely have more flavor and provide a richer kind of sustenance.
It’s a hard lesson. I’m getting better at it, but it’s taken me a long time to get even this far!
It seems to be one of life’s hard lessons, Becca, especially in this technological world we live in. Things have sped up too fast, and we feel we have to keep up with it. It’s hard to take on the role of the turtle in the race for life.
Your cooking imagery seems to me a lovely variation on the “lemons to lemonade” expression. In making your mother’s chicken soup recipe you nurture your own palate and spirit, moving past the family abuse you suffered as a child. Baking layered cakes is a rich metaphor for life’s lightness and joy which you have chosen over bitterness.
I keep a gratitude journal too . . . wouldn’t be without it.
Marian, Thanks so much. I’m feeling a huge amount of gratitude for the women, like you, who are making this life journey such a pleasure.
Joan, such a lovely metaphor for finding one’s authentic life–choose the right ingredients and let them time to “simmer and smile.” I love that you are the cook and get to choose both the ingredients and the way to turn them into a delicious recipe for life.
Kathy, Though it’s taken a long time for me to discover this, we must all choose our own ingredients for the lives we lead. Thanks for being a part of mine recipe!
Joan, I love the color of your writing. “It was hard. Everyone around me was on speed.” I am right there with you, wanting the world to slow down, and listening to my own drummer when they don’t. And your imagery with the food … Let’s just say I’m quite hungry and I’ve got another hour before supper is ready! But really, this was wonderful. Thank you.
Janet, Thanks so much. I LOVE writing about food. But eating it is even better! Especially when you’re hungry. 🙂
“There is no instant gratification doing it my way, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been before.”
Yes! Slow food, slow writing, slow life. The best way to enjoy the pleasures of the “Third Age.” Love your resilient spirit, Joan.
Shirley, thanks for your kind words. And yes, it is the perfect and most pleasurable ways to spend this season of my life. What makes it even better is being surrounded with dear friends like you!
What a wonderful journey you’re on. Congratulations for dumping the blame and not only seeking help, but committing to your healing, growth, and happiness.
When I wrote in my book on happiness that we must learn to “say yes to ourselves and no to other people,” my kids and grandkids gasped. I guess they thought I was advocating negativity, meanness and selfishness. It doesn’t matter what they thought since I had finally learned to declare “It’s my turn” and take responsibility for my own happiness.
I love the new recipe you’ve created for yourself. Please know that you have many fellow bakers who are creating equally delicious lives.
As I read your post, I was cheering your courage, resourcefulness, and mostly your never-give-up attitude. Thanks for sharing your story. It means a lot to the rest of us on the same path,
Flora, Thanks so much for stopping by and leaving your lovely comment. Also appreciated is your validation and cheering me on. Too many of us don’t know that others are out there going down the same path. By finding those people we come together and change together.
Lovely post, Joan. I like the imagery of soup, and life, simmering until it’s “smiling”. That’s a perfect analogy for the simple life.
Thank you, Linda. The simple life is the best, filled with simple foods and easeful living.