This week I invite you to become curious.
Go do something you once loved, and haven’t done for a spell.
For me, today, it’s make waffles.
Around noon, I unearthed a heavy-duty stainless waffle maker in the back left of the lowest kitchen shelf, beneath a fantastic antique knife set I’d found at a flea market or antique store in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I’m focused to end 2019 (and #mydryyear) with a several year goal that is slow going: simplify, and in the clearing, let go of decades of “stuff” so I can create spaciousness for the emerging something. I’ve been disrupting gaps between how life shows up and what I deeply desire for a few years now.
Today, the waffle maker brought a flood of thoughts when I pulled it out to inspect it. Cabin memories flooded my awareness, and all the brunches cooked for my ex-husband, son, foster daughter, and students & friends in that special spot off Red Mountain Granite Canyon road near the Colorado-Wyoming border. I understand why this #intheclearing project is taking a long time – because it is connected with emotions and time. There are a mix of memories with most everything that awaits me in the garage (I’ve been putting “stuff” in there for years – stuff Jim left, and things of Justin’s, file cabinets and bins with 20 years of leading retreats and teaching and writing, sample books from authors and publishers over 15 years of being the media review editor for Presence journal, crafts, projects, tools, holiday decorations, fishing gear, camping gear, more tools, paint, this, that, and a whole lotta other.) This morning in my online practicum pod for a professional certification I’ve worked on all year, I realized that there is so much hidden support for our transitions and life focus.
“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep. Ask for what you really want, don’t go back to sleep.” – Rumi
I looked at that waffle maker, got curious. Knowing I’ve not been to the grocery store for a while, I was certain a package of Pamela’s gluten-free baking & pancake mix could be found on the pantry that might not be expired, and I had eggs, and oil. Smiling, I dusted the contraption off, read the instruction manual still tucked between the other grill inserts, put another log on the fire, cranked the music, and looked out at a misty, foggy November landscape. I googled how long to cook waffles (until they stop steaming) and followed Pamela’s perfect waffle directions. Fifteen minutes later, my plate overflowed with an entire batch of golden waffles, slathered in many spoonful’s from my one jar of liquid gold homemade blackberry jam my aunt and uncle make each year. Every bite and toasty waffle crumb delivered delight.
Meanwhile, Kula girl has never smelled a waffle. Watching me, as I neared my last bite, her priceless expression invited my response, and yes, I shared.
I’m curious what tomorrow will bring, and also, what you may discover! Share in a comment, send me a message, or connect offline if you take me up on this invitation–I’d love to hear what you do & discover.