Pivoting

'The time has come', the walrus said,
'To talk of many things:
Of  shoes- and ships- and sealing-wax-
Of cabbages- and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings.'
-Lewis Carroll


The time has indeed come to talk of wondrous things.  Things of heartache, and melancholy.  Things of decisions, and ambiguity.  Things that cannot be comprehended without the power of words behind them.

Words are wondrous things.  They are weighty, and come with heavy responsibility.  They can transform and heal, they can dissect and destroy.  Who are we to understand them?

And yet, we do.

I've put some new quotes on the fridge  today.


A quote for acceptance:

"How 'bout me not blaming you for everything.
How 'bout me enjoying the moment for once.
How 'bout how good it feels to finally forgive you.
How 'bout grieving it all one at a time.
Thank you, India.
Thank you, Terror.
Thank you, Disillusionment.
Thank you, Frailty.
Thank you, Consequence.
Thank you, thank you, Silence."
-Thank U- Alanis Morissette


A quote for grace:

"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be.  Now put the foundations under them."
-Henry David Thoreau


A quote for healing.  A quote  that made me cry when I first saw it at a Craft Warehouse a few days ago.  A quote that made my mother cry as she also looked at it for the first time, and we hugged our sorrow and indignation out in that aisle, surrounded by family quotes and all-too-fresh remembrances of what we've recently lost.  Which ultimately, is a story for another time.

"Nobody can drive you crazy unless you give them the keys."
-Anonymous


And last of all, a quote for encouragement.  A quote that has meant the world to me time and time again.

"Keep on beginning and failing.  Each time you fail, start all over again, and you will grow stronger until you have accomplished a purpose- not the one you began with, perhaps, but one you'll be glad to remember."
-Anne Sullivan

Pivotal moments are what each of these quotes represent to me.  Pivotal moments that have changed  life as I knew it.  Signals, flashing red and yellow lights.  Obstacles, signs,  visionary moments of reveal.
"Speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be."

I knew I needed to change the quotes on the fridge today because not only did I feel it was time to start the cycle again, but because I knew it was time to pivot.  It was time to be overwhelmed by the end of life as I know it right now.

This morning I made myself breakfast as I listened to a playlist particularly ripe with memories. I didn't think anything of it as I fried the turkey bacon and sipped my hot, strong cup of coffee.  I didn't even have to think about what I was doing, I never really do when I'm making food.  Everything just goes together,  it always has.

Before I knew it, a completely assembled open-faced breakfast sandwich was sitting before me on the counter. Ezekiel bread, sharp cheddar cheese, two overeasy eggs, turkey bacon, sliced tomatoes.
Dido on the iPod dock behind me;  and I realized that as I stood with a cup of coffee in my hand and a hot plate of warm breakfast in front of me, I felt like the ruler of the world.

When I cook, when I make food,  I feel like a goddess.  Nothing can touch me.

Writing is something that I love more than life itself, when I think of how much I yearn for it, and how much I would sacrifice and give for it, I want to cry. Tears well up behind my eyes because nothing I do can free me quite like writing can.  But it comes at a very high price.  For every feeling of happiness, euphoria and relief that it brings, there is twofold of pain.  No matter what it is that I write, a huge part of me is taken away once the words hit the paper.  Writing is something that I have to give myself to over and over and over again. I sacrifice a part of me for everything I write, and it never gets easier, it never gets less painful or less exhausting.

Am I complaining?  Never.  I've been given a gift.  I have a way with words and I would never exchange that for anything less harmful.

But cooking doesn't hurt me.  It doesn't split me into a thousand tiny pieces and it doesn't make me sad.  Writing is what I'm good at, it's who I am.  But cooking is what heals me.

And I think that's why I'm going back to it, all of the sudden.

There's a 12 week course at an infamous cooking school in Ireland called Ballymaloe, and I think that's where I'm going after bible school.  The only way I'm going to be able to travel and meet people, have life-changing  experiences and eat amazing food is if I'm writing about the food that I'm eating.

Students at Ballymaloe have gone on into various fields including restauranteering, becoming private chefs on yachts, and food journalism.  Food writing.  Travel writing.

I've been sitting tight on this for a week, now, but it's not the first time I've encountered this school, or this thought process.  I researched it fairly extensively a year and a half ago, but ruled it out when I ruled out Le Cordon Bleu and the Art Institute culinary programs.  I didn't want them, even after multiple interviews, so I figured I wouldn't want Ballymaloe either.

And then by chance last week at my doctor's office, I came across an article about the school in one of the magazines.  And so I ran the numbers, and I told my mom.

I'm not making any plans because my plans have never worked out in the past.  But I'm feeling happy about it.  I'm feeling peaceful.  And that to me is more important that figuring everything out right now, anyways.

Who knows where it could take me?

Maybe someday after that, I'll go to bartender's school.  Maybe I don't need a four-year college degree.  Maybe I just want to learn a little about a lot, instead of a lot about a little.

Pivotal moments.  The end of life as I know it.