Baking My Life: Nit, Grit, Stardust and Glitter
Baking a cake:
Combine the wet and dry
Grease the pan
Place in warm oven
The sweet smell starts to waft through the kitchen reminding me that yes indeed there is a cake in the oven. Yes indeed the actions I took last week :: last month :: last year to gather the ingredients are now taking shape in this cake. Yes indeed the combining and the stirring and the greasing all mattered.
As much as the timer will tell me when it’s done, if I am sensitive and paying attention, I will know that it’s done by the smell. The smell will speak to me. Then I will take a knife and slice gently into the center to see if it is ready. Even if the timer says it is done—I still must discern with gentle touch and examination.
I see my growth in the same way. The baking of the cake is a metaphor. I can feel the years of work that I have put into myself and my life rising into a simple delicious cake. It is not a pretty cake, necessarily, but it sure tastes good. It is hearty and tasty and not too sweet. It’s light on the frosting and feels like home. The cake is filled with the seeds I planted all those years ago.
I am waking early these days. I guess I could call it a sleeping issue and chalk it up to hormones, the moon, and the solar energy… and yes: because I am who I am, I do peek in and look at those things. Lately, however, I've been choosing to see my early morning wake up as an invitation. An invitation to get up and to walk into my kitchen and to sit in the dark and tune into myself my soul and the divine...a sacred invitation...not a chore, but an invitation just for me..
The gifts I am receiving here are a result of the ingredients I gathered 20, 15, 10, 2 years ago. These are the splendid moments of growth and ache and dreaming that are meeting me in the wee hours of the morning on the kitchen floor.
I am baking a glorious cake and it is filled with roses and tears and blessings and a whole lot of hard work. It is baking in the sugar of my creativity and the salt of my fear. I am spilling open with all of me.
I could have bought a “perfect” cake but honestly I am just not that interested in pretty or perfect anymore. I want stunning. I want the kind of beauty that comes through when you see the truth and touch that place deep within. I don't want to see a perfect home with children dressed in perfect clothes posing for a picture, I want the messy truth that happens when we ache and stumble and create our lives from there.
There isn't any one place where we can get all that we desire. Nobody outside of us will give it to us. There is no store filled with peace and clarity and faith and hope. Only our spirits are filled with that. A new dress may provide a moment of satisfaction and feeling pretty, but that pretty won't hold the rain off your head when it’s pouring rain, and pretty won’t keep you company when the nights are cold and dark. A strong connection to your soul will protect you from the storms.
And so the cake I created today is one I am proud of. One that I know I deserve and that I created with my own hands. It’s the nit and the grit and stardust and glitter of going through the everyday and choosing to be wild and wide awake.
Today, recognize the life you have created and acknowledge yourself and give yourself compassion. Keep gathering, dancing and being all of you.