sour cream banana bars

Life is soft today. I made sour cream banana bars for the Symphony potluck picnic, made a double batch of browned butter frosting, and felt my heart soften as I spread the warm frosting over the warmed bars. There's something visceral about cooking for me, something that lets everything extraneous drop away and lets me walk unhindered to my Center. It's a beautiful thing that saves me, over and over again.

I don't know what sent me into that spiral of the past week, I don't really care. I just know that each time is different - I'm able to be observer AND participant, and can make decisions every step of the way as to how I'm going to act/react. Sometimes I do it with dignity and honor, sometimes I crawl and snivel and whine, but I still keep going, and that's what counts, in the long run. I don't pretend to be better than I am - I'm just here in the thick of it like everyone else, trying to carve out a unique life, trying to help others however I can, trying to understand the greater things. Sometimes it's a breezy walk, sometimes the hurricane force winds turn me back and make me cry out in frustration and anger. Will nothing stop this process? The answer appears to be a constant "no" so I just choose to keep going. Forward movement is good. I choose to keep writing, and connecting with others, I choose to keep cooking, and hugging, and working with clients, and having parties and lunches and coffees with precious friends. I choose to keep my heart open, even if it's still pulsing with the physical loss of my dear mother. I choose my husband, again and again, even when I'm tired, or bored, or restless. I choose my life, every single day. I wouldn't trade one single second of it for anything else, especially not those sour cream banana bar moments - those are heaven to me, and probably constitute a bulk of my spiritual experiences to date. Odd? Maybe. Me? Most certainly.