My friend called the other day and left me a message that she was, once again, unemployed. She just had her second surgery on her rotator cuff in two or three years, is completely blown out emotionally from the stress of work, and showing signs of post traumatic stress disorder.
She is a front of the house manager at a prestigious Sacramento restaurant—and this is par for the course. The woman is staring down the barrel of 50, making 50-60k a year if she's lucky, has nominal health insurance, lives hand to mouth, and has to work at least 70 hours a week for all of these amazing benefits. Work is so demanding that it leaves no time, much less energy, for obtaining education or training in another field, or even to search for a new restaurant to work in—which, even if she switched venues, the expectations would be the same. Despite the intense physical pain of her injuries, the time off that they provide is an enormous blessing in her life. Unfortunately, the entire time spent on the dole is wrought with anxiety over how to make ends meet, and nightmares about the impending doom of returning to the soul-sucking establishment of her masters. Her trauma runs so deep she doesn't even know what she would do given all the time and money necessary to obtain those goals.
I can truly empathize. Not long ago, I was in the same position. Coming home from my stay in Pennsylvania with Unci Kiaya, and grieving so much for the loss of two loves—a man, and wheat—I knew some life changes needed to be made, but didn't have a clue where to begin. I had always held these beliefs that people are born with gifts, and those gifts are our passions. When one shares their particular gifts with the world, life unfolds its beauty in ways unimaginable. These were beliefs I had never actually lived, however. I was scared. As much as I truly believed that life was conspiring for my success (in the words of Rob Brezsny), I was too afraid to put those beliefs into action. For me, it took hitting rock bottom, and completely giving up hope, to fully surrender to the gifts of life. I had written down what I wanted, I had made prayer ties and burned sage, I had said mantras and performed ceremonies around desires, and when I finally gave up any attachments to outcomes, that's when things really started taking off.
I have about three major passions in this life: food, gardening, and writing. In my traumatized state, I felt that I would have to leave the world of food completely, and seek out a financial path altogether different from what I had been doing in order to find peace. I kept spinning my wheels thinking of ideas that could take me somewhere other than the poor house, and beyond mediocrity. I wanted to capitalize on my strengths, but I was so engulfed in fear and panic that I couldn't even see what those were. I tried on a myriad of hats in my desperation, before finally giving up. I had to make money, so I would do what I've always done. I would cook. Only now, it was, at least partially, on my own terms—as a catering chef. It wasn't what I was looking for, ultimately, but at least I could choose my own gigs, and somewhat make my own schedule, and if one Jefe treated me poorly, there were plenty of others to go work for.
It was around this time of hopelessness that I met my Love. This was one of the two things I prayed for—a real partnership. This was also something I had all sorts of ideas about: who it would be, what he would look like, act like, what age he would be, and how it would feel. Once my attachment to those "ideals" was gone is when he showed up—and, boy, is this relationship so much better, and sexier, than anything I could have dreamed of! He has also brought to my life amazing gifts of insight and healing. Foremost, he has allowed me to be a housewife (something I have always desired secretly, but never allowed myself to actually dream of. The idea of finding fulfillment as a homemaker goes against the feminist ideals I was raised with, but alas, this traditional role is what has allowed some of my greatest breakthroughs). He has also supported me through our relationship coaching. These two combined have been the recipe for the most profound healing I have experienced in this life.
My involvement in a weekly class targeting the psychology of relationship has brought to light so many of the unconscious thoughts and patterns I have been living by, and having the time and safety to explore those inner workings has helped me to unwind the traumas hitherto linked with my deepest passion. By relieving me of my obligations for rent, food, and other basic necessities, I have been allowed to—even forced to—face my inner demons, discover what brought me to those places, and heal, little by little, from a lifetime of conditioning. Funnily enough, it has also brought me back to where I started—rekindling my passion for all things food.
With the spring has come a new emergence. Adam provided me with a cocoon of down comforters encased in gold, and now I am feeling the urge to stretch out these newly spun wings, but I am afraid. I don't have to leave the safety of this nest. I could go on indefinitely, cooking him lovely meals for us to enjoy together and turning our backyard into an oasis in the city. But, I feel a deeper yearning for more. It is time. And, it will happen. But, oh the fear!
As everything in my life returns back to food, it really does strike me that the euphemism is akin to the reality. Actually peeling onions can be a painful and tedious process filled with many tears. But once the work is done, there is only the sweet, healing flesh to enjoy. It would seem that as each layer of this life is healed, and peeled back, another opportunity for growth reveals itself. I was just reminded by two teachers of mine from many years ago that, "True healing can only come from a place of Love." "Either you're in love or you're in fear, and when love moves out, fear moves in."
Truly, I have Love to thank for the many blessings of this life—and for the many more to come!
She is a front of the house manager at a prestigious Sacramento restaurant—and this is par for the course. The woman is staring down the barrel of 50, making 50-60k a year if she's lucky, has nominal health insurance, lives hand to mouth, and has to work at least 70 hours a week for all of these amazing benefits. Work is so demanding that it leaves no time, much less energy, for obtaining education or training in another field, or even to search for a new restaurant to work in—which, even if she switched venues, the expectations would be the same. Despite the intense physical pain of her injuries, the time off that they provide is an enormous blessing in her life. Unfortunately, the entire time spent on the dole is wrought with anxiety over how to make ends meet, and nightmares about the impending doom of returning to the soul-sucking establishment of her masters. Her trauma runs so deep she doesn't even know what she would do given all the time and money necessary to obtain those goals.
I can truly empathize. Not long ago, I was in the same position. Coming home from my stay in Pennsylvania with Unci Kiaya, and grieving so much for the loss of two loves—a man, and wheat—I knew some life changes needed to be made, but didn't have a clue where to begin. I had always held these beliefs that people are born with gifts, and those gifts are our passions. When one shares their particular gifts with the world, life unfolds its beauty in ways unimaginable. These were beliefs I had never actually lived, however. I was scared. As much as I truly believed that life was conspiring for my success (in the words of Rob Brezsny), I was too afraid to put those beliefs into action. For me, it took hitting rock bottom, and completely giving up hope, to fully surrender to the gifts of life. I had written down what I wanted, I had made prayer ties and burned sage, I had said mantras and performed ceremonies around desires, and when I finally gave up any attachments to outcomes, that's when things really started taking off.
I have about three major passions in this life: food, gardening, and writing. In my traumatized state, I felt that I would have to leave the world of food completely, and seek out a financial path altogether different from what I had been doing in order to find peace. I kept spinning my wheels thinking of ideas that could take me somewhere other than the poor house, and beyond mediocrity. I wanted to capitalize on my strengths, but I was so engulfed in fear and panic that I couldn't even see what those were. I tried on a myriad of hats in my desperation, before finally giving up. I had to make money, so I would do what I've always done. I would cook. Only now, it was, at least partially, on my own terms—as a catering chef. It wasn't what I was looking for, ultimately, but at least I could choose my own gigs, and somewhat make my own schedule, and if one Jefe treated me poorly, there were plenty of others to go work for.
It was around this time of hopelessness that I met my Love. This was one of the two things I prayed for—a real partnership. This was also something I had all sorts of ideas about: who it would be, what he would look like, act like, what age he would be, and how it would feel. Once my attachment to those "ideals" was gone is when he showed up—and, boy, is this relationship so much better, and sexier, than anything I could have dreamed of! He has also brought to my life amazing gifts of insight and healing. Foremost, he has allowed me to be a housewife (something I have always desired secretly, but never allowed myself to actually dream of. The idea of finding fulfillment as a homemaker goes against the feminist ideals I was raised with, but alas, this traditional role is what has allowed some of my greatest breakthroughs). He has also supported me through our relationship coaching. These two combined have been the recipe for the most profound healing I have experienced in this life.
My involvement in a weekly class targeting the psychology of relationship has brought to light so many of the unconscious thoughts and patterns I have been living by, and having the time and safety to explore those inner workings has helped me to unwind the traumas hitherto linked with my deepest passion. By relieving me of my obligations for rent, food, and other basic necessities, I have been allowed to—even forced to—face my inner demons, discover what brought me to those places, and heal, little by little, from a lifetime of conditioning. Funnily enough, it has also brought me back to where I started—rekindling my passion for all things food.
With the spring has come a new emergence. Adam provided me with a cocoon of down comforters encased in gold, and now I am feeling the urge to stretch out these newly spun wings, but I am afraid. I don't have to leave the safety of this nest. I could go on indefinitely, cooking him lovely meals for us to enjoy together and turning our backyard into an oasis in the city. But, I feel a deeper yearning for more. It is time. And, it will happen. But, oh the fear!
As everything in my life returns back to food, it really does strike me that the euphemism is akin to the reality. Actually peeling onions can be a painful and tedious process filled with many tears. But once the work is done, there is only the sweet, healing flesh to enjoy. It would seem that as each layer of this life is healed, and peeled back, another opportunity for growth reveals itself. I was just reminded by two teachers of mine from many years ago that, "True healing can only come from a place of Love." "Either you're in love or you're in fear, and when love moves out, fear moves in."
Truly, I have Love to thank for the many blessings of this life—and for the many more to come!
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