Baking Through It

I have this sense of standing on a wooden bridge. 

The steps I've walked, these last seven months of the pandemic, have gotten me to this particular place on the bridge. I'm living in the current version of the "new normal," and I have absolutely no idea what a more long-lasting version of "normal" might look like when I reach the other side of the bridge, nor do I possess a clue as to how long it might take to walk there.

So, I'm on the bridge, except, nearly every day, it seems like someone is shooting at my freaking bridge! These shots come in the form of daily news: another revelation of government corruption; a lack of justice for Breonna Taylor; children still ripped from the arms of their parents, and left in cages; women in detention centers undergoing surgical procedures without their understanding or consent; leaders inciting violence; the world on fire - again; the death of true heroes, like John Lewis , and my personal favorite, Ruth Bader Ginsberg. I've read that I must prepare for a coup, and that a civil war may be coming. How do I process all of this?

Whether I duck or stand tall, and I've tried both, neither posture will hold my bridge together. The bullets plow into the wood, and splinters fly. I see gaping holes, where moments before my feet could have stepped, in an effort to reach the other side of this path. It's scary and exhausting. How might I gather my strength to navigate this bridge?

In the past, I’ve mentioned the Create-Sustain-Destroy cycle.

It is the natural life cycle. I spoke about this in a recent Third Option Wisdom video. The gist is this: we need all three parts of the cycle for health and balance in both our personal and greater worlds. Nature demonstrates this for us in a hundred billion ways. Trees are an easy example.

In the spring, trees evidence the create segment, as buds emerge and flower. As summer approaches, the leaves plump up the skyline, and the trees absorb nutrients while offering their life-giving oxygen to the creatures of the planet - sustaining itself and the rest of us. In autumn, the tree, as we've known it, is destroyed as the crisp weather tumbles the brightly colors leaves to the earth, leaving the tree looking all but dead throughout the winter.

We experience the essence of this cycle in all things. In fact, I suspect you are especially good at one or two of the segments. Typically, each person stumbles during one portion of the cycle - totally normal and human. That part simply requires a bit more help and attention, because no one aspect of the circle is better or more important than another. It is the wholeness of the thing that works.

Within me, "Create" rings strongest. My go-to mode manifests as creating something out of nothing. It didn't exist before, and then it does, because I've imagined and implemented it. This could be anything from a canasta group to a coaching program, with a myriad of other pursuits sandwiched between. If you are a creator, you may find it easy to start new relationships, or you might always have a fresh project on your plate. You are likely some sort of artist, albeit not necessarily in a traditional sense. I cannot draw or play an instrument. I have no facility with a glue gun or sewing machine. Still, I've been writing these newsletters for over ten years now, and that requires me to create something where it didn't exist before - I believe that is a kind of artistry.

My second tier strength of the cycle is "Destroy." I practice ending things that no longer work for me, whether they are relationships, jobs, certain ways of perceiving the world, or perhaps something I've created in the past. In any one of these cases, I might see an opportunity to "Destroy to Create." If so, I may end the way I relate to someone or something, shifting that relationship and engaging in a new way. It could mean redesigning a workshop I developed, to serve a different purpose. Destroy doesn't mean violence. It is a way of defining closure, completion, and release. If you excel in the destroy column, you may like to regularly purge the contents of your house. Perhaps you periodically change your hair style, friend circle, or willingly end a career that no longer fits.

My weak spot is sustaining.

Strong sustainers may be great at maintaining long-term relationships. They may love puttering in the garden, to keep things looking good. Sustainers could enjoy doing laundry, moving the furniture around the house to keep things feeling fresh, or other types of nurturing activities. I'm pretty sure ALL of my sustaining energy goes into my marriage, because that thing has been going on for a long freaking time! Mostly, though, I gravitate toward people who are strong sustainers. They offer a kind of support to me, just as I might lend my creative or destroying perspectives to them. In each case, we help each other keep the full flow going.

I've been thinking about this cycle quite a bit lately, as I travel my bridge. In the beginning of the pandemic, it was new. While stressful, I found myself creating more...newsletters, the inception of Third Option Wisdom videos and podcasts, working on developing my new website...all of this began with the start of our quarantine period.

Now, all these months in, I struggle with sustaining. I notice I need more rest. My time eating out, or inviting friends to social distance on my patio is especially precious, as New England begins to cool down, in preparation for winter. I realize, I need to find other ways to feed my soul, because sustaining, particularly when attempting to keep my head above water in the face of ongoing trauma (and I believe both the pandemic and the barrage of news emerging from events taking place in our home country qualify as trauma) drains the light out of me.

I have a variety of meditative and mindfulness practices I engage in regularly - many daily - or even multiple times a day. Even when I'm not on a bridge under attack, my practices morph and shift to meet me as I grow. These tools absolutely keep me sane, grounded, and connected to myself...except, I've noticed I need something more. I continue to seek out, and allow, additional support in the form of guides, teachers, body and energy workers, etc. Still...something more...please.

Maybe something new?

I've long hated cooking. I remember when I was in my 20's with my own apartment. I thought I'd be great at cooking, because that's what adults did, right? I'm not sure where I got that idea, because neither my mother, nor her mother, had much talent in the kitchen. My Italian grandfather fared a bit better, but he often made things that had more than one ingredient, for example, sausage and peppers. As a kid, that kind of combo wasn't for me.

My dad's mom made things from scratch. I still remember her mashed potatoes had lumps (which I loved) and her cupcakes had this incredible frosting. Yeah, well, the potatoes weren't made from flakes, and the icing didn't come from a can! But I only experienced those eats a handful of times in my life. Still, I'd made up this story that I should be able to cook.

My cooking fantasy did NOT work out the way I planned.

For one, recipes took so long to make, and it meant having to clean the kitchen. Then, I experienced an added challenge, in the early years with my husband. We had no money to go out to eat, and alternated chef duties nightly. Every meal I created, Mark proclaimed as "too salty or too cheesy." Uggh! Cooking of any kind became a complete misery for me; this torture went on for years.

Some years ago, I worked with a health coach. Nathalie offered lots of ideas and counsel. Two bits of advice stuck with me. She said, "Joanne, you're not a last minute kind of cook. You do best when you have all the ingredients in the house in advance." Completely true for me! She also advised, "You might want to think about making batches of food and storing individual servings for yourself in the freezer. Then you can have a home cooked meal, made with love, whenever you want ."

In the pre-pandemic "normal," Mark and I ate out more than in. Still, I took Nathalie's wisdom to heart. I stopped cooking on the day I bought groceries. And, filled my basement freezer (which I bought for this exact purpose) with lentil soup, quiche, sausage jambalaya, and a potpourri of other hand-crafted eats. I have to tell you, when I grab a container of beef stew on a cold night, it's like a little slice of heaven.

How does this relate to my bridge? 

When we entered the lock down, one of our daily routines - eating dinner out - was...shall we say...off the table, and take-out meal options were limited. This meant Mark and I were back to alternating meal prep. I cringed at the prospect, because what I like to cook and eat is different from what Mark enjoys.

As the weather warmed, we began hosting social distance dinner parties. We have a generous patio table, allowing Mark and I to sit on one side, while maintaining a six foot distance from our one or two guests. Did you read the part about these being "dinner" parties? Guess who was making the dinner? Good grief! What was I thinking?!

I chose menu items, I'd historically prepared, with a fair rate of success. Except, I selected one dish, each meal, I'd never made before. Often the X-factor was the appetizer. I figured, at least we'd have something else after, and could forget the awful, if it didn't turn out.

After several of these dinners, my step-daughter and her boyfriend, Alex, joined us. Since I've been feeding Julia for years, I knew, if I fed her pasta with a cheese sauce, she'd probably be happy. Still, I wanted to try on a new something, and puff pastry appetizers served that purpose. Nothing was spectacular, because I've eaten spectacular (my friends, Ed and Luciano, immediately come to mind), but no one got sick or went home hungry.

When next they came, we had pie on the patio. This was take-out pizza pie, Caesar salad with homemade dressing, and a fruit pie (I'd never made a pie before). The salad got lots of compliments, which I thought was hilarious, because Caesar is really just lettuce. And the pie, well, that turned into soup! It was nicely flavored soup, but no one could ever mistake it for pie.

Later that night, Julia queried what kind of fruit went into the dessert. I answered, and noted, "you can understand why I don't cook!" Then, she sent me this text: "No! Actually, what we said (which we say to each other all the time) is that you self-depreciate when it comes to your cooking AND you don't take compliments, even though everything is always delicious. AND if that was someone else doing that, you'd say, 'why are you trying to dull your shine :-)' bottom line is we always love your cooking and it's always delicious and flavorful!"

While I don't think I've ever used the phrase "dull your shine" in my life, this completely unsolicited, combo of ass-kicking and genuine compliment stopped me in my tracks. I started thinking about the foods I make and enjoy. The fact that Mark doesn't like them, and my terror of serving truly amazing cooks, does not represent the whole picture. I decided to manually update my thinking. With this paradigm shift, an amazing thing happened.

I found a new coping mechanism for dealing with my "sustaining" part of the bridge. 

I'm baking and cooking. Every week or so, I try out a few new recipes. For Mark's birthday, I made a tasty fruit tart. I'd never made a tart before in my life, and since I had an idea of what I was shooting for, I combined several recipes to create something we both enjoyed. My freezers have been overflowing with: pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, chocolate chip buttermilk scones, applesauce muffins, chocolate peanut butter bars, chicken pot pie, and host of appetizers.

There have been the disasters, of course. The buttermilk coffee cake that tasted good, but still seemed... wet. So, I decided, a day later, to toss it back in the oven for a little blast of heat. Well, I got a phone call, completely forgot about the cake, and...you can see from the photo what happened! The cinnamon rolls I attempted had a weird texture, and on the second batch of peanut butter bars, I forgot to tweak the recipe - so they were too sweet. But the amazing thing - I don't care! I'm as interested, in my horror show items, as I am delighted in the ones that work out.

Julia and Alex are my designated taste testers, but with no room left in my freezer, other friends are subjected to my experiments, too. Each time I attempt something new, I make use of that creative energy. I'm playing to my strengths, at a time when it's easy for me to feel weakened. I use the creativity within, to sustain and nourish my soul, which helps me navigate the war happening on the bridge.

If you, too, are struggling, consider which part of the cycle you find easiest to execute. 

Then, you might give yourself permission to engage in more of that behavior. The world needs an infusion of love and joy, and as each of us practice more of what we're good at, we may find those sweet feelings within ourselves - for ourselves. Only then, may they ripple out to a planet desperately in need of what we have to offer.

With love and encouragement,

Joanne Lutz