I am aware that another post about chocolate could very well mean that it threatens to overtake popularity as a frequent topic on my blog- ousting traffic stories and doctor visits (well, how do you think one survives traffic and doctor experiences in Congo if not with good chocolate, really?) But this one is important- though not necessarily my favorite. Cuddling your chocolate promises to be my favorite expression for the next 10 years or so at least.
I have had a life long relationship with chocolate that I am very aware of. I remember the details about it in a way few other foods or pleasures evoke. As an adolescent, fearing myself fat and ugly, I swore off chocolate and pretended to hate it. I consumed it only in secret and was even ashamed to buy it - certain that the cashiers would be thinking to themselves- there, you see why she is so fat and ugly? It's because she eats all that chocolate. While not the prettiest child, I never was fat but merely a victim of media influence and low self-esteem. If only I had known about the healing powers of chocolate. NPR and a bunch of nurses can't be wrong.
My connection to chocolate has since changed dramatically. I have developed a taste for the dark, bitter, pure form of chocolate (the kind that is actually good for you as opposed to the candy bar kind that just adds calories and sugar to the diet.) Yes, I have become something of a chocolate connoisseur - a sure sign of being grown-up and a necessity in Congo, where bad chocolate can be found by the multitude and good chocolate costs a hefty 3-5,000 franc. If I am going to spend $5 on a chocolate bar, it better be good- and good for me.
The most important, and secretly delicious, thing that has changed in my relationship with chocolate is the pace at which I consume it. I can actually eat a few squares and then save the rest for the next day. I have such vivid memories of asking my mom (queen hoarder of treats and personal yummies) if she was going to eat that and wondering if she really wanted it why didn't she just eat it now?
There are few moments in life when I feel like a bona fide grown up. Having a job and going to work every day isn't all that much different than when I was younger (and I am a teacher- sooooo, I'm still going to the same place, still learning, still reading and writing every day.) Having a house just means I keep cleaning and cooking- things I've been doing since I was 10 at least. And children? Well, I've always been around children, taking care of them, playing with them, learning from them. None of these things have made me feel much like I've crossed the line from youth to maturity.
Being able to save a candy bar for the next day? Bingo. Now I know I'm an adult. But, ever looking for deeper meaning as I do, I understand the real reason behind my new found restraint. Patience. Growing older has allowed my to cultivate my ability to have patience, to savor life's moments and truly process them without giving in to reckless emotion. I don't need to devour my chocolate in 3 bites but have discovered it tastes better, in fact, when I draw out the pleasure, take small nibbles and truly enjoy each moment with my treat.
I used to think giving in to emotion was where passion stemmed from and that losing that would mean the death of dreams. Oh, my youth. I am beginning to understand- and it's just an inkling mind you, because I am aware there are many out there who will regard my numeric age with a mirthful grin and call me a 'young'un' - but I am beginning to understand the connection between passion and patience and what it truly means to patience.
Taking time to let remarks settle and find the best way to respond- or perhaps not to respond at all. Understanding when it is possible to reveal deep emotions in an effort to strengthen a relationship and when it is better to simply move forward accepting the relationship at the level it's on. Determining when it is possible to forgive and if not, how to forge a new path that doesn't bring hurt or shame to either party. Maturity is more than an age, but having practice and experience certainly helps. Because patience isn't easy to come by. Not the kind of patience that leads to serenity of being. Nor the kind of patience that allows one to focus on gratefulness and let go of the need to be in control. The patience that leads to passion needs time to ruminate and develop. I'm definitely getting there. And saving my chocolate is as good a first step as any.
Showing posts with label patience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label patience. Show all posts
22.5.14
14.7.12
the gift of patience
Turns out Kinshasa is not the only place that requires numerous trips to a variety of places in order to secure the weekly grocery needs. Spent a few good days in Pennsylvania touring the farm stands and discount grocery stores (and comparing ice cream places, naturally.) The rolling hills, curvy roads and abundant trees all reminded me of the Hudson Valley where I grew up in New York. While the landscape was familiar, the rest left me feeling like a tourist.
Parts of Pennsylvania are known as Amish country and I guess I landed about close to there. We have the Woodcrest Bruderhof in New York, but they ride in cars (at least, I think they do) and they mostly stick to their little plot of land in Rifton. This site describes "self contained villages" where "children attend daycare and elementary school on the grounds, and adults work in communal departments." Any work the Bruderhof members do directly benefits the community and does not result in personal gain. So, we didn't see much of them working in stores or out and about in the community. Occasionally, one or two children might attend the public high school, or a family could be seen shopping in the local stores, but mostly they seem to have or be able to make everything they need.
The Amish seemed quite different in this respect as they were visibly present in all parts of life. Horse drawn buggies driving down the road, women working as cashiers and ice cream parlor clerks. My first reaction was completely influenced by Stephen King (yes, I was raised on Children of the Corn and other horror movies of that ilk) and I had to resist the way their calm nature inspired creepiness in me. Instead I tried to just enjoy the kindness. And how I welcomed the pace. None of that too fast, too bright, neon- American life greeting me here. (And I was worried I wasn't ready for the US.)
As my friend drove me around and pointed out all of her favorite spots, I marveled at the freshness. While the milk seemed to come directly from the cow and the bread was probably baked only hours before, the freshness I'm referring to was in the simple honesty and ease of life people enjoyed here. As we drove past one house, she pointed out that they sometimes have a sign for fresh baguettes on the metal stand in their yard. When the sign is out, you can stop in their basement and pick up some hot bread and other goodies. Leave the money in a box on the counter. (She reasoned that the other goodies were meant to facilitate a change-free purchase. One baguette for $4 plus a yummy over sized brownie for $1 means you can easily leave a five. No customer service, no change needed.)
We also stopped at this little farm store, complete with cows, chickens and other wandering farm animals. Apparently the farm pasteurizes its own milk and had a freezer full of delicious looking ice cream (of course, after a year in Kin, any ice cream that comes in a gallon container begins to look mouth watering.) There was a variety of fresh vegetables and the money box on the counter. If no one is on hand when you arrive, just list the items you bought and leave the cash in the box. As we were making our purchase, someone did come in and sit behind the counter. He made a bit of small talk and my friend went off to....do something, leaving me to add up the bill. Something about being on the honor system made me especially conscious about making a mistake and my normally competent skills of addition took a small vacation. I had to double check for accuracy.
The best part of all these stops however, was that we were accompanied by her two very cute and oh so precocious toddlers. Every stop became an adventure. Going to get milk was not just a trip to the store but a trip to see the mama goat and her babies. It wasn't just picking up a few tomatoes and eggs, but also trying to catch the silkie chickens and pet their soft "fur."
Spending time with my friend and her little ones sent me reeling back to the time when my own kids were that small. I kept trying to remember if I'd had as much patience. I definitely remember a lot of rushing. But I also remember days at the park, going down the same slide over and over and thinking that this is exactly what parenting is about. Quiet times playing outdoors.
The trip to PA was exactly perfect for remembering all the important things in life- or the most important thing. Taking time to enjoy every moment (and before she shakes her head with a doubtful laugh.....) maybe every moment was not exactly enjoyable, but we were present. In the very now, the moment, looking at the animals, feeding grass to the goats, feeling the cool splash of water in a swimming hole. It's the lesson small kids teach us- and the one we seem to forget the easiest. Life isn't about rushing through, but it's about having patience to enjoy exactly what's happening right now. What a perfect gift for this rather turbulent time in my life. Because having patience makes us stronger and finding strength in America was the last thing I expected from this vacation.
Parts of Pennsylvania are known as Amish country and I guess I landed about close to there. We have the Woodcrest Bruderhof in New York, but they ride in cars (at least, I think they do) and they mostly stick to their little plot of land in Rifton. This site describes "self contained villages" where "children attend daycare and elementary school on the grounds, and adults work in communal departments." Any work the Bruderhof members do directly benefits the community and does not result in personal gain. So, we didn't see much of them working in stores or out and about in the community. Occasionally, one or two children might attend the public high school, or a family could be seen shopping in the local stores, but mostly they seem to have or be able to make everything they need.
The Amish seemed quite different in this respect as they were visibly present in all parts of life. Horse drawn buggies driving down the road, women working as cashiers and ice cream parlor clerks. My first reaction was completely influenced by Stephen King (yes, I was raised on Children of the Corn and other horror movies of that ilk) and I had to resist the way their calm nature inspired creepiness in me. Instead I tried to just enjoy the kindness. And how I welcomed the pace. None of that too fast, too bright, neon- American life greeting me here. (And I was worried I wasn't ready for the US.)
As my friend drove me around and pointed out all of her favorite spots, I marveled at the freshness. While the milk seemed to come directly from the cow and the bread was probably baked only hours before, the freshness I'm referring to was in the simple honesty and ease of life people enjoyed here. As we drove past one house, she pointed out that they sometimes have a sign for fresh baguettes on the metal stand in their yard. When the sign is out, you can stop in their basement and pick up some hot bread and other goodies. Leave the money in a box on the counter. (She reasoned that the other goodies were meant to facilitate a change-free purchase. One baguette for $4 plus a yummy over sized brownie for $1 means you can easily leave a five. No customer service, no change needed.)
We also stopped at this little farm store, complete with cows, chickens and other wandering farm animals. Apparently the farm pasteurizes its own milk and had a freezer full of delicious looking ice cream (of course, after a year in Kin, any ice cream that comes in a gallon container begins to look mouth watering.) There was a variety of fresh vegetables and the money box on the counter. If no one is on hand when you arrive, just list the items you bought and leave the cash in the box. As we were making our purchase, someone did come in and sit behind the counter. He made a bit of small talk and my friend went off to....do something, leaving me to add up the bill. Something about being on the honor system made me especially conscious about making a mistake and my normally competent skills of addition took a small vacation. I had to double check for accuracy.
The best part of all these stops however, was that we were accompanied by her two very cute and oh so precocious toddlers. Every stop became an adventure. Going to get milk was not just a trip to the store but a trip to see the mama goat and her babies. It wasn't just picking up a few tomatoes and eggs, but also trying to catch the silkie chickens and pet their soft "fur."
| Fuzziness on Feet |
 |
| Funny, furry friends |
 |
Everyone loves to hold the silkies and gaze out at the cows |
Spending time with my friend and her little ones sent me reeling back to the time when my own kids were that small. I kept trying to remember if I'd had as much patience. I definitely remember a lot of rushing. But I also remember days at the park, going down the same slide over and over and thinking that this is exactly what parenting is about. Quiet times playing outdoors.
 |
| I'm sure I have a similar photo of my cuties in a swimming hole in NY- oh the memories of sweet times. |
The trip to PA was exactly perfect for remembering all the important things in life- or the most important thing. Taking time to enjoy every moment (and before she shakes her head with a doubtful laugh.....) maybe every moment was not exactly enjoyable, but we were present. In the very now, the moment, looking at the animals, feeding grass to the goats, feeling the cool splash of water in a swimming hole. It's the lesson small kids teach us- and the one we seem to forget the easiest. Life isn't about rushing through, but it's about having patience to enjoy exactly what's happening right now. What a perfect gift for this rather turbulent time in my life. Because having patience makes us stronger and finding strength in America was the last thing I expected from this vacation.
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