The recipe of Life. Complex as it goes. I usually shy away from a lengthy list of ingredients. Too complex for my rebel soul. I, like most, prefer an easy path without too many items clogging up the works. More often though, there’s a maze of small and large tragedies jockeying for validation. Sprinkled with the connection of warm souls, add in condiments of personal accomplishment and a side dish of resilience. No shortage of ingredients in our lives. But all ingredients add to the final recipe, not just the sweet ones. Right?
Sometimes we take a no-thank-you-portion of negative/concerning experiences simmering and rising up into consciousness, for healing. Sometimes we lick the bowl containing all the positive/feel good lessons. This morning I am aware of this swirly-twirly mixture. Feeling amazed by my accomplishments, master chef, in the kitchen of life. Then, sensing the sadness and weight of how I stir it up once again. Pressuring myself to add more, be more, do more. Complicating the recipe. The recipe of life. Taking responsibility for our own healing comes with rewards we can taste.
A Fish Named Karen 