Lost

Six months ago I was a happy, confident woman who felt hopeful about the future, inspired and creative, sure of whom I was and the path I wanted to be on. Where did that person go? Sometime in those six months, I lost myself.

For the last few weeks I have been desperately searching for a glimpse of that missing girl. I’ve read books, I’ve done surveys. I even bought O Magazine because this month’s issue was “Who are you meant to be? A step-by-step guide to finding (and fulfilling) you life’s purpose.” Not surprisingly, Oprah didn’t have the answers either.

What did surprise me in all of my searching and survey-taking was how consistent my results were; the same themes kept repeating themselves. These are the things I know: I need to be creative in some form or another. I love knowledge of any kind and learning, just for the sake of learning. People are fascinating; how we are similar, how we are different, how we are all connected. I crave love and security. I feel joy when I sing. Baking soothes my soul. I need to write.

That seems like quite a bit, actually, so maybe I’m not really lost. Maybe I just got a bit disoriented and started moving in the wrong direction. So now I need to turn myself back in the right direction and take the next step. What's the next step?

I’ve signed up for a writing challenge to write a novel in November. The idea of writing 50,000 words in 30 days is more than a little daunting, especially since I still don’t know what I’m going to write about. But the concept of the challenge is to let go of the need for perfection. Once you give yourself permission to write crap, you’re more likely to write something worth reading. Either way, I think this will be a good way to get back on my path.

Harvest Time

Fall makes me want to bake, pies especially. I want to make roast chicken dinners with all the fixings and apple pie for desert. I want to bake homemade bread. I want to cook pots and pots of soup. I want to make jam and applesauce. I want to create hearty meals for my family.

But I don’t have a family to cook for. I don’t even have any fruits and vegetables to harvest and I don’t know how to bake bread. I’m a modern woman with a house, a car and a career. I’ve done it all on my own with no husband which is a source of pride because I’ve often been labelled as “dependant.” And yet...there it is; this yearning. So where does it come from?

For generations, the women in my family have harvested the fruits and vegetables they’ve grown. Waste was the ultimate sin. Each season brought a new crop and a new opportunity to create something wonderful. Cooking is an expression of creativity. To take the same basic ingredients and turn them into a delicious meal is magical. And what they created wasn’t just food, it was memories and love. Strawberry tarts mean spring is here, it’s graduation time! A pot of soup is a pot of comfort, a warm hug from the inside out. So I’ve come to realize that this yearning comes from a connection to the women who came before me, from a desire to express my creativity and something else; something more basic and yet more important. It’s very simple: Food = Love.

Love is like those fruits and vegetables. It needs to be harvested and something magical created with it. I have a lot of love to give and I’ve been wasting my crop. I share it with my friends, my siblings and my parents but, until recently, I’ve avoided sharing that love with a partner. Choosing not to harvest that love and share it with someone special has left me unsatisfied. I’ve started to harvest that fruit but, just like cooking, every recipe is not a keeper. Fortunately, love is a crop that ripens often. So I’m going to take some time to let the fruit ripen again and then I guess I’ll try a new recipe.