I’ve heard it said that “life is fired at you point blank.” These days, I am learning more about this and more about my capacity to respond and my tendency to react…my ability to surrender; let go and my tendency to cling…my attachment to “expert/ all-knowing/ controlling mind” and the possibility of non-attachment in “beginner’s mind.”
When something has to give, I let go of blogging. I think that altogether I’ve missed maybe four days. Yet, I carry the sense of “what-has-this-day-been-about” in my belly…musing; reflecting.
In this holiday time, I notice that my energy is very much about doing–working, baking, shopping, decorating. I also notice that there is something that is changing about how I do “doing” and the pleasure of simply being present while managing multiple “to do’s” in my own head.
There are four kinds of cookies that generations of women in my motherline always baked at Christmas. The tricky ones are the Scottish Shortbread which require 20 minutes of kneading and the Sand Tarts which must be rolled paper thin. I remember my mother making dozens of each and us devouring them–I also remember her swearing–rolling pin in hand–frustrated by cookie dough sticking, burning and generally being difficult to handle. She was taught that only way to roll the dough thin was to have it very cold…which meant you really needed arms like Popeye because it was so stiff. She tried rolling between sheets of wax paper–only marginally helpful. Still, somehow, she got them construction paper thin while her mother managed to get them tissue paper thin.
Yesterday, in the wee hours of the morning, I rolled out three trays. At first, I found myself tackling the dough–dominating with my rolling pin and struggling a bit–in the mode doing what needed doing. Then, something in me settled; relaxed; let go. I rolled gently and only a little at a time and stayed present and patient and remembered that my motivation for doing this in the first place was the pleasure of watching people enjoy eating them and the deep sense of connection with years of tradition. I thought about my own daughters baking them for their families and friends in the future. I thought about how so many family traditions fall by the wayside…and how those that we carry on nourish and nuture the soul.
And where, the inquiring mind wishes to know, is the recipe, or more specifically all of the recipes? Maybe we can give your motherline a small boost.
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I know many young people who despise any sort of family traditions. It leads me to believe that our world has become increasingly tasteless and discolored — young people are rapidly losing their identity.
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