April 19, 2016
I forgot to remember from last year, what it feels like when my seniors are about to leave. Probably I forgot on purpose, the kind of amnesia that allows you to do something hard all over again a second time, and then sign up to do it a third. As Michael Pollan discusses in The Botany of Desire, which I just finished this weekend and highly recommend, pain is difficult for us humans to remember. We hold on to vague generalities, but dispense with specific, excruciating sensations, yielding a system that “help[s] us endure (and selectively forget) the routine slings and arrows of life.”
Some forgetting is necessary—that’s clear. Were we to keep impeccable records about every painful experience from the past, we might opt out of human life altogether and disappear never to be heard from again. (And we probably all know at least one person who’s done the metaphorical equivalent, keeping themselves at an emotional arm’s length so as not to have to relive a painful past.) But there is something to be said for selective remembering, or maybe reminding; in a very different but also highly recommended book, Pastrix, Nadia Bolz-Weber talks about the quarterly events her church—the House For All Sinners and Saints in Denver, Colorado—holds for new members of their community:
I am always the last to speak at these events. I tell them that…I have learned something by belonging to two polar-opposite communities…and I wanted them to hear me: This community will disappoint them. It’s a matter of when, not if. We will let them down or I’ll say something stupid and hurt their feelings. I then invite them on this side of their inevitable disappointment to decide if they’ll stick around after it happens. If they choose to leave when we don’t meet their expectations, they won’t get to see how the grace of God can come in and fill the holes left by our community’s failure, and that’s just too beautiful and too real to miss.
Let’s add third voice to this conversation: the Buddha’s. I’ve been teaching about Buddhism the past two weeks, super-conveniently I might add (fellow teachers, isn’t it amazing how often we end up teaching exactly what we ourselves need to hear?). At the core of the Buddha’s teachings is the assertion that it is not in the nature of impermanent things (which we are naturally surrounded by—humans, animals, relationships, objects, feelings are all impermanent) to cause permanent happiness. This is logical; we know this. We know that things will change, that nothing lasts forever, that our bodies will age and die, that we’ll lose stuff, that we’ll break stuff, that we’ll hurt other people and other people will hurt us. But, as the Buddha points out, we often expect impermanent things to lead us to permanent happiness. And that’s just not how it works.
I’m as guilty as anyone—I forget. For the first two weeks of April I was SO READY to say goodbye to the senior class, and believe me, they seemed plenty ready to leave! Then I looked at the shrinking number of days on the calendar and realized that these creatures, who shape I know so well, who tolerate my earnestness and bad jokes, who trust me with their authentic selves and bring me smoothies and babysit for my child, were actually leaving. It knocked the wind out of me.
These are the terms of engagement, right? It’s only when we let others impact us, when we offer up our vulnerable, authentic selves, that they can impact us in such a way that it hurts when they go. You don’t get the joy of connection without the pain of separation. You don’t get to have awesome coworkers who teach and mentor you and improve your quality of life without it being really hard to see them move or leave or retire. Fall in love with someone? There’s a good chance they’ll hurt you someday. The real question, as Bolz-Weber so deftly points out, is—will you stay when they do?
We have a choice—disengage, minimize risk, and turtle ourselves in cautious isolation OR put our pads on and jump in the game, knowing that we’re opening ourselves up to tremendous pleasure and also real heartache. Though I have been tempted at certain times in my life to choose the former, I really don’t know how to live other than to do the latter. It’s messy, it’s complicated, but I wouldn’t trade it. Everything and everyone that I love best has been a risk, has pushed me to learn painful things about myself, has frustrated me, has taught me tough lessons. But they’ve also taught me everything I know about beauty and about love, about what a holy thing it is to live in such a way that we let the people in our lives mark us so—that we carry the history of our time with them, that it becomes part of who we are.
BAKING WITH SHIV:
The kid and I have been tackling one baking project per weekend, and it’s pretty damn fun. I highly recommend this post from Molly Wizenberg about cooking with kids; while I already shared her ethos, she offers some great, specific suggestions that I found really helpful and inspiring. Case in point: Shiv now knows how to crack an egg all by himself, a thing that I totally wouldn’t have thought he could do without making a big, giant mess. But I was wrong! And I’m so glad! Because competence is one of our core values for raising this human, and he feels like a badass every time he acquires a new skill. Another reminder that I should never underestimate this nugget.
[matching aprons courtesy Aunt Megan; yes, Shiv is wearing an Elsa wig, and please know that it was I who imitated his pose, and not the other way around.]
Here are yummy things we’ve made that we recommend:
Alice Medrich’s Tiger Cake [Food 52] — far & away everyone’s favorite, this one is a bit time-consuming but not at all difficult. Bonus: it calls for olive oil so you don’t have to remember to soften any butter! Note: we skipped the white pepper.
Oatmeal Cacao Nib Cookies [600 Acres] — these were quite good as well, and kept nicely in an airtight container on the counter for several days. If you don’t have cacao nibs, I’d substitute toasted walnuts or pecans.
Cardamom Apple Bread [Gluten-Free Girl] — as-written, this recipe is gluten-free, but we played around using the flours we had (a smidge of AP, white rice, spelt, & barley) and the texture of the bread still turned out wonderfully. It wasn’t quite sweet enough for Shiv’s taste, but once I swiped it with some apple butter, he was down. To me, it paired perfectly with tea!