Caught in the moment

Dear readers, this week I had the pleasure to guest post for The Coffee Shop Chronicles over at Paisley Rain Boots, a blog run by my dear mother. You can find the post here, or enjoy it below. 

A hum of chatter fills the room. Every open space is filled with the voice of one or another. 

There are the three in the corner, opposite the one in which I have taken up residency. College students tucked into the l-shaped booth: one boy, two girls. They are done with the days demands of class. They are out, making their rounds on this blustery day where the temperature reads in the single digits. I overhear the next stop being the local brewery, less than a block from the coffee shop. Only college students would move from coffee shop to brewery. 

Then there are the pairs. 

The two girls, in their early twenties, deep in conversation. Their large ceramic mugs out in front of them: emptied. They never intended to stay this long. They have spent the last hour telling one story after another, playing catch up after last weeks mid-semester break. They've taken this time, this hour, to pull away from the textbooks full of terms, the research papers waiting to be typed, and the exam that needs prepping for to connect and reconnect. 

The second pair. Two men. Their lives are an open avenue. College degrees under their belt, but unsure of which path to take. Scared and not ready to leave the comforts of this college town. Not ready to say farewell to the great lake, ski hills, nights out on the town, and even the ten a.m classes. For now they sit, coffee in front of them, and push away the unknown of reality. 

Only three voices remain silent. 

One. He has been there for hours, bent over his laptop and on his fourth cup of coffee. He is writing, or rather typing, with a few select books open on the table before him. A graduate student nearing the end, working to perfect this thesis paper. He, too, like the pair of men is feeling the pressures of the open avenue of life that lies ahead of him. But, for now, the thesis paper is his focus. 

Two. Another man. A cup of soup in a to-go cup in front of him, though he doesn't seem to be going anywhere. His cup of water still full rests beside him. He seems to be breathing in the moment; taking a moment to sit, eat, and think about this game of life we are all players in.

And last, me. I'm tucked in the corner table, alongside the big front window. I find myself surrounded by papers filled with scrawled handwriting: words of story and thought. Wondering which words to use and which ones to save for another time. Boots off, chai latte long gone, and The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis open to his piece on "Learning in War-Time". I'm caught in the moment.

The coffee shop: a place for conversation and growth, learning and discovering. A place to think, to write, and simply, a place to sit. A place to delight in and rejoice in. A place to be in the moment. As C.S. Lewis once said, "Never . . . commit your virtue or your happiness to the future"; rather, rejoice in the happiness of the moment you are in.

Let's crave together like we crave chocolate

Home was a place she missed. There were days where the missing was a surface level feeling and other days it was a deep pit that could not be filled. Being far away in a vast city with coffee shops on every street corner was thrilling, exciting even, but there was a but.
That but was a bit that embodied a need to be with someone. Not in a "significant other" sense, rather, quite simply, a someone whose presence created company.

She had no "other" to accompany her to the street corner coffee shop. She would go alone, and alone is good for some time, but alone added up to loneliness. Her routine was the same: chai latte, skim milk, corner table. She hid the loneliness with laptop plugged in or book pulled out with pencil and notebook alongside.

She would watch. People came in, out, they stayed, they sat, they left. There were the young with young, the young and the old, and the old with the old. There were the couples: hand holding, conversation building, latte sharing couples that made her dream and gag all at once. There were the mothers wheeling their stroller bound children in, or clinging to their hand to make sure they did not wander away.

They were all together.

She craved together like she craved chocolate. She had a desire for someone to chat with and an even deeper desire to be with someone, simply to listen to them. To listen to their story of life. It had been some time since she did that: listen to someone. Each time she found herself together with someone, though rare, they wanted to hear about her; her house, her job, her this and her that. She was done, done talking about her. She craved a moment of togetherness, to sit with a steaming latte between her and someone else and listen.

//

Life is a story of not one, but many. Life is a simple, yet vastly overcomplicated story, woven together with a few pieces of thread. We are all living a story; yes, with different characters, different moments of climax, and different endings, but we all share the common bond of story.

It is a story where we crave togetherness. A good story, the ones we love to read, to hear are made up of more than just a party for one. We need one another. We need to talk, we need to listen. Life is beautiful. And our stories are best lived, best shared with one another. So lets crave together like we crave chocolate.

Dear child, it is time to

Learn.

Time to learn how to kick those feet and move those arms. Growing up next to a big lake means you must learn, and child it is time to learn how to swim. No mother is going to let their child lose in rough waters if they do not understand the concept of how to stay afloat. If you cannot swim, you drown, so it is time you learn to swim.

I will go with you, show you the motions. Hold you tight at first, but overtime my grip will loosen and I will not cling so tight. Child, if you want to go out into the world you have to know how to swim. There are rough waters out there and you have to be ready to face them. You have to know how to keep afloat or else, you drown.

It sounds simple, and in theory it is. But life, my child is one big complicated, unknown, uncertain sea we are all trying to navigate. I will not always be there to hold you tight, but I will always be on the shore encouraging you along. Child, you have to learn to swim on your own. You will get the movements down over time; soon it will become second nature. Practice you must, but once you know how you always will, just like the time you learned how to ride a bike.

You will fail. It is a part of the process. There will be times you will feel like you are drowning and you may be. Then remember all you must do is kick your feet and move your arms. With those movements you will stop drowning and move forward onto greater shores and big waters.

It is time, my child, to learn how to swim. Time to learn how to navigate.

like pussy willows, you are enough

Flowers are enough.

"It was early spring and there was nothing my friend could find for his grandmother but a few sprigs of pussy willow. As he gave them to her, minutes before she died, she pressed them to her face and whispered, 'They're grand, my love. And enough'".  -from The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis, unearthed in the introduction by Walter Hooper.

It wasn't about the gift of the flowers, no for grandmother it was the thought behind the gift. In the final moments of the her life she desired not something of grandeur, not a gold ring, but rather the simple act of love her grandson showed by bringing her flowers. 

The flowers were enough for her. 

And they should be enough for all of us.

The world will shout out you are not enough. People will tell you, grades, reviews, and the paycheck will show you that you are not enough. We all feel like we fall short, each day. But we have to pull away from being not enough and come to embrace that we are. We are enough, we are like those pussy willows to the grandmother. We are enough. 

Yes, we are broken there is no denying that. We are humans. We've been broken from the moment Eve ate the fruit in the garden, but we cannot dwell in the brokenness. 

We are enough. Enough for the world, for ourselves, and for the Creator. 

Moving forward in the day, weeks, and months ahead pull away from not enough. Take a moment to read this. Take a friend out to dinner, invite them over for tea for the simple reason of just because. Love people. Love yourself. And remember you are like those pussy willows to the grandmother, enough. 

Spinach-Pesto Pasta with Mushrooms and Ricotta

It is that time of year. Caught inside as the winds whip outside, dropping the temperature to an arctic chill that reads below zero. 

Yesterday, stuck inside I tried my hand at a new food creation: spinach-pesto. 

I watched a the food processor's blades turned with each push of the pulse button. Combining the garlic with the spinach and the spinach with the basil; the basil with the parmesan cheese followed with a dash of olive oil and lemon juice, and a pinch of salt to top it off.

The final pulse left me with a smooth combination of pesto, with a slight overpowering aroma of garlic. 

For those of you who find yourselves caught inside while the winter winds blow step into the kitchen, search Pinterest, and try your hand at a new food creation (maybe even this spinach-pesto).

Spinach-Pesto

[need] 

1 clove garlic

1/4 cup fresh basil (I used dried basil, but would recommend fresh)

1 cup fresh packed baby spinach

1/4 cup parmesan cheese (with a sprinkle more, who doesn't love cheese?)

2 tablespoons olive oil 

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

[create]

First, mince the clove of garlic and place in food processor. Add the remaining ingredients and pulse into well combined. Taste, and tailor as needed. I found myself adding more spinach and cheese. Remove from food processor and place in jar. Refrigerate. 

Now what to do with the pesto? I combined it with pasta. Try out this recipe below. 

Spinach-Pesto Pasta with Mushrooms and Ricotta 

[need] 

Freshly made spinach-pesto

8 oz whole wheat pasta 

1/3 cup ricotta cheese 

Mushrooms (desired amount)

[create] 

First, sauté mushrooms in olive oil. Next bring a pot of water to a boil. Once the water is boiling cook the pasta as directed on packaging. Drain pasta. Place desired amount of pasta in a bowl, add a spoonful of the pesto. Next add ricotta cheese and top with mushrooms. Mix together. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately. 

[both recipes adopted from Naturally Ella]

silence & you

I've been thinking. Thinking about silence.
I find myself comfortable with it. The introverted bit of me craves it. I have sat in rooms with people who are the opposite, who feel the desire to fill the silence with mindless chatter. Sometimes, in those moments with those people, I, to be quite frank want to say shut up would you. Yet, I have a bigger mind than mouth when it comes to speaking my thoughts, which is good.
But what's so wrong with silence?

It allows you to sit with YOU.

Sitting with yourself, a scary thought because in that moment you have to face yourself.

photographer: stellan herner

Sometimes I sit on the couch or at the kitchen table and simply be. And in that moment I am doing nothing, literally nothing. I stare at the wall. The wall I tell you. Who sits and stares at the wall?

We all have things to do, places to be, and people to call. We have so much to do. Guilt creeps in when we find ourselves sitting and doing nothing. Guilt is beside me when it is just me and the open room. Guilt for what I should be doing and who I should be.

Sit. Alone in a room. Who does that?

But you want to know a secret. We have to do that. We are human beings so plugged into the world, so overwhelmed with lists that are pages in length. Overwhelmed by the cluttered agenda book filled with places to be and people to attend to. The list of to-do's will only continue increase in length.
It is time to stop and stare, to sit there. Yes, sit there my friend. It will serve you well.

We have to be comfortable with ourselves in an open room. We have to, how else are we going to know who we are? Be comfortable in who we are? We have to overcome the guilt we feel and the only way to do that is to face it.

We have to be comfortable with ourselves in a silent room.

For a moment forget the people, the places, and sit. Disconnect from the chaos, and connect with yourself. You have to, for you.