curve ball . . .
Sometimes when you’re tootling along, life throws you a curve ball and it makes you stop in your tracks. That happened to me yesterday and I was momentarily disoriented. I’ve been reading lots of stuff by people like Byron Katie who has a process called “the work” posing a number of questions you’re supposed to ask yourself about an idea or thought you have, like “is it true,” and “is it really true?”
Well, I didn’t have to think long and hard about those questions which are meant to illustrate to the questioner that what you think might be true is actually nothing but a projection on your part and that what you’re upset about doesn’t really exist. That’s handy some of the time because I do agree that we go around projecting a lot, manifesting our hopes and frustrations in ways that fool us into thinking we’re upset about one thing when it’s actually ourselves we’re upset at.
But it’s not always the case either. There have been times when I’ve felt like giving up a struggle or two because it’s not my job, necessarily, to try to tie things up in a nice bow with the people in my life. That’s the Uber-project manager in me, striving to make sure that there’s enough time and opportunity to allow for the most positive outcome in one’s family before it’s too late.
Of course, saying “it’s too late” is just an easier way of saying “before we die.”. And it seems most people may not care about that and at least, are too busy living their lives right now to think about anything else. So, maybe it would be a good idea to just live my life and enjoy each day instead.
My canary is singing his head off these days and it’s really sweet to hear him splashing away in his water cup, taking a refreshing break from just sitting around in his cage. It’s almost the end of April and it feels like a good day to “break out the barbie” as they like to say in Australia.
So, I went out on the back deck and cleaned off the grate of our cast iron hibachi (I don’t believe in gas grills which feel to me like we’ve just moved the stove outside and turned on the gas.) Wood-smoked charcoal, slowly turning grey as it heats up is what grilling means to me. So tonight, we’ll christen the grill with marinated, boned chicken thighs which cook evenly and more quickly than those that still have the bone in.
I’m impressed with Bobby Flay’s cookbooks like “Grill It” and look forward to using some of his marinades that are a littler more piquant than what we’re used to, using chilis and fresh lime juice. After grilling the chicken tonight, might also look for a recipe for grilling a nice piece of flank steak that I brought home from the grocery store today.
Anyhow, grounding oneself in mundane things like what to cook for dinner and looking forward to making a charcoal fire in the hibachi is a good way to counteract curve balls that land in one’s lap. I’m not doing it – that is, obsessing about it (“is it true?”) or anything like that.
Just cutting a handful of daffodils and budding twigs from our weeping cherry tree to enjoy indoors and to share with George’s family across the street.