Accepting What Is

Have you ever been lost? The kind of lost that works its way through your arms and legs and all the way to your core? Tightness grips its fingers around your heart and massages the pit of your stomach. This can be felt both when you’re physically lost or metaphorically lost. I’ve experienced both kinds…I’ve been lost in the wilderness, and I’ve been lost in life, especially when searching for love.

When I was in high school I went for a hike to an alpine lake with some boys I knew. Somewhere at the base of the mountain we unknowingly veered off the trail and continued for hours straight up a slippery, wet, leaf-strewn cliff. Eventually when we realized our mistake, it was too late. We were already cold, wet, and quite lost.

We wedged ourselves into the hillside underneath some large firs to eat our lunch. My fingers were so chilled I couldn’t even zip my coat. Fear and frustration were doing a tango in my head. But then one of the boys said… “You know…this is not exactly how we’d planned this hike, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now and there’s no one else I’d rather be with.” His musings jolted me out of my grumpy state.

Despite everything, we were actually having a good time (Not to mention I had a huge crush on one of the boys…). We were inhaling crisp mountain air, feeling the earth beneath our feet, and laughing and joking with each other.

Sliding and tumbling down the face of the mountain on our rear ends, we eventually found the trail that led back to our car. As if to affirm what I’d already learned that day, we saw a bumper sticker that said, “I’d rather be… right here.”

When I get myopically focused on a goal, destination, or dream, I remind myself of this hike and the bumper sticker. The Universe works in mysterious ways and sometimes our lives don’t fit into the neat and tidy packages we picture, and we don't always reach our destination. However, when we accept what is, often there’s even more magic. Had the boys and I stayed on the trail and made it to the lake, I have no doubt I would have forgotten the hike ages ago. Instead, I have fond memories of the adventure, and the experience showed me the value of finding joy in every moment. Plus, I’ve heard you feel the most alive when you’re lost.

This is true in love as well. Just like trying to reach the elusive mountain lake, sometimes we focus so much on the goal, that we miss the journey. It’s easy for me to get caught up in finding a man who fits a certain image. However, when I give up the need to find what’s perceived as right, then I open the door to allowing for what is actually right.

I have a friend who’s a devout Catholic who fell in love with a non-practicing Jew. She’d always imagined marrying a man with whom she could pray and who had an intimate relationship with God, but he was neither. This, she thought, was non-negotiable. She considered not dating this man, but her feelings for him continued to grow. They married a few years later and now have two beautiful children. Had she focused on the lack of religion in his life, she could have missed out on a lifetime of joy with him. Although her planned trajectory was jolted in a new direction, she found long-term happiness when she was willing to release her hold on her vision of the future.

As I’m stepping out of the cocoon I created for myself this past year and opening my heart to finding love, I’m also opening the door to the possibility that love may come in a different package than what I imagine. By being open to love, no matter what form it comes in, it’s possible to find something even better than what I could ever dream.

Whether your destination is a mountain lake or finding lasting love, remember to savor the journey and be willing to accept the things that don’t always fit with your vision, plan, dream, or goal.

                                                                           ***

                                                Acceptance Green Beans

This Thanksgiving, consider accepting what is…If Great Aunt Maude ruffles your feathers or your husband and father-in-law argue over the correct way to cook the turkey, take a deep breath and let it wash over you. You may find that when you look back on your life, these are the moments you cherish most, not the perfectly laid table or whether or not you dusted every nook and cranny before your guests arrived.

This is a simple side dish that’s always a holiday favorite in our home. 

Serves 4

3 Tbsp. olive oil
3 large shallots, thinly sliced
1 ample Tbsp. of orange zest
1 lb. green beans, trimmed
1/3 cup roasted slivered almonds
3 Tbsp. fresh orange juice (from zested orange)
Himalayan pink salt, to taste (or other high quality salt)
Fresh cracked pepper, to taste

In a large frying pan, sauté the shallots and orange zest in the olive oil over medium heat. Add a pinch of salt and pepper. Sauté until the shallots are soft and translucent and slightly caramelized, approximately 10 minutes. Adjust the temperature as needed to keep the shallots from browning too quickly. Meanwhile, wash and trim the green beans. Add them to the pan and increase the heat a smidge. Using a spatula, toss the beans constantly to keep the shallots from burning. When the green beans are soft, turn off the heat, about 5 minutes. Toss with the slivered almonds and another pinch of salt and pepper. Just before serving, drizzle the fresh orange juice over the beans. This will add a bright note to the dish.

 

Feel Your Dreams

A bubble I blew on a sunny afternoon a few days ago that feels dreamlike to me

This morning I spent an hour on the phone with Verizon Wireless to undo an erroneous charge.

Although this was not how I planned to start my day, it helped me realize something about my approach to my life. As I dialed Verizon, I asked myself, “What do I want?” Once my intention was clear, I was able to pursue it with determination. Yet, I wasn’t attached to the outcome, which kept me calm and focused. I wanted my account credited, but I knew I’d be okay if it didn’t happen. After talking to four different people, however, I eventually got it.

While on hold and listening to elevator music, I started to think about how I’m more effective at manifesting smaller desires (like the Verizon credit) than I am with my bigger dreams. For instance, since I was a little girl I’ve imagined getting married and having a family, but that dream has yet to come to fruition. Although it’s a very real dream, my intention is not as razor sharp as it was with Verizon. I’m also quite attached to the outcome, which can impede me from being objective and at peace with whatever happens.

As much as I’ve yearned to have a family, this dream has always felt distant. I say that I want to fall in love and I picture going to the park with future children, but it feels like make-believe. I’ve always thought it would happen someday, but believing and feeling are quite different. When I called Verizon today, I knew what it would feel like to get my desired result, which helped me manifest it. However, having never been in the kind of relationship I envision, I find it challenging to set my intention as keenly as it needs to be.

My cat Calliope meditating on her future dreams

I’ve known for years that one of the most effective ways to bring more love, abundance, success (whatever it is you desire) into your life is to truly feel what it feels like to be and have those things. For instance, if you want to be more prosperous, donate to charity, volunteer your time, and treat yourself to something special. In other words, do things that make you feel abundant, and abundance will begin to flood your life. Unfortunately, I’ve had difficulty feeling the relationship of my dreams. I’ve had an inkling for awhile that this was preventing me from manifesting love, but a blind date a few weeks ago changed that.

The man I met for the blind date far exceeded my expectations in every possible way. There are a few things in his life that don’t necessarily fit into my neat and tidy “wish list” for my perfect relationship, but part of my journey this year is releasing attachment to having one fixed vision of my life and instead allowing new versions of my dreams to be realized, which who knows…might lead to something even better than originally imagined!

Meeting this man finally allowed me to feel my dream. After multitudes of fizzled dates and short-lived relationships, I’d started to think that perhaps the kind of relationship I sought just wasn’t in the cards for me. A number of months ago, I began the process of reconfiguring my dream and even started considering alternative ways of having children. Meeting this attractive man, however, who’s strong and successful yet kind and thoughtful, made me believe that my future is possible. Perhaps this man came into my life for this express purpose, or perhaps our acquaintance will grow into something more. That story is yet to be written. Regardless, he’s changed my life in a powerful way.

Whatever your dreams—a refund on your cellular data plan, finding the love of your life, or something all together different—set your intention, release attachment to the outcome, and feel it with all your might. My mom calls this “act as if.” Act as if your future is already a reality and believe it or not, once you truly feel your dreams, they do indeed come true.

Squash growing in my garden last summer (on the left)

Courgettes à l’Estragon 

(Zucchini with Tarragon)

Food can be a potent ally when “acting as if.” If you want to be more abundant, for example, create a dinner party and fill the buffet with an abundance of dishes or dine on elegant and refined foods that represent a wealthy lifestyle. Or, if the wind is whipping and the rain is pounding, crank up the heat, put on your flip-flops and eat summer foods. Instantly, you’ll begin to feel the joy of summer’s long days and languid afternoons.

Last weekend, we were having an intense rainstorm, so I grabbed some zucchini and roasted it with tarragon and pretended it was midsummer and my garden was overflowing with summer squash. I made enough to have leftovers, but I ended up eating it all!

Serves 2-4

4 zucchini (1½ to 2 lbs.), cut into 2 in. sticks
2 Tbsp. French tarragon, rough chopped
2 shallots, sliced
4 tsp. olive oil
salt (such as Himalayan pink or coarse French sea salt)

Preheat oven to 350ºF. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Wash and cut the zucchini and put on the baking sheet. Combine with the tarragon and shallots. Drizzle the olive oil over the zucchini and sprinkle with salt. Toss together to evenly distribute the olive oil. This is easiest done with your (clean) hands. Bake for approximately 1 hour.

Amazing Ain’t Always Amazing

Amazing Ain’t Always Amazing

I’ve had the fairytale romance. Foie gras from Fauchon. Elegant French chocolate. The most stunning and sophisticated bouquet of flowers I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I was just not in love with the man who gave them to me.

Have you ever bitten into a shiny and perfect Red Delicious apple only to find that the inside is mushy and tasteless? Or perhaps you’ve fallen victim to a picture-perfect gourmet meal that left you feeling hungry and unsatisfied.

After years of dating and tasting from many menus, I’ve come to realize that the ideal relationship (if there is such a thing) doesn’t always come in the perfect package. Perhaps it wasn’t for nothing that my mom occasionally called me Snow White when I was a little girl (although as a blonde child, Rapunzel or Cinderella would have been more logical, but I think it had to do with my fair skin). Snow White was enticed by the perfection of the red apple offered by the witch but found it was not what she had hoped. Yet, without eating the apple and going through what some might call a “rough patch,” she may never have met her Prince.

When I first met Jon I was living in Paris and studying French Cultural Studies at the Columbia University campus in the Latin Quarter. He was living in London and working in business. (It already sounds like a fairytale, don’t you think?) Mutual friends threw a Thanksgiving dinner at their flat in London and invited all their Ex-Pat friends. A bit homesick, I decided to hop on the “Chunnel” train and join my friends for the holiday. Jon and I only spoke a few times that evening, and I didn’t think about him again for many months.

Later that year, gearing up to take the Eurostar to London again, this time for a friend’s wedding near Hampstead Heath, I toyed with the idea of contacting the friendly guy I’d met at Thanksgiving. This, however, was short lived since I couldn’t remember his name. But Fate has a way of intervening... Shortly thereafter, I received an e-mail from Jon (Oh, yes. That was his name!) who was looking for a language school in Paris. When his contract ended in London, he planned to spend the summer in Paris studying French before heading to Harvard Business School in the fall (what a fairytale, huh?). I wrote back and told him about my upcoming trip across the Channel.

Other guys might suggest meeting at the pub or perhaps a coffee shop in Covent Garden. Jon, however, was not like most men. He took me to the Savoy Hotel for high tea and dancing. (Starting to get the picture?) We ate cucumber sandwiches, drank Earl Grey, and did our best not to embarrass ourselves dancing. While the string quartet played, elegant and refined British couples glided across the dance floor, and I put more clotted cream and strawberry jam on my scone.

A month or two later, Jon moved to Paris. And thus begins our summer romance worthy of a Nicolas Sparks novel; however, we did not have the happily-ever-after ending of fairytales and romance novels. The summer of 2001 was an odyssey filled with amazing meals and romantic getaways, yet not without some ambivalence (from me…he knew what he wanted).

For our first official date, Jon told me to be prepared to be gone all day. Having no idea where we were going or what we were doing, I fretted with my roommate over what to wear but finally settled on something casual. Jon arrived at 9 am…in a car! I hadn’t ridden in a car in months (except for the taxis my parents insisted on subsidizing to keep me from walking home from clubs late at night). With handwritten directions neatly folded in his left hand, Jon adroitly maneuvered the rental car out of the city and onto the autoroute.

A few hours later we arrived in the beautiful Loire Valley. We picked up provisions at a local market and then made our way to Château de Chambord while belting out the words to one of my favorite French songs, “Cette Année Là,” which has the same tune as “Oh, What a Night.” (If you grew up in the 80s and 90s as I did, you know what I’m talking about. It was a favorite at slumber parties and on roadtrips with girlfriends.) Not only did Jon have this song on a mix CD, he knew the words! “Je chantais pour la première fois…” Although I still didn’t feel a strong attraction to Jon despite the amazingness of the day, I thought that perhaps I could fall in love with him if I gave it enough time. Who but a prince surprises you with a trip to a castle AND likes the same music?!

On a patch of lawn next to a meandering creek on the castle grounds, we laid out our picnic: fresh baguette, aromatic cheese, sausage, and a crisp French rosé wine. When we toured Chambord, one of the largest and most impressive of the Loire Valley Châteaux, I had the ever-so-unsexy idea of spitting into the courtyard from the balcony. I don’t know what possessed me to suggest such a thing, but Jon wasn’t deterred and joined in my vulgarity. (This I’m afraid would quickly have been edited from a Nicolas Sparks novel, and Disney fairytales are too squeaky-clean for spitting, but this is my fairytale and unfortunately, mine involves hocking loogies.)

After touring a number of other châteaux and enjoying a delicious dinner in the town of Amboise, we returned to Paris at 2 am and Jon kissed me goodnight at the door to my 7th floor walk-up apartment. The longest (and arguably most romantic) first date on record came to a close, and I mounted the stairs with a combination of giddy excitement, fatigue, and confusion. Kissing Jon in the wee hours of the night on a dark street in Paris was thrilling, yet I was still uncertain, and I worried about my lack of affection for this Lancelot. I hoped my feelings for Jon would continue to grow because who doesn’t want to live out a real-life fairytale love affair in Paris!

As the days grew longer, we strolled the streets of Paris hand in hand, watched the sunset while lounging in the Luxembourg Gardens, went hiking in the Fontainbleau forest much loved by the French Romantic poets, dined in classic bistros, and ate coucous and chicken side-by-side in my tiny apartment. We did crossword puzzles in the Bois de Bologna, watched the Bastille Day fireworks from underneath the Eiffel Tower (though in retrospect I think metaphorical fireworks are much more romantic), and admired the City of Lights from the deck of a riverboat. On a hot and sticky summer day, we ate popsicles before entering the Catacombs but once inside, wished we’d stayed in the sun away from the piles of forlorn bones.

Except for the bones, it sounds pretty amazing, doesn’t it? It was…and it wasn’t. Mario Cuomo once said, "You know, if the moment is right, the candles are just right and the drink is just right and the music is just right and you're just right and she's just right, and you lean over and touch her hand, it's magic. If the moment is wrong, it's your clammy hand on the back of her sweaty hand, and it doesn't work." Our relationship had the potential to be magnificent and on the outside it was, but you can’t make yourself love someone, even if he’s really nice, does everything just right, and takes you to beautiful places. Can you? I was going to try.

One weekend, Jon and I went to Normandy for a rain-filled romantic getaway. We explored the chalk cliffs and imagined seeing the Allies storming the beach. We ate pungent Camembert in the car, admired the beautiful jewelry in boutiques in Deauville and Trouville, agreed that Calvados was disgusting, and devoured raw seafood in Honfleur. Until I met Jon I had reviled raw oysters but under his tutelage, I learned to love them, and now they rank among my all-time favorite foods. From him, I learned many things and had some of the most amazing experiences of my life. For that, I am eternally grateful.

To celebrate the completion of my master’s thesis, Jon took me to Les Ambassadeurs, a restaurant in the heart of Paris with two Michelin stars. My menu didn’t even have prices! On our way home that evening, we stopped at the Roue de Paris in the Tuileries gardens. From the top of the massive Ferris wheel, we admired the illuminated monuments below. Can you get any more romantic?

Love unfortunately has to be a two-way street, even in Paris. No matter how hard I tried and how much I willed myself to fall for him, I just wasn’t in love. Unfortunately, love doesn’t always make sense and despite how much I liked and admired Jon, I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings. (What was wrong with me?) When Jon said, “I love you”… I couldn’t say it back. After a long pause I said, “Thank you.” (I know…I’m one of them, the ones who can’t say “I love you”! But on the other hand, it doesn’t seem fair to say it if it’s not true.)

A few years later, I did fall in love. This man was very different from Jon. If Jon was the gourmet meal (or the ruby red apple), Aidan was fish tacos from a street vendor in Baja or a good bowl of hearty stew on a cold day. Our relationship wasn’t particularly romantic and it certainly wasn’t elegant, but somehow it worked. But that’s a story for another day…

So, I’ve eaten from the perfect apple, and I’ve had experiences that have forever changed me. Like Snow White, if I wait long enough (preferably not in a deep sleep), will my prince come? I think he might be on his way…we have a date Sunday.

Recipe for a Romantic Picnic

(preferably with someone you’re madly in love with or at least think that you might one day fall for…)

Ingredients:

1 Beautiful blanket
(I’m a fan of Provençal patterns—the guy won’t give a hoot what kind of blanket you choose because he’ll be looking at you, but I always like to set a beautiful table even if no one notices. Ambiance and presentation make the food taste better.)
1 Picnic basket
(The more retro, the better. If you can get your hands on the kind that Yogi Bear would steal from unsuspecting campers in the Saturday morning cartoon, even better! Once again, the guy won’t care, but it will help set the scene. Plus, when you use the pictures of the picnic in the photo-montage at your wedding, it will look really authentic!)
2 Plates
(I prefer using ceramic, glass, or sturdy plastic instead of paper plates. You’ll be helping the environment and when you try to cut something on the plate, it won’t fold in half or break in two.)
1 Sharp knife for cutting meat and cheese
(This way you’ll have to share…)
2 Wine glasses
(If you’re concerned about the glass breaking, there are great non-breakable acrylic wine glasses available at places like Target.)
1 Bottle of wine
(I especially like chilled, crisp dry French rosé for picnics, but anything you like is a good choice. If it’s a hot day, you might consider Sauvignon Blanc or Viognier or if you prefer red, try Pinot Noir. Added bonus: If you get a bit buzzed, the kiss might come sooner!)
1 Fresh French baguette
An assortment of cured meats
(Salami, Prosciutto, Serrano ham, sausage, ham, etc. If you don’t eat red meat, try smoked salmon.)
An assortment of cheeses
(Brie, Camembert, Gorgonzola, Blue, Chèvre, Parmesan, etc. There are far too many to choose from.)
Olives
(Mmm…Who doesn’t love a good olive?!)
Vegetables
(Carrot sticks, cucumber slices, cherry tomatoes…there are far too many to list. This will make you feel a bit healthier after all the cheese and salami.)
Fruit
(Choose something seasonal and sexy. Strawberries can be fed to one another, and pomegranates are fun and messy to eat but also kind of erotic. Grapes and fresh figs are also great choices. I will never turn down sweet cherries, and pears and apples go well with cheese.)
Sweets
(If I have any male readers who might be planning this picnic for me or for their own true love, do not forget the chocolate. Women love chocolate. I think dark chocolate is more romantic, but that’s just me…)
1 String Quartet
(This is optional, of course!)

•Mario Cuomo quotation from a 1990 interview in American Heritage