Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Resist Nothing

While cutting my way through tangled undergrowth, aided by a borrowed machete, and guided by intuition (along with random tea bag fortunes), solace is found in the smallest semblances of lifelines.

Referencing yesterday’s losing-all-composure post, I will say I was in need of a re-group after staving off a kitchen meltdown, only to flood the Archives with the emotional waters of vulnerability. Ask me on a good day and I’ll tell you that’s what the artist’s path is all about. Ask me when I’m feeling raw and you get the fisherman that’s reeling in (this metaphor explored more fully weeks ago).

This morning I’m working with the symbolism in lifelines and compass points. When I’ve gushed, seeped, flooded…cast that line waaaaay out there…what is it that pulls me back to center?

Yesterday it was a little kickback on the grass with Jeb after school. Watering my plants by the front door. I folded all the weekend laundry and even put it away. Small favors bestowed upon me, Jeb eats all his vegetables at dinner. His math test comes back with a 99%. Homework is completed without a hitch.

And after he falls asleep, I spend the evening in a little self-care. Comb conditioner through my hair. Fill a tub with hot water and Hawaiian salt to soak my feet. Rub my heels with Calendula salve. Soak my arms in Sandlewood oil.

When in doubt, start where you are. And there’s no where you occupy more than your own body. Once in a while, it’s good to have True North verified. My compass point pinged at salt, salve and a little TLC.

Oh yeah, and some reading material while my feet were soaking. The manual for the sophisticated Canon camera – another loan from the Bohemian. Far from my little hand-held point and shoot, this camera has a full-size bag just to store all its parts. A telephoto lens. More dials and symbols than I have ever seen.

Over the weekend he spent an hour pulling every battery pack and memory card into the light. Wiping down and cleaning every inch of the camera bag before zipping it up tight and presenting me with the chance to learn. I mean, this thing is the real deal. It’s like a camera camera.

So I study up. Read the Quick-Start Guide, the first two chapters and the Glossary of Terms. Wrap my salve-soaked feet in socks. Think about the safeguard setting of Auto-Focus. Consider experimentation with that telephoto lens.

Somewhere in there I heard the voice of Eckhart Tolle. I’ve been driving around with the audio book version of the “Power of Now”. Another attempt at some kind of lifeline.

He describes an experience just before he was enlightened. He felt like he was falling into a void of indescribable darkness. From somewhere inside he heard a prompting that said, “Resist nothing.” He surrendered. Experienced supreme bliss. Changed his life forever.

Motherhood, love, a new camera. I can feel intimidated by it all. Resistance looming at the threshold. Lifelines and compasses probably only offer token signs of safety. I have a hunch that “safe” is an illusion.

Resist nothing.

Ok. So what’s here in this ever-present powerful Now?

This morning’s breakfast and a school lunch to be made for Jeb.

The gift of a high-powered tool with fresh lenses, offering me a new way of seeing.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Following the Recipe

The recipe calls for coconut meat but I am suggesting alternatives.

The Bohemian listens, though he’s not convinced. Why not stick to the recipe when your house is surrounded by coconuts?

My hesitation comes from the fact that I am without the proper tool for harvest. Absurd as it is to be living in the tropics without it, I lack one sharp and sturdy machete. The Bohemian does not see this as a problem.

He surveys my cupboards, gathers alternate tools and heads confidently to the trees. I surrender and follow. Watch him husk the first nut in methodical precision with a kitchen knife (it was dull anyway).

While he skillfully pulls back husk layers, Jeb tries to crack open a younger nut with a hammer claw, his t-shirt soaked with fresh coconut water, his eyes alight with primal delight.

I leave them, briefly. Go double check the recipe. Return again to find four perfectly round coconuts, bare and waiting to be cracked.

The Bohemian laughs. “This is my first time opening a coconut with a hammer.”

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

I notice I’m hardly wary. Good god, I’ve almost nearly given up all skepticism of this man.

He proceeds thoughtfully, his deft hands offering the perfect taps to crack the shells.

We pour the sweet coco water into a jar and open the shells in half to reveal the thick, white meat. It’s the exactly what the recipe calls for.

Back in the kitchen, I’m thinking it’s just too hard to separate the meat from the shell. I try pressing the white to the grater but there are curves and shell and I make a pile of messy shavings.

The Bohemian sees my attempt and softly takes the chunk from my hand. He doesn’t bend the butter knife as he pops the meat from the shell in less than a minute. And in less than 10, we have a pile of freshly rinsed coconut meat, waiting to be grated. More than enough of what we need.

Mix complete, I’m tasting the blend that makes the pie crust. Walnuts, dates, coconut shavings and agave syrup. The coconut meat is clearly the key ingredient.

Jeb is dancing around the living room, high and happy on coconut water.

The Bohemian is sampling the crust from my spoon and smiling in approval.

I affirm, “I’m glad you persisted on the coconut meat. I was ready to give up because it all seemed too hard.”

He’s back to washing dishes, speaking toward the sponges. “Nothing’s too hard.”

Jeb tumbles in a flip from the end of my bed.

My mother’s gaze glances quickly to him, then sideways, to the back of the Bohemian, where he stands at the sink, rinsing.

I notice it again. Almost nearly…

I steady myself with Now. Take a breath. Put a chunk of coconut in my mouth so I can savor the flavor. Who knows when I’ll taste this again.

I silently chant my mantra of the present, as he says, “I’ve got at least three machetes, I should just leave one over here.”

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Random Breakfast Table Talk

Jeb:  “I believe in god.”

Me:  “Mmmm…”

Jeb:  “I can see it right now.”

Me:  “You can?”

Jeb:  “Yeah.”

Me:  “Will you show me?”

Jeb:  “Yeah.  You just look.”

courtesy of David Jager