Some of you may recall that before leaving Canada I relieved myself of most of my worldly possessions including my books. I can hear the collective gasp of the writers who grace my blogstep. Out they went, Neruda, Carol Shields, Henry James, Franzen, even Sedaris didn’t make the cut.
I took one book and one book alone, The Places That Scare You: A Guide To Fearlessness in Difficult Times by Pema Chödrön, a buddhist nun who teaches at a Tibetan Monastery in, of course, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. The reasons I kept this one for my current caper should be obvious.
Well today I wish I still had my Bonny with me. I’d race up to her like a chicken with my head cut off screaming, “get me Pema Chödrön on the phone right now. While you’re at it see where Karen Maezen Miller is and what the Dalai Lama’s up to because I have singlehandedly discovered the pathway to inner peace.”
But first let me tell you my Terms of Enlightenment. The answer came to me after a long period of… let’s call it reflection… that involved lounging in bed for half the day, then sitting in a chair for the other half followed by some quality time on the couch ending with a return to bed. It was exhausting.
I started with thinking about how I ended up here. About how I happened to find myself in a small town in France. How I wound up jobless, carless, bookless, hairless. Then I launched into pondering the future. What will become of me? What if I can’t ever speak French any better than I do today? What if I get really sick over here? What if I have nowhere to live come September? What if skinny jeans stay in style forever?
As usual I let my brain run on autopilot and propel me into a state of absolute paralysis. It was in this moment of self-generated mayhem that the meaning of life revealed itself to me. My husband passed me this:
Macarons. That famous French cookie, egg shell like crust with a delicate meringue texture followed by a layer of dark chocolate créme that would stop even the most rampant stream of consciousness. Look closer.
These are no ordinary macarons. They are beyond description. No words are able to capture their power. Come a little bit closer and take a deep breath. Smell the butter and cocoa?
I realized that every single decision I’ve ever made has led me to this moment, to these cookies. Today the past and future are not my business. There is only the now of macarons. I asked the macaron, “What the hell am I doing here?” The macaron said, “You think too much. Shut up and eat.”
Yum indeed. You can’t beat France for splendiferous culinary delights. Although at first I read Macaroni Maintenance and wondered if you were hankering after KD…an entirely different culinary delight.
Please send me some of that “inner peace” in the next mail. President’s Choice doesn’t do meringues like that and the sight of them has me salivating and agitated.
I’ll miss you the days you aren’t here but am so glad you will continue to write. What a gift!
Love Sue
That was brilliant writing and I might add, the best photos of those darn things! Yum!
Hey thanks, I actually took those pictures!
XO
B
Good news… I think skinny jeans are on the way OUT.
I saw lots of flared pants in a clothes catalogue I just received from one of the nicer department stores around here. Which means: eat as many macaroons as you want.
I’ve never had these so I’m thinking my entire life must be leading up to my visit to France this spring. . . or something less charming and most likely processed . . . like frozen chocolate fudge cake from Wal-Mart. Far less decadent but when I eat that I stop worrying about life. Until it’s all gone and I wonder if my pants will still fit.
Ladaisi Blog
Just letting you know I WAS here yesterday, but couldn’t leave a comment because of all the drooling (had to unplug and wetvac the keyboard).
Mmmm. . .chocolatey deliciousness . . .
You need to plan such a period of reflection every day for the rest of your life, in the hope of a similar result.
I am going to bookmark this post so I can keep stealing a peek at these photos, much like a porn addict.
Perfect timing — I happened to be reading this just as a friend and self-described lover of food porn walked by my screen.
What makes this so absolutely French to me is the fact that the baker obviously used some kind of star-shaped tip to apply the chocolate to the cookie, knowing that it would then be smushed and most likely obliterated by the other cookie anyway. But when a little bit peeks out it is très elegante.
“You think too much. Shut up and eat.”
Brilliant.
Zen and the Art of Macaron Management: My journey through pastry.
As simple and delicious as that. Love it!
You know what? You’re good.
The kids have all taken their turn poking their head around the corner to find out what the noise is emanating from my room.
Yes I am one of those lurkers, catching up on the back catalogue, finally come out to play. I had to…this post was hilarious!
I say go with your strengths and upgrade the internet connection. There seems to be a few english teaching businesses who run their sessions over the web(cam), or maybe a virtual couch?
When you find your income let me know. I have been doing battle with french lessons by podcast for 3 years now and I am crap…. I agree that Italian seemed much easier!