Because a life unexamined is lived without intention.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
A strange summer, this year. The heat seems almost a physical threat; its blistered fingers wrapping about my throat with crushing force. An igneous embrace complete with stale, febrile breath, as if Mother Nature has finally burned out in a most literal sense. The scorch is wearing indeed, I now dream of rain and long cool baths (instead of aliens beneath the floorboards and vampiric neighbors, perhaps this is an improvement, yes?) I fear the tempers of the entire nation are on edge--the complaining, whining, and groaning reaches a nearly audible peak by late afternoon, even the residential pool has begun to evaporate as whimpering children look on. While this is somewhat predictable, what I have been surprised to observe, is a seeming landslide of irrational and risky behavior as well, choices that defy all intelligent reason, absurd sophomoric recklessness.
Is it a fever? Have the calescent fumes incinerated that part of the brain that pauses....calculating the depth of the water, before plunging off? I've found myself on several occasions with my mouth hanging open in shock, stunned into speechlessness. Flirtation with affairs and unemployment and bankruptcy. Negligent and mindless treatment of the major life stabilizers--those pillars that corner the foundation one lives upon. Not just careless driving, but damn near propositioning disaster--naked, down on one knee.
I have argued, I have warned, I have begged...and in then end, I frankly have been enraged by the simple selfishness that seems rampantly out of control. Please don't misunderstand, I can be queen of Land Selfish from time to time, we all battle our self-preserving flesh on a fairly regular basis, but I try....isn't that the key? Trying? I keep in mind, my pie. Yes, you read that right.
I have a theory about a pie.
Pie me. Me, the pie. I'm not particularly concerned about the flavor of such a concoction, but of the pieces contained within. For you see, I am not just Chantel. Being Chantel would be easy. (now that I think about it, perhaps coconut would be a good match...ahem) Being only Chantel would liberate me to eat and think and prioritize based purely on the tastes and whims that catch my capacious fancy! Ambrosial--but fairly unsustaining in the long run. This pie has other pieces. Sawyer's mother. Brennan and Noah's mother. Also in this pastry of delights resides Jason's wife, Don and Sandra's daughter, and a sister or two. But it doesn't end there. Smaller slices, mind you, but still substantial with crust and cream filling, are the Douglas and Duffy and Dieck's neighbor, Agnes' best friend, the Man Cave/crash pad Manager, and don't forget the annual Soup Party Chef.
When I choose. When I decide. When I risk. I am risking them all.
I am indeed Chantel--lover, painter, author and chef.....but my life is shared with many. We all are blessed to live in a world of immense choice. Every day the menu of life seems to grow larger. Beyond appetizers and mains and desserts, I swear we're in the process of creating cocktails and bites and nibbles. Choices topped with frosting and sprinkles. What we can do with our time and money and freedom is nearly endless, but it is imperative such is done with clarity. Consideration. There are moments when sacrifice is essential. When self-control may divide heaven from hell. Where ever you go, whatever you do....