Thursday, March 17, 2011

chocolate chemistry

In my early 20s, I was a chemist. Oh, yes. I have liberated myself from the laboratory, but those days of precise analysis and exacting measurements definitely changed me. I learned how to keep immaculate journals, documenting each step and reasoning behind every move. Precision, precision, statistical analysis, reproducible results.... such a completely different way of being than my life now. One day, on my drive home from the lab, I was listening to Modest Mouse and suddenly realized what my spirit was saying, what I truly believed in and what was important for me to live for. I came home and told my boyfriend that I wasn't going back to work.... ever. The next morning I sent the simplest letter of resignation:

In order to live true to my spirit, I can no longer continue to work for your company.

Well, there were four sentences actually, but that's the only one I remember. My boyfriend asked me what I was going to do. What a moment! Joy and excitement filled me as I finally asked myself the question: what do I want to do?

I wanted to work with children and spend my time walking in the woods.

By the end of the day I had 2 jobs: leading an after school program for inner-city elementary students; and teaching soccer. I worked afternoons and evenings and had the rest of my time to wander the forests gaining inspiration and reconnecting with all of life. I knew that following my heart, the voice of my spirit, would always be the right path and that doors will always open.

This guiding impulse has led me on quite the journey for the past (almost) 9 years. I have been all over the country doing so many diverse things. I could write books about my travels. (I hope to someday)

For now, I practice my chemistry in the kitchen. Except, I don't follow any recipes. I don't measure anything. I never make the same thing twice. Each creation is an adventure which dinner guests are brave to embark upon with me. Always intuitively and unscientifically experimenting; without documentation. And when something amazing comes from it, there is the joy of holding that moment. And that moment is the only one. For, just like all other experiences in life, it cannot be re-created or duplicated or held in a photograph or recipe card. It just is. So I try to savor it and chew slowly. I watch the eyes of those tasting the moment with me. I drink it all in and nourish my body with the complete magic of it all.

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