I am pretty well exhausted and it is only noon. I woke up at 4:45 this morning wide-eyed and panicked. Suddenly I realized that Passover is next week and I haven't bought a thing for it. What was I waiting for? I went upstairs to my study as I always do, turned on the coffee machine, gave Oscar and Mimi their treats, and sat down to check in with my sister on What's App. to see if she had sent me Day 15 of Deepak Chopra's 21 day challenge of "Abundance." Somehow I felt that I had better meditate. Something seemed to be bubbling up, cooking, ready to boil over or explode in my brain. "I need to make charoset!" I screamed inside my head. Not to mention that it would be just Tom and I for the festive Seder next Wednesday night. But, we will be zooming in with friends, who live about seven blocks away. Frenziedly I rummaged through my drawers searching for the recipe of charoset that my father's wife, my step-mother, used to make. I couldn't just make do with a little grated apple, walnuts and cinnamon maybe. No. Not this morning. I needed - had to have - the recipe that calls for ground almonds, pitted dates, white wine vinegar that need to be soaked overnight and pulverized in a blender to just the right consistency. A recipe from Rhodes Island (Greece) - my father's old country. Somewhere in the night through troubled sleep and vivid dreams, my brain pulled up this desperate need for that specific sephardic, charoset recipe.
After I found three different variations of the same recipe - each written to me decades ago by a different family member - I started to try and find ingredients online at different grocery stores. Wanting them to deliver it because of COVID and my being 70 and all, I discovered to my dismay that many didn't deliver, or didn't have delivery slots left for days, or did not have some of the ingredients in stock or ... on and on, until finally, yes indeed: I began to panic. By 7:30 a.m. I was in melt-down mode. Everything held silently within, I raced downstairs, fed the cats and then climbed back up to the bathroom for a very hasty shower. While I was pulling on my clothes, Tom said, "Where are you going?" "Out to buy food for Passover!" I exclaimed. "Can I come with you?" he asked softly. "Well ... yes," I replied, "But I am leaving right now - I have no time to wait. So if you want to come with it has to be now. Plus, I am in a panic and can't calm down. So, if you can handle that, come along with me, otherwise, you had better stay home!" As I bolted for the door, I noticed that Tom was quietly walking behind me. He joined me in the passenger seat of my car with a cup of coffee in his hand. He was quiet, solid, present.
As I started to drive out the garage and down the driveway toward the street, tears began to stream down my cheeks. "I am in a panic," I said and began to breathe deeply. As I wept, Tom sat quietly next to me until we reached the supermarket. We pulled on gloves and face masks, and headed into the store. As I rolled the cart from half empty aisle to another, I found every single thing I needed - and then some. The woman at the checkout counter greeted me cheerily. She started to pull on gloves saying how much she hated using them. I said, "Put them away. I'm sure your hands are clean." She thanked me profusely and we beamed at each other. Tom still quietly present, bagged up the trillions of items I had procured for the uncertain future that lay ahead.
As we drove away I started to laugh out loud. "Well, well," I said, this time tears of laughter rolled down my face. "I guess it all has finally hit me! I mean, what was that all about? All this panic about Passover and having the very special charoset of my father's people? I couldn't just make do with apples and walnuts?" We both were laughing by now. We stopped outside our favorite coffee shop prepared to stand in line for a latte. But as luck would have it, there was no line. We quickly received our lattes along with a fresh, warm, melt-in-the-mouth croissant, and headed home. As I drove I once again noticed the blossoming trees and misty morning, abundance of spring flowers, and a woman jogging up the steep side of the road, as she pushed a wide stroller with two children in it. We slowed down, smiled and waved at her, giving her two thumbs up as she smiled and waved back at us. "Ah," I sighed, "I have come back to me."
All's well that ends well. Breathe in and out and accept all manner of emotions that come our way. These are surreal times, and facing uncertainty is a powerful challenge. One thing is for sure. I am grateful for Tom, my darling community, and the fact that I am fortunate in so many ways. It opens my heart today, and this Passover to all those thousands - millions - who suffer each and every day. I will remember and hold them all in my heart always.
Yes. Yes. One day at a time ... actually one moment at a time. I think because I have the time and space now to reflect, I am learning viscerally more and more how to be present in the moment.
Posted by: Tamarika | March 31, 2020 at 06:23 AM
It is so difficult to know what will overwhelm us now. Why or when, or how many times will I keep feeling this panic. One day at a time is the mantra. Today I walked 7.2 miles. Then I panicked and have decided I need to not go out at all.....I'm kind of a confused contradiction of every thought I have!😱
Posted by: Marion Barnett | March 30, 2020 at 10:58 PM