• what is the meaning of life?

    On one of those blistering hot days a couple weeks ago, one of my girlfriends and I were in belly-deep water in a backyard pool, sipping spiced cranberry mead and bobbing on floaties. “So I’ve been thinking about the meaning of life,” I said. “Do you know what it is?”

    “I’ve been asking that very same question!” she said, smacking the water.

    “Well, do you have an answer?” I said.

    “No, I was hoping you would!”

    For the first (almost) fifty years of my life, my purpose has been mostly predetermined. As a child, teen, and young adult, my purpose was to grow up, get educated, and gain my own freedom. And then for the last twenty-plus years, my family — building it and then tending it — was what gave me purpose.

    But now I can do whatever I want and so I’m asking, What’s it all about? What do I reach for? How will I know they are the right things? How do I check myself? It’s not the specific choice that matters as much as the underlying motivation, so I’ve run through a list of all the things that, at first glance, appear to motivate me.

    Here’s what I think the answer to life’s meaning is NOT.

    It’s not fame or popularity. Whenever one of my little YouTube videos does extra well, or I get a bunch of comments on a blog post, or I get a flurry of compliments, I feel like I’m lifted, speeding along on a lovely little wave. But then the wave breaks and I’m deposited (rather indecorously, I might add) on the beach and, welp, ride’s over and that’s that. The truth is, all that good will doesn’t give me meaning. Which actually, now that I think about it, is a good thing, because the same goes for the bad will, whew! My meaning and drive and purpose needs to be internal if I’m gonna stay grounded.

    It’s not money. I’ve never been driven to make money but I have toyed with the idea of devoting myself to the pursuit of it, and while it’s be an interesting diversion, I’m sure, I also know that no matter how much I’d make, it’d never be enough.

    It’s not relaxation. I love my down time with the fiercest of passions (when I’m not chilling on the couch, I’m looking forward to chilling on the couch), but give me more than a couple hours of popcorn and Netflix and I begin to die inside.

    It’s not freedom, simply because people who lack freedom, however you might choose to define it, are still able to have deeply meaningful lives.

    For awhile I thought that maybe relationships were the answer, as in life is meaningful only in as much as we find connection with others. Or maybe it was generosity, not so much the act of giving but being invested in something beyond one’s own perspective? But no, relationships are constantly breaking, and generosity can be a selfish and draining act. 

    Here’s something else I’ve been thinking: If I were to die tomorrow, my death would upset a bunch of people, yes, but it would only disrail a handful of lives. And then, just a couple generations later, my very own descendents will probably not even remember my name. This is kinda depressing, of course, because I am the world (to me), but it’s also kinda grounding, or at least clarifying. My existence really doesn’t matter all that much.

    So then, I ask you (myself), what’s it all for?

    At long last, I’ve finally settled on the truest, simplest thing I can think of. See, I’ve noticed that the more I value what is, the less frenetic I feel. When I stop chasing projects, people, deadlines, to-do lists, and obligations and instead simply focus on appreciating the little things around me — my bare feet on the cool, leaf-strewn concrete porch, the laser focus required to get these thoughts into a Google Doc, the messily abundant pantry shelves, the bodies of my children obstructing my way around the kitchen — suddenly, it is enough. There is enough. Life is enough.

    Appreciating what is has two benefits. First, it removes the pressure to achieve — boots me right out of the ratrace hamster wheel, it does — and second, it gets me outside my feelings because there’s no need to like something in order to be grateful for it.

    Example: I don’t like running. It’s hard work, I can’t breathe, my thighs ache, my hair sticks to my sweaty skin, my body wants to stop. And yet, I can run! My body is strong! The air is fresh! The views are stunning! My heart beats! I am alive!

    Example: I don’t like a messy kitchen. Stuff’s in the way. I run out of space. Cleaning up takes time. And yet, I can cook! I have instant running water! Look at all my tools! I can make whatever I want! We have food! I have a freaking KITCHEN!

    The shift is subtle but the impact is huge.

    So regarding the meaning of life, this is where I’ve ended up: gratitude. It’s so simple, it sounds stupid, but I’ve yet to land on a better, truer answer.

    What’s yours?

    ***

    This same time, years previous: nine fun things, with the cool kids, yogurt: the water bath method, on putting up a BLM sign, a fantastic week, fried, in the kitchen, the quotidian (8.1.16), my deficiency, a pie story, babies, boobs, boo-boos, and bye-byes.

  • the quotidian (7.22.24)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    Hotdogs: just a vehicle for the relish.

    For better spreadability: warming up the butter shavings.

    Dang holey cukes.

    Lodi sauce, our fave.

    Simplest salad.

    Homemade is not easier than store-bought.

    When your friend’s a star baker, and generous, too.

    Garden rubies.

    Veggie dog.

    Travel tales.

    Birthday money branch.

    March messages.

    Kitchen cleaner.

    Heatwave.

    This same time, years previous: peach pie with bourbon and fresh rosemary, the quotidian (7.20.20), Italian meringue buttercream, lemony cream cheese frosting, all practicality, on his own, curry potato salad, beets, half-mast.

  • currently

    These days I am . . .

    Recuperating… from a little 13.5 mile walk I went on yesterday. After (above photo), my exhaustion levels were off the charts. I went to bed at 8.

    Wondering… why the insides of certain types of cucumbers disintegrate into nothingness. After the series of hot soaks that are called for in the 7 Day Sweets recipe, my small firm cukes were completely hollow. Where do the middles go? And what kind of cukes do retain their innards? Also…

    Thinking… about adding calcium chloride to my canned pickles to make them crispier. Why haven’t I done this before? Have you?

    Luxuriating… in a new (to us) car. AC! A smooth start! No random clunks and bumps! Good gas mileage! Plus lots of fancy extras which make me feel like royalty.

    Contemplating… the phrase, “A change is as good as a break.” It’s sooo true. Taking a 6 am kickboxing class after a year of noon classes. Reading on the porch instead of the sofa. Doing office work at a coffee shop instead of at home. Going on a run after taking a week off. Doing a prep shift instead of a pastry shift. Make a change = take a break. Do it.

    Eating… so much ice cream. Like, seriously, people. Sometimes I hit the freezer before breakfast! Right now I’ve got a gallon of vanilla base in the fridge waiting to be churned, and today my daughter just popped by the store to pick up Oreos and candy bars for some add-ins. I want to make butterfingers, too. (I already tried adding some commercial butterfingers to a batch of ice cream; they were good but I think homemade ones will be way better.)

    Procrastinating… making pesto with the garden basil. Really now, Jennifer. Get to it.

    Biting… off a bit more than I can chew, as per usual. Milkslinger’s got an intagram account now.

    Watching… My Lady Jane because my girls said to. Partly really good, partly silly stupid. Either way, it’s fun and my husband watches it with me.

    Appreciating… that my daughter’s landlords have a little above-ground pool. That thing got me through the worst of the most recent wretched heatwave.

    Realizing… that I’m going to be an old lady who comments on the weather. I can’t seem to help myself — it impacts me so! The heat is oppressive. The rain is needed. The cool breeze a relief. The chilly night invigorating. The weather is like another person in my life; sometimes we get along and sometimes we don’t, and I always have an opinion about it.

    Waking up… to the birds. I’m constantly noticing them — they chirp all day long — and they are incredibly insistent and loud. I think there are more of them here than there used to be. The bushes and trees have grown up around the house; from the road, our property looks a smidge unhinged. Kinda like me. I love it.

    Perusing… your comments about the oven, thank you! My husband ordered a replacement part which will keep the beast going for a few more months, but in the meantime I’m reading your comments and doing research and thinking. Maybe it’s time for a big change?

    Fantasizing… about having a personal clothing shopper and stylist. Someone who would stuff me into some super comfortable yet snappy-smart threads, and for free, too, of course. Wouldn’t that be fun?

    Chilling… some mead to take to a watch party tonight for Cry, The Beloved Country. I’m in charge of snacks so we’re having cheese and mead, naturally.

    Setting… boundaries. Friday evening to Monday morning, my Milkslinger account is shut down and I pretend YouTube and video editing and comments and stats don’t exist. (I still make and film cheese, if needed. Cows don’t take weekends off.)

    Cry-laughing… over this precious baby. You are my sunshine, of all things.

    This same time, years previous: milk sabbatical, the quotidian (7.19.21), the delegation, sweet sixteen, in the kitchen, a tale of two children, I found it!, picklehead.