Yesterday we had friends over for brunch. I made homemade donuts for dessert. We dipped the bite sized bliss into chocolate ganache, toasted almonds and raspberry puree. For me it was heaven; the donuts, the dark coffee and chatting with friends while the little ones ran in and out from under the canopy of the elm tree -  its long branches reaching down to the ground like a grandfather’s loving and protective arms.

I realized I could be quite content making donuts for my friends every day, especially Doug. He seemed to love them. What could possibly be wrong with doing what we love each day even if it’s a simple and small act of making donuts? What could possibly go wrong with dedicating your day to joy?

Making donuts for Doug doesn’t solve world hunger nor does it make a massive contribution to mankind. But in a microcosmic way, doing what you love everyday for the sake of nothing more than the joy and the creative endevor, tips our lives towards the light. And that seemingly small personal adjustment does impact the collective; shinier, happier people out on the road of life.

Furthermore, isn’t it when we dwell here – I’m in my blissful donut making state of mind – that the other pieces of life’s puzzle such as financial stability and success sort themselves out?  Don’t those larger pieces come together as a natural consequence of devoting your day to doing what you love?

Carrie

I recently watched the movie It’s Complicated with Meryl Streep who plays the divorcee, Jane Adler. I loved it. Fun, funny, refreshing and messy (except for Adler’s garden and croissants! They were gorgeous.) I’m inspired. I’m going to make croissants one morning very soon.

The complicated part of Adler’s life was, I thought, enlightening. I think our human nature is much more comfortable with a clearly defined, everything falls in order and stays in order, type of existence. We can see what’s coming and we’re good with that. But how often does life unfold in this way?

When I am in chaos, confusion or facing something negative that seems to have no end, I envision that I am standing in the middle of an overgrown garden or a thicket. In the centre of it all, I can only see the  entangled, confusing vines, skyward shooting branches and wildly growing shrubs that immediately surround me. My awareness is limited to the unclear, confusing, seemingly isolated bits and pieces taking over the garden.

However, if we could rise above and see the garden in its entirety we might see that on the edge there is a gardener diligently working to bring shape to the chaos. With every weed she pulls or root she digs a new life, a new outcome, a new meaning is taking form. Somewhere on the edge, the confusion is being brought into a meaningful whole one weed pulling at a time. I’m just not privy to the activity taking place. So I have to remind myself that somewhere in the garden that is my life, meaningful creation is occurring and it is only a matter of time or necessary experiences before that new creation becomes visible to me.

Carrie