Just A Taste

Taste every fruit of every tree in the garden at least once. It is an insult to creation not to experience it fully. Temperance is wickedness.
Stephen Fry

How many times have we looked at something on our plate and pushed it away with the fork because it looks funny or smells strange?  How often do we decide based on the color that we no longer like green beans or eggplant?  How often are we judging a book by its cover, or a food by its color or shape?

Can food be more than what we put in our mouth to provide substance?  Can we enjoy food in a way that makes it interesting?  Into a game?  Have you ever taken a Warhead and tried to see how long it would take before you made a face?  Have you ever grabbed a bag of marshmallows and tried to see how many you could fit in your mouth?  Okay, so these are childish games, but are there other games that adults could play?

Could food turn into a guessing game?  Could adults not guess based on taste and texture what had been placed in their mouth?  Maybe the first taste could be something easy, like a bite of strawberry or a piece of chocolate.  A second taste could be harder, like a marshmallow or mashed potatoes.  It could be something juicy and messy like a bite of peach or mango, or something neater like a piece of hard candy.

If we don’t try to have a bit of fun with new ideas, like turning food into a game, how can we truly experience anything fully?  Even if we’re adults we shouldn’t stunt our curiosity and creativity that we had as a child.  Being childish isn’t a bad thing as long as we balance it with the responsibility of adults when that too is necessary.

I smile and set the table, letting you peruse the refrigerator and cabinets to determine what we would have for lunch today.  I set table for two and stand next to you, asking if there is anything I can help with.  When you shake your head and tell me to sit down, I walk back to the table and sit in the chair.

After a few minutes I hear you walking up behind me.  “Close your eyes.”  I close my eyes and hear you put a plate down on the table.  “Open your mouth.”  I keep my eyes closed and open my mouth, not sure what to expect to taste.  I smile as a rich fruity taste touches my tongue.  “Don’t eat it yet.”  You warn just as I’m about to pull the fruit into my mouth to enjoy it.

I stay patient, holding my mouth open and just tasting the juice from the fruit on my tongue.  Its something citric, but I’m not sure if its an orange or a tangerine.  I grin as I hear that I may eat it now and quickly take the fruit into my mouth.  I offer a slight face as I taste the sour taste of a lemon.  I smile after I swallow the fruit bite.  “Lemon.”  I say with a smile, recognizing the taste.

“Open your mouth.”  I open my mouth again, waiting to see what you offer me next.  I frown a bit as I feel it fall on my tongue.  Its light and dry, drying my tongue a bit.  “You can taste this one.”  I pull my mouth closed and swallow, making a face as the salt hits the roof of my mouth.  I keep my eyes shut but look in your direction.  “Salt.  May I have water please?”  I request, wanting something to get the salt from my mouth.

I smile as I feel a glass pressed against my hand.  “Thank you.”  I say appreciatively and lift the glass to my lips.  I take a few swallows rinsing the salt from my mouth, but not quite the whole taste.  I smile and hear you tell me to open my mouth again and do so, wondering what I’ll taste next.

I frown as I feel a similar feeling of the next taste falling on my tongue.  It too is light, dry, and drying to my tongue.  I hope its not more salt.  I don’t think it is, but it wouldn’t surprise me to feel salt on my tongue again.  “Taste it.”  I close my mouth and smile, glad to taste that its not salt again.  “Sweet.”  I said softly, swallowing again.  “Sugar.”  I said softly, reaching for the water again.

I take a few swallows before opening my mouth again at your request.  “One more to guess.”  I wait for you to put something else on my tongue and smile as I feel its not some strange powder this time.  Its just as dry, but not drying.  I am about to pull it into my mouth when I hear you stop me.  “Not this one, wait.”  I frown but open my mouth again, feeling what’s on my tongue melt ever so slightly, though it wasn’t cold.

I grin and pull the taste into my mouth when you tell me I can and smile as I recognize the bitter taste.  I hold it in my mouth, letting it melt rather than chewing it.  “Chocolate.”  I say with a smile and swallow the taste again, getting some of the melted chocolate off my tongue.

“Good boy, open your eyes and let’s have lunch.”

Being Four

The prime purpose of being four is to enjoy being four - of secondary importance is to prepare for being five.

Jim Trelease

Children are one of the greatest teaching examples we know.  While we were all children once, it’s hard to remember the lessons we learned as a child and the experiences we had.  Children are brave.  Children are curious.  Children are imaginative.  And somehow, as we grow into adults, we lose a lot of that.  Adults are fearful.  Adults are set in their ways.  Adults see things the way they are conditioned to see them.  Don’t you want to be a child?

I work with children.  I enjoy working with children.  I do not have any of my own, and quite frankly do not believe I am ready for any of my own yet.  I get my reward from watching children for a few hours a day and sending them home with their mommy or daddy, happy to get a hug or a kiss blown to me from the safety of their parent’s arms.  I enjoy giving children back to their parents.

Children are very imaginative creatures.  Leave a child unattended for a moment and he is likely to get into something you’d rather he not.  There is one little boy I watch who reminds me how fearless children really are as well as imaginative.  He had a cape tied around his neck from a box of costumes we have at work.  He climbed up on the table and, when asked to get down, he proceeded to jump off the table as if he were a super hero.  This, of course, soon became a game.

While he was grinning and having the time of his life, I was watching him, inches from wanting to tear him from the table and plant both feet firmly on the ground.  He was brave, curious, and imaginative.  I was fearful and set in my ways.  I had to step back and see things from his point of view.  It wasn’t hurting him to jump off the table, even though it was a risk.  Even if he did get hurt, it wouldn’t be anything major.  Who was I to try to starve his bravery, curiosity, and imagination?

Sometimes the only thing a four year old needs to do is be four.

He is still learning.  He is still growing.  He is finding his own boundaries of what he is and isn’t able to do.  He is finding his own boundaries of what he is and isn’t allowed to do.  These two boundaries don’t often meet up at the same line.  He needs to be able to grow and expand.  He can’t be held to the same boundaries he was at when he was three.  And, when he is five, no longer the same boundaries as when he was four.  He needs to slowly learn new boundaries as he grows older.  He needs to be exposed to new rules and new responsibilities.

The only other thing he needs to do is prepare to be five.

And yet, we are not four going on five.  We are older.  We have more responsibilities than just obeying the rules that mommy and daddy set for us.  Or do we?  Maybe we aren’t accepting responsibilities and rules from our parents, but we are accepting them from the people around us.  We obey the law given to us by legislators.  We obey the orders given to us by our bosses.  We obey the requests given to us by our spouses.  Rather than mommy and daddy, we accept rules from everyone we interact with.

We try to tell ourselves that we do things the way we do them because we want to.  And, in a sense, we do.  We wake up at a certain time because that is the time we want to wake up.  But why do we want to wake up at that time?  Do we have to be up that early so we can be ready for work on time?  Or do we want to be up earlier to have time to ourselves in the morning before handing our day to our bosses, or perhaps so we’re alert before doing so?

We work very much in the same way we were taught as children.  We have an order to the things we do and a reason behind every action.  We eat three meals a day because we were taught to eat three meals a day.  When we specifically eat those meals may vary from person to person, but we eat one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and one in the evening.  We call these meals breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  These are all things we were taught.  These are rules and boundaries we know now at whatever age we are.

Sometimes the only thing a four year old needs to do is be four.  This applies to us no matter what age we are.  We need to be who we are, where and when we are.  All the responsibilities we have at whatever age we are, are the ones we need to worry about and respond to.  We don’t always progress to new responsibilities with every new year, but the concept is the same.  We need to worry about what we worry about now.  We don’t need to worry about what we did years ago or will do years in the future.

The only other thing he needs to do is prepare to be five.  This applies to us as well.  We need to prepare for the future, but we don’t need to worry about it.  The future will come in its own time.  Preparing and worrying are not the same thing.  To prepare is to be ready for it, to take steps to cope with it.  To worry is to dread, to fear, to not cope.  To worry is to do nothing productive.  We must be productive to prepare to be five.

Secrets

I’ll keep you my dirty little secret…

All American Rejects – Dirty Little Secret

Secrets, secrets, secrets.  Everyone has a secret.  Most people have more than one.  Some people have closets filled of secrets from wall to wall from top to bottom from front to back.  Is the door threatening to break off its hinges?  Does the door thump to the rhythm of the tell-tale heart?  Does a voice chant out the list of secrets in your mind?

This is one of my secrets.  This blog.  This life.  These thoughts.  If you were to see me on the street you would know none of them.  If you were family, a friend, a coworker, a complete stranger, you would see nothing about this part of me.  I keep it hidden in my mind, behind locks and chains and wooden panels.  No light can get to my secrets.  No sound can come from them.  They are hidden as the skeleton in the closet of my mind.

I hide.  I keep this part of me hidden from the world.  It escapes and is let free while I’m online.  The blessings of the anonymity of the internet.  I wonder about letting this secret out, letting the people I see on a day to day basis see this part of me.  I’m afraid.

I lie.  I lie to myself.  I tell myself I’m not afraid of people knowing.  I tell myself I don’t care about what others think of me.  I’m lying.  I’m terrified of other people knowing.  No, I’m not afraid of their knowledge.  I’m afraid of how they will think of me.  I’m afraid of their ignorance.  I’m afraid they will judge me.  I’m afraid they will treat me differently.  I’m afraid they will be afraid.

I’m good at keeping secrets.  No one knows.  I feel safe.

Freedom

Freedom means you are unobstructed in living your life as you choose.

Anything less is a form of slavery.
Wayne Dyer

Freedom in chains sounds like an unbelievable contradiction.  Freedom is “the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint”* it is “exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.”* it is “the power to determine action without restraint”* it is “personal liberty, as opposed to bondage or slavery”*.

If freedom is all of those things, how can there be freedom in chains?  Chains are confining.  Chains are physical restraint.  Chains are external control.  Chains are interference.  Chains are bondage.  Chains are all the things that freedom is defined as not being a part of.  There can be no freedom while in chains.

Unless chains is a form of liberty.  Unless chains is the choice.  Unless chains are exactly what would be taken away if there were not freedom.  To be truly free is to decide what you want and to have it.  What if the wanted is to be bound and enslaved?  Could there then be freedom in chains?

I like chains.  I like rope better, but “Freedom in Rope” didn’t have quite the same ring to it as “Freedom in Chains”.  I like being bound.  I like being vulnerable.  I like being exposed.  I like being owned.

I am owned.

I am not crazy.  I am not confused.  I am not captive.  I am not coerced.  I am nothing that makes me anything unlike the people you see walking with you in the store or driving past you on the street.

I am a man who enjoys being owned by a woman.  While being owned I feel the most freedom, the most happiness, the most security, the most safety, the most joy.  While being owned I feel alive.  I feel at peace.  I feel like myself.  I feel like I am who I am supposed to be.  This feels normal.  This feels right.  This is something I never want to give up.

This is my freedom.

*definitions of freedom, according to http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/freedom