Burnt Chocolate Stories

In the late 1980's, when my children were all teenagers, I decided I needed something to boost my self awareness, introspection, purpose. So I took a Wakeful Dreaming Workshop. If you've never heard of such a thing, you are not alone. The seminar took place in the family room of a Leader in Skokie, Illinois. I think there were only four of us, maybe six, a small group. One of us would lie down with our eyes closed while our partner asked questions to help us imagine a scene. "Is it warm, cold, sunny, rainy? Is anyone there? Do you see a path? Are there rocks?" And so on until the image you created in your mind provided a message for you to ponder. Then we would switch places so our partners had a chance to experience their dreams. It was a two day seminar with many different activities, one of which has had a lasting effect on me. At one point, I was walking on my path in my mind, daisies near the trees, a nice pond, a blue bird following me and the question I was ask...

 Every morning, I make a latte in my very old Nespresso machine that continues to limp along after providing me with coffee for nearly fifteen years. The frother died about five years ago so I purchased an inexpensive gizmo that does the job rather than buy a new machine. Sometimes I treat myself to a second or even third latte in the afternoon, which was my plan yesterday. Just as I was about to pour in the frothy milk, I knocked over the glass which broke, of course, and I had a clean up job which took a good ten minutes. I was aggravated with myself but not deterred. I filled the water dispenser, told myself to slow down and be careful and tried again. Unbelievably, I knocked over the completed latte this time so piles of milky foam floated on the countertop. At least the glass didn't break. If this had happened to someone else, I would have said "It's no bother. Don't be upset." But to me? Another ten minutes of clean up along with a great deal of scolding abo...

When I was a little girl, I never fit in with the popular crowd. My sister Sandy was ten years older and Eleanor six years older. They didn't give me the sibling support that they gave each other which made me something of a loner. There were other reasons of course. I was skinny and wore glasses from the age of two. My right eye turned in every other day which was something of a surprise to the many ophthalmologists my parents sought out. My mother could plan photography day for me weeks ahead, knowing which day my eyes would be straight. Finally, around my seventh birthday, Dr. Theodore Zekman agreed to operate and fixed that problem. But it was too late to stop the taunts from other children. I heard "four eyes" and "crazy eye" from other children which fostered caution in me. And a self image that has stayed with me, regardless of the facts. Childhood is a powerful experience that needs to be respected. A few weeks ago, I visited the nearby eye clinic to get...