Oh What A Day!

Who can say when moments like these will happen? Moments where the whole world appears so spellbinding, so outrageously beautiful, so perfect, that it seems both surreal and at the same time more real than anything you've ever known. 

Even though I was barely 5 years old, I was keenly aware that day as I was walking home from kindergarten that something definitely out of the ordinary was happening. All alone, as I looked up into the sky, I was aware of seeing a blue I had never before even imagined. More than cerulean. Deeper, palpably more intense than any Crayola crayon ever created, any wave that ever crested, any sparkling jewel ever coveted. I didn't just see blue--- it was somehow part of me, or I was beautifully part of it! 

And the white of the clouds in contrast, so brilliant, so pure. They were vivid, delicious. And the trees--- greener than green, and so alive I could see vibrant life in every leaf. Each oak, maple, willow towered over me and shimmered in the dazzling light show especially for me. It filled up my senses. Tasting the colors, smelling them, touching the inside of the world. Being touched. It all blended into my very being.  

I melted into the warmth and glory of the sun, the gentle breeze was my very essence. As if I had jumped into my own finger painting, caressed by the swirls, enveloped in the colors. It seemed as though time had finally stopped, and yet the world had just truly started, all fresh and beyond words to describe it, only to feel it. 

I don't know if I ever really thought much of God before that day, but at that moment I knew He existed, and was perfect. I loved Him wholly. Never was I more alive. Ever after, I began searching for Him, whom I had really already found. Paradox has since been my marker for truth in that journey. 

There are some moments, some days where the overpowering inspiration of it is an overwhelming gift to forever be grateful for. 

Or could it be that's there for us everyday, simply if we become aware of it? Tell me, how does it get any better than this?

Evolution

                                              (Adam Voorhes)

First day of kindergarten. My Mom drops me off at Gifford Elementary and leaves. I cry. A river. And slither out the door. Escape artist fail. Mortifying call for Mom, but fortunately she was born with the amazing sense to call Dad to come home from work to handle this emergency. Well she had no car, and toddlers at home, so guess he had the default position?

For two weeks, on and off, we do this dance. Either he has to stay with me for a while at school after getting me there, or come home and take me back to school.  And stay with me awhile anyway. I get good at tears. I get good at school. Well not so much, but good enough to not run home anymore. 

For the next seven years, I walk/run to school and back home for lunch. Campbell's Tomato Soup often, and grilled cheese! Then walk back to school for the afternoon session and back home afterwards. Raw potato slices usually, and salt. Eventually I learned to steal candy out of the drawer when no one is around to look. Becomes one of my hidden talents, and sugar addiction serves/curses me most of my lifetime. 

Even though Jr. High is a couple blocks closer, they don’t make any allowances for going home for lunch. I hate cereal, any breakfast food, so I always refuse to eat in the mornings, a rebel without a full tummy. I'm teeny tiny, but Mom packs lunches with the mindset that I might be joining the football team as quarterback or tight end. Always one and a half sandwiches. Roast beef (leftovers from Sunday) on Mondays, then rotating bologna, tunafish, pbj, idk. But who does a sandwich and a half? And I don’t dare not partake, because I'm convinced that woman has eyes in the back of her head, and probably spies at school. She tells me she has to ask others what’s going on all the time, because I never tell her anything. Heck, I never tell anyone anything. 

High School is much farther away, hence a little more privacy one would dare to think. But I know my Mom and her superpowers. So I still eat the blasted sandwiches and twinkies and fruit/veggies every single day. And become the star quarterback! With a tight end! 

It wasn’t till I escape to college 1500 miles away that I'm independent enough, at 17, to drop the routine. I'm also too broke to eat lunch so my boyfriend generously shared his cafeteria options with me. I always choose cucumbers and tomatoes.  Still my favorite.  

Luck is on my side and I grow up anyway, and along the way- say 50 years in, I decide to become vegetarian. This ironically after being virtually a carnivore since my first teeth came in. My sister used to sit next to me at the kitchen table, and seeing as Mom was often distracted taking care of the food and cleaning up while we ate, Jan would covertly slip whatever meat was on her plate under the table to me. And I would reciprocate and stealth bomb her my potatoes or whatever starchy offering I could clear from mine.  

And so it went. Nevertheless in 1996, I'm given a book, Diet for a New America by John Robbins, that changes my thinking, my life. Thank you, Linda Vazquez! Having been oblivious to the horrendous ways that animals were raised and abused in order to fill our voracious appetites for dead flesh, my eyes open, my heart shatters.  

Robbins deserves a lot of credit for not just exposing these practices, but for not doing so in a sensational manner to get the point across. It was how he presented what he saw and found, and lets the reader make up his own mind. And this reader does. I live on sauteed mushrooms and frozen strawberries for a year. And rice, lots of rice. Not concerned about my health, I change it up for the sake of the animals. 

Five years later when my husband's diagnosed with stage IV cancer, veganism for his health becomes  urgent, paramount, and I embrace it on both levels. I have no doubt that such radical change gave him 12 extra months on earth with some especially priceless highlights for him to enjoy.  

Twenty five years later, I am so grateful for the epiphany I had to be able to make this change. But regrets? I've had a few I'd like to mention. Fifty years of eating animal cadavers is a ton of regret! Beyond sad. If only we could go back in time for some hefty do overs. However, better late than never. For the sake of the animals, and for the sake of my own health, this indelible choice has been the most tender of mercies.