I have always liked to cook.
I've never been too good at it, but I have always liked it.
Around the time that I was six or seven years old, my Grandma decided to take it upon herself to teach me everything she knew. I would stand on a chair in her kitchen so that I was tall enough to reach the counter, and I'd help her to stir the soup, shake in small amounts of spices, and of course, to sample everything.
Sometimes I'd stick my fingers in the pot and grab out the carrots when she wasn't looking. When she happened to catch sight of me doing so, she'd scoop out a few and put them in a bowel and sit me up on the counter. As I sat licking my tiny fingers clean and swinging my short legs, I watched intently as she dumped in various ingrediants. It amazed me to watch her cook.
She was always so confident in anything she made. She'd pick up pepper, salt, garlic, chili powder...anything she could find really... and she'd just throw some in. She never measured a thing, and yet, she never seemed concerned that it wouldn't be delicious either.
Eventually I worked my way up to cooking meals on my own, and throwing in my own ingrediants at random. When she'd find me a bit hesitant to throw in more than a pinch of certain spices, my Grandma would urge me to be more "risky."
I guess I had never thought of cooking as a chance to be "risky," but I liked the idea as soon as it was mentioned, and began dumping in anything I could get my hands on. It felt good too. That is, until I took a taste. My nose burned from the amount of vinegar I had dumped in, and my eyes swelled with tears realizing that I had ruined the soup I had been so proud of.
But my Grandma came to my rescue with a bottle of lemon juice she had found hidden somewhere deep within the refridgerator. Surprisingly, it's acidic composition negated all traces of the vinegar. She wiped a few tears from my eyes, spooned out some of my creation, and gave me a taste... it was GREAT.
Last night, after a heart-felt conversation full of confessions, these memories of cooking with my Grandma flooded my mind. I laid awake for hours on end, searching for meaning, until an underlying lesson became apparent... My Grandma taught me much more than how to make a simple meal on that day. She had taught me that sometimes in life you've just got to throw in everything you can without caring much about the consequences.
I feel as though I finally understand what she had been trying to teach me all along only now that the conversation I had last night took place. I couldn't grasp it's full meaning until I found myself in a situation for which it applied. Now I realize that just like cooking, love also requires great risk.
In past relationships... with guys, friends, even family... I have been pressured. I have been insulted. I have been put through more than anybody could ever imagine... by even people that I thought were supposed to love me. Those past experiences had knocked me down. They'd made me self conscious, worrisome, and even spiteful. Instead of allowing myself to become vulnerable again, I put up a certain sort of wall... a wall that made it almost impossible for me to completely open up to anyone. I guess I hadn't realized that I had done so until Justin called me out on it during our conversation last night. The more and more I thought about it, the more sense it made to me. He was absolutely right. My past relationships with people were always ones that I threw my all into. Unfortunately, a lot of those didn't end quite so respectively and so I quit allowing myself to put my whole heart into relationships. I was so afraid of being hurt again.
Love is something that should be approached with reckless abandon though. It's all about handing somebody your whole heart, knowing that they have the power to break it in half, but trusting them not to. A few mistakes in the past might leave you with a few fears for the future, but that should never stop you from living in the moment. You've got to give people the benefit of the doubt... throw in everything you've got, and love endlessly. If you should happen to have too much "vinegar", or too many problems, in the end there's always some kind of solution. But don't let that fear keep you from making your move, or even being yourself.
I promise that from now on, I will be making significant changes in my life now that I realize how much I have been holding back.
I will be opening up considerably to the ones that I love most. I will no longer judge myself with those same insulting remarks that I've heard from others in the past. And I will no longer hold back in fear.
I'm giving this life everything I've got. Prepare yourself.
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