Edges of living

“We’re always on the edge of something.” 

My colleague’s statement sounded in my ear as I rang my bell, alerting road hogging drivers of my presence, and peddling furiously to my next meeting.  I was having one of those jam-packed days where the edge of one meeting not only overlaps, but also cuts a huge chunk into the next meeting.  Barely able to catch my breath I throw on my helmet, hop onto Bianca (that’s my bike), and head off (already late) for the next meeting.

When I lived in a city where a car was my primary means of arriving late to things, I could make up some time.  Now, the occasional speeding ticket slowed down that day’s particular meeting spectacular, but that was not enough to deter me from thinking most days my car was a portal to make up time, and get me to my next meeting in the acceptable 10-15 minutes late.  I’ve now changed my 4 wheels to two (hooray biking), but my schedule planning (and belief in portals for that matter) has not.  Before with the car, these sorts of schedules would make me a little frazzled and delayed in thinking and meeting participation; on the bike however, it just makes me a frayed, sweaty mess gasping for breath and thought.

Meetings become Charlie Brown-esque encounters where I see mouths moving; hear “wonk, wonk, wonk,” as I contemplate the timing of my next move.  Basically I’m a crappy conversationalist and a frayed mess.   I always seem to be on the edge of finishing something, as another thing has already begun.  In our multi-tasking world we’re always on the cusp of completing not just 1, but 2, 3, 4 things at once. 

How do we ever finish one thing when there’s always something new to discover or do?  We’re expert do-ers, but does this doing strip us of the satisfaction of seeing a task to completion and simply being in the moment? 

Do we need a “The End” every now and then to fully enjoy the moment of life that just occurred?

In an effort to think through our own over-worked edginess today I’m making biscotti, rather than bread.  Bread, with it’s thin toasted crust and soft center might be what we hope to become in life, but in our over-achieving schedules I think we more often resemble the thorough crispiness of a biscotti cookie.

Biscotti

1 1/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour                        ¼ teaspoon salt

½ cup whole-wheat flour                                                1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder                                                2 eggs                                   

4 tablespoons unsalted butter (softened)                        ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon teaspoon almond extract                        ½ cup almonds (toasted)

½ cup dried cherries

1.     1. Preheat over to 350                        2.  Whisk flours, baking powder & salt together 

           3. Beat together sugar & butter in electric mixer, until creamy (3-6 min) 

                                a. Add in 1 egg at a time            b. Beat in extracts

4.     4. Reduce speed and slowly mix in flours.   5. Add almonds and cherries

      Shape dough into 2 13”x2” loaves on a baking sheeting, 3” apart.  Bake for 35 minutes or until golden brown and just beginning to crack.  Rotate baking sheet half way through.

6.     Allow loaves to cool on baking sheet rack (10 minutes), while turning oven to 325

7.     Cut diagonal ½ inch thickness.  Lay slices ½ inch apart.  Flip half-way through backing until golden brown on both sides (15-20 min).

Whether it’s the ending of a meeting or a relationship goodbye, I think we hop over our edges with new beginnings because they rumble the fear that if we stop we might become unproductive, obsolete, or fall into that dreaded word…settling.  Beginnings are those rare moments of basking in the greenness of other pastures; but eventually that newness wears off, so we venture out for bluer skies and newer moments. As more conversations, opportunities, and tasks come my way, the edges of projects begin to rub against one another.  My own edges become bristly, and I’m only able to share crisp remarks rather than good ideas.

The juggling of a few things usually allows creativity to flow into a variety of tasks but with the overload we focus on the end, and no longer enjoy the opportunity before us.  We become engrossed in doing the task, rather than being a part of something bigger than just us.  There is a sweet, small joy in the full cycle of a project, just as there is beauty in hitting the “pause” button, when “the end” is still a ways off.  Taking a deep breath, stepping back, and viewing what’s before us is a gift.  It’s seeing “the moment,” rather than only focusing on “the end.”

As I peddled, my colleague’s statement stirred up my many unfinished edges, but it also made me think of how much I like edges and endings.  This poem came to mind and I find it fitting to share over a cup of tea and a freshly baked biscotti.

Crispy Edges

I like crispy edges;

places where the tender

center finds its own shape,

and can rest on its own.

The edges of stories

usually reveal unspoken truths,

and the edges of cookies

unforeseen treats.

The edges of trips

Hold moment of goodbyes

…

as well as hellos.

I like the crisp edges,

though there are

rarely clean endings in life,

nor clear boundaries.

I like edges, nevertheless.

For edges are where we live life.

The edge between breathing out,

and breathing in

holds a crispness of life

waiting to live again, and again.

We’re like these cookies.  Sweet, a little crispy, but when shared with a cup of coffee in a pause, or end, we all soften a little.  Vowing for better time management, or saying “no,” are ways to address our overworked edges, but as we peddle along in those endeavors, I hope you can pause for a sweet softening “cookie” break every now and then, and just be on the edge of living.