JUST KEEP ON COOKING

If you are anything like me you’re quite envious when watching cooking shows and see the chef’s ingredients all measured out in little jars. They are so calm and peaceful as each prepared ingredient sizzles as it hits the pan. We jump online to purchase their cookbook, as we believe our cooking experience will mirror exactly what we’ve just watched.

We arrive home one day, and there it is, resting on our front doorstep, the cookbook that is going to bring taste and calm to our kitchen.

The only thing that resembles anything from the cooking show is when we preheat the oven. It doesn’t take long before we’re running from one side of the kitchen to the other, trying to find the correct ingredients. Halfway through we seem to forget all forms of measurement. A teaspoon becomes a swig and a cup becomes a few handfuls. There is always one ingredient we forget to add and end up asking ourselves what we can substitute for that herb we forgot to grab on the way home that evening.

It is manic every time, we never really know what we’re doing, but it works out in its own little way, and we’re back in the kitchen the next night doing it all again.

It is similar to life. As much as we wish we could have all the ingredients of our life in front of us at the beginning, knowing exactly what, when and how to do it. We can’t, as life is not a cooking show.

When we decided to pack, sell or donate everything we own and housesit our way around North America, there were countless questions we didn’t know the answers to – Are we going to be able to rent out our home in Australia, will we be able to get the appropriate US visa, can we purchase a car in the US, where will we stay after the first housesit finishes in May.

It would have been great if I knew the answers to all the questions that were raised at the beginning. Hey, it would be great if I knew answers to some of the questions now. 

But I realised it wasn’t a necessity to have all the answers from the beginning, that they would unfold in the future and I would gather some of them along the way.

The only answer I needed was for the question, “Do you want to do this?” and I knew that answer was an overwhelming YES. I then figured a little bit out each day.

If we wait until all the ingredients are in front of use before we start cooking, we will starve at the table of life.

It will never be the perfect time, we won’t know every possible outcome, we won’t know the answer to every question, and self-doubt will never completely disappear.

The secret is to just keep on cooking. If we step into life’s kitchen each day we will discover new ingredients and there will always be food on the table. Some days it feels like we’re fine dining and other days it is like we’re eating last week’s leftovers. Either way, we’re not hungry and our dreams and goals are fed by our decisions and actions. 

Have fun in the kitchen and just keep on cooking: Live immediately.

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THOSE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE MOMENTS

We have set up the Inkling Design studio in the basement of the log cabin, here in Clam Lake, Wisconsin. The desk is up against a window that frames a snow covered lawn, lined with pine trees on each side, leading down to Spider Lake 20 meters away.

It is our living artwork and the nature playground for a little brown squirrel that scurries through the thick snow powder under the awning, and the deer herd that stroll through daily, eager for their afternoon delight of corn and apple that we scatter through the snow.

Andy and I brought a cup of tea down for Inga one afternoon as the animal parade was unfolding outside the window. There was silence as I picked Andy up so she could stand on the draws beside the desk and the three of us watched through the window.  Through the silence Inga said, “Can you believe we’re actually doing this?”

I have lost count of the number of times we have seen squirrels and deer in our yard, but this was one of those beautiful little moments when the three of us were all present, grateful that we could experience it together, a somewhat meditativeness in the silence. There was no fanfare or the need to disturb it by taking a photo to share with people that weren’t there. 

In years to come, when all the ski days blend into one, the names of the people we’ve met are forgotten and the photos taken are just another folder on my desktop, it is the little moments like this that will shape our memory of this adventure.

Treasure the little moments, as they are all that matter: Live immediately

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IS IT WHAT YOU EXPECTED?

Life has been nomadic for over a month, and bizarrely, in the space of a few days, three dear people in my life have sent me brief messages asking the same question – Is it what you expected?

It is an interesting question, as it is one that requires you to go into your past to answer it.

The question is asking that you analyse your present life, from a past thought of what your future might be. To judge your past imagination against the reality of today.

I generally don’t have expectations. This way, I’m usually quite happy with how the future unfolds.

Is it what you expected?

I moved to a log cabin in the middle of a national park, in a small town of northern Wisconsin. 

I expected it to be fun, cold, quiet, not many people. And it is all those things.

Does the yardstick of expectation only derive from past experiences, so our expectations are minimal or non-existent when we’re doing something for the first time?

To expect - There seems to be a sense of entitlement. That we did something, only because we assumed a particular result would happen. 

Is it what you expected?

Or is the question deeper than that, does the question really ask - what have your struggles been?

That question is much easier to answer. 

Change.

Uprooting the family to spend a year in another country was a huge change for the entire family. Our environment, our home, the climate, our community all changed. Surprisingly this large change was quite easy because everything was external.

The little, day-to-day smaller changes are much harder - as they are internal changes.

I’m with my curious four-year-old daughter for twelve hours a day in -25 degree snow. There are days when we go skiing, or into the library that is an hour away, into town to collect some groceries or wander through the woods. But there are also days when I’m in a two-bedroom log cabin, entertaining, educating, and attending to my daughter from 7am to 7pm.

I struggle when I expect her to eat her breakfast, lunch or dinner.

I struggle when I expect her to play with her toys so I can have a moment to myself.

I struggle when I expect her to know what I know and act accordingly.

I struggle when I expect myself to act a certain way but I get frustrated or angry.

I struggle when I expect to have all the answers but I don’t.

I struggle when I expect.

I looked at my struggles and the internal fight I kept having with myself about wanting to do something for me, but also wanting to be present for Andy. Internally, I felt pulled in all directions and I felt uneasy about how I was feeling inside.

I believe if you want something to change then you need to do something different. I decided to do two things;

1. Wake up an hour before everyone else.  
2. Stop being controlled by time.

That hour before everyone wakes is priceless. It is my hour. It makes me feel like I’ve cheated the day and captured a little bit extra for myself. I meditate and exercise. It is my hour to start the day how I want to. It might sound selfish, but I have taken care of me first. Now I am ready to take care of others.

One of the reasons we wanted to embark on this adventure was to take ownership of our time, to be more deliberate with our actions, and to create freedom within our choices. To take the controlling powers away from time required a shift in mindset. Before this adventure we were all about chasing time to be on time – being at work, to that meeting, appointment, social engagement, all on time, and then there was the art of making time to fit everything in. 

I stopped being controlled by time by not rushing Andy. I started to do things on Andy’s time. If I wanted her dressed but she wanted to play, I would let her play. If she wanted to walk around in the snow making footprints before we went into the shop, I would let her do it and join in. If she wanted to take 45min to eat breakfast, I would let her eat cold porridge. 

What I noticed is that we didn’t clash as much and when I did ask her to do something she usually did it. 

I wanted to take ownership of my time and by doing so, I allowed Andy to take ownership of hers too.

I wasn’t living in a state of rush anymore, but it took some time to realise this, get used to it, and adapt to it.

Did I expect it would be easy? No. 

Did I expect I would need to dig as deep inside myself as I have? No.

It is what you expected? 

I think this adventure is teaching me the opposite - to not expect, to be present with the now and not exist in future thoughts, to let things be, to live immediately.

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