On Gratitude and a Recipe
A Thanksgiving Tale
Author’s Note: I originally wrote this story on November 23, 2018. It details the Thanksgiving shenanigans of that year.
When Jon and I were first together he thanked me for everything - doing the dishes, going shopping, making food, getting gas, basically my very existence. I had never experienced that kind of gratitude before, for the seemingly smallest and most ordinary of things. This was genuine, sweet, and simple. It became much easier for me then to practice gratitude in the same vein - straightforward, unencumbered, from-the-heart gratitude.
Of course, I often forget. I often allow myself to feel overwhelmed by the illusion of third-dimensional density, weighted down by the many tasks and chores, and physical actions required to keep this whole, often ridiculous show going. I then forget to say "Thanks for doing the dishes" and instead yell out, "Do the damn dishes!" That just does not seem to go as well.
I've also been working on changing my "sorries" to "thank yous". Of course, I am not speaking here of the moments when my apologies are warranted ie: yelling "Do the damn dishes". I am referring to that debilitating program we run, those of us aligned with female bodies, the one where we shrink ourselves down and apologize for our very existence.
I like to practice this in the grocery store. Instead of apologizing when someone steps to the side to let me through, I say "Thank you". These "thanks yous" typically result in connection, even conversation, whereas the light shrinking "sorries" devolve into isolation and trigger feelings of lack of self-worth, and often, set off a series of "I'm sorries" from every single female within the vicinity, like a plague.
Women! Stop being sorry!
I also like to yell "Death to the patriarchy" in crowded grocery stores, but perhaps that's off-topic.
Speaking of the patriarchy, yesterday was Thanksgiving.
Over the years Jon and I have withdrawn from so many "supposed to's" and traditions to facilitate the deactivation of our enslavement programs that Thanksgiving now is typically just a quiet day to enjoy each other, the dogs, our neighbors, and the energy of the valley - so still and beautiful with most consumerism shut down. Last year we made potato pancakes and that was fun. So this year we thought we'd do the same. It was a good plan for the day, a plan that I upended when I saw on Instagram that a local restaurant was serving a Thanksgiving meal.
So we pushed our potato pancake dinner to Wednesday, which meant I needed to shop for a few things on Tuesday. I don’t know why it is I decided to leave the valley and head to the busyness of Oxnard and Ventura, perhaps a thought that I might save a few dollars? perhaps a thought that I would not be able to get what I needed locally? Whatever the source of my idiocy, I sent myself into the pre-holiday energy, running from store to store with the best of them. I was happily surprised that it was pretty quiet. And it would have stayed a quiet experience except for the nuts, or my desire to save a few bucks, or my perfectionism. It’s one of those things, I’m not sure which. I just was not able to buy nuts (I’m talking pecans and walnuts here) for the raw, pumpkin pie I was making, at the first 2 stores I went to. So, I went to the Trader Joe’s by the mall.
Packed, jammed, lines running into the aisles, all of my previous holiday feelings and experiences from years long gone slammed back into me as I walked into the store. I immediately started laughing at myself, completely aware of what I had created, the need to revisit this all, and that laughter (the 5D variety) allowed me to navigate easily and effortlessly, thanking people as we maneuvered by one another, staying joyful in the long line, even recognizing the angel that I kept encountering as I shopped for so much more than nuts, because while I was there, why not?.
Yes, there was an angel in the form of a 90-plus-year-old human female body walking around Trader Joe’s. She was tiny, wearing an American flag cap, had big gold stars for earrings, was carrying a basket on her arm with colorful Christmas ornaments, the big ball kind, and was pulling a purple suitcase. She was everywhere, talking to as many people as she possibly could, wearing and carrying exactly what she needed to be able to connect with as many as possible, for me it was the purple suitcase, of course. I walked around giggling as I observed her work her magic and then got out of there, with my current identity back intact.
The potato pancake and raw pumpkin pie (recipe at the bottom) dinner we made for ourselves on Wednesday was delicious and satisfying. As usual, we made way too much food and were able to share with neighbors and friends who were around at the time.
Thursday we set off for our dinner reservation.
It did not occur to us that enjoying a Thanksgiving meal out at a restaurant would or even could be exactly as many of our earlier dysfunctional family dinners had been. It should have, considering that Mercury was retrograde and we were on the eve of a full moon, but it just didn’t. So we blindly entered the belly of the beast of the mother wound as we walked into the charming space.
What proceeded was one of the most awkward experiences we’ve had after many years of avoiding Thanksgiving.
Afterward, during our debrief, Jon said that at one point he thought to himself, “If Nora can not save this social situation we are really in trouble.” I tried my hardest, to connect with those who were not available for connection — this pattern of mine, often near fatal to my own sense of self. The energy was too dense. Jon and I ate the delicious food (it truly was delicious) and hightailed it out of there, the first to leave. Our conversations with one another at the table, as we were all seated at one large table, “family style”, were primarily telepathic, so it was a relief to be alone together in our car, laughing hysterically about what we had just put ourselves through and dissecting it apart as we tried to discern the whats and whys to all of it. We both shared that at times we had to really struggle not to give in to feeling like shit about ourselves. We did not succumb. And it was work.
I am so grateful for this being, this partner in my life, who sees and feels this reality almost always exactly as I do. And on the rare occasions when we do see it differently, we are able to always see each other’s point of view. We sometimes have to yell at each other to make that happen, to fully get each other’s attention, but once that’s done, we do see, each other.
Vegan, Mostly Raw Pumpkin Pie with Cacao Crust and Coconut Whipped Cream
Crust:
2 Cups nuts (I used pecan and walnuts)
1 Cup Dates
2 T Cacao (Or cinnamon Or BOTH. Dang! I should have used both)
Throw it all in a food processor and process until it becomes a crumbly yumminess that sticks together.
Press in a pie plate or a parchment-lined square pan (8" or 9").
Place in the freezer
Pumpkin Filling:
2 Cups cashews (soak overnight in room temp water or for an hour or so in boiling hot water)
1 Can pumpkin (yes I used canned)
1/2 C Maple syrup (or honey, or your sweetener of choice)
1/4 C coconut oil — gently melted
1 t vanilla
2 t cinnamon (yes, 2 teaspoons, I thought it was too much too, so I just used one. After tasting it, I had to add another, but you should start with one and see how it goes)
1/2 t nutmeg
1/2 t ginger
1/4 t cloves
Process cashews first until creamy, add in everything else and process until thoroughly blended and super soft and luscious (you could do this in a high-speed blender as well. Mine is broken, so food processor it was. It worked beautifully).
Pour over the cacao crust and put it back in the freezer until set.
You’ll want to give this at least an hour in the fridge before serving.
Coconut Whipped Cream:
Take a can of coconut cream or coconut milk (the whole fat one) and put it in the fridge at least a day before you’re going to make this.
DON’T SHAKE IT!!!!!
An hour or so before making put a metal bowl and your beaters in the freezer.
When ready to make, open the can of coconut cream or milk and scoop out just the solidified cream on top. Once you hit liquid, STOP.
Whip on high speed with a teaspoon of vanilla and a teaspoon of maple syrup (or, again, your sweetener of choice) until it looks like whipped cream.
Eat!!!!
Store leftover pie in the freezer and coconut whipped cream in the fridge