How do I cut cheese?

Recently we had a guest in our home who assisted in the preparation of an hors d’oeuvre plate for a small soiree. The assortment of offerings was quite delectable to say the least. But I became somewhat concerned when our guest, newly sharpened Wüsthof paring knife in hand, asked, “How do I cut cheese?” My concern increased to astonishment after I deftly relieved her of possession of the knife and replaced it with a cheese- slicer, which she fixedly studied with that “what’s this thing” sort of intensity.

The conclusions elicited from her question led me to the following observations.

  1. She came from extreme wealth and therefore had, truly, never actually cut cheese in her life because the kitchen help or chefs were responsible for such menial tasks.
  2. This was a ploy to get someone else to cut the cheese for her.
  3. Her planet did not have cheese or knives, let alone cheese slicers.
  4. She had just been released from the asylum where “residents” were not allowed to play with knives, nor would they ever come in contact with a cheese slicer.

The impressive thing was the unpretentious, pleasing, and direct manner in which she asked. She seemed neither embarrassed nor unashamed. (Though I did notice her face develop a peculiar reddish tint as the question left her lips.) Whether from naïveté or ignorance, her query was most appropriate. That alone is an inspiring, notable, and extraordinary feat in our self-dependent, independent, and improper society.

Why can’t more of us be like our unassuming, knife-relieved house guest? You don’t know something, or don’t know how to do something— ask. Is it truly that difficult? Do we assume that everyone on the planet comes out of the womb with the knowledge of how to cut cheese, how to insert a shoe-string through a hole, how to add or subtract? Let alone the exploratory skills to map the sequencing of DNA double helix?

Some of the more challenging questions I’ve had to ask—

  1. How do I tie a Windsor knot?
  2. How do determine which god is God?
  3. What is the cleanest way to change the oil in my car? (there isn’t one, by the way)
  4. How do I determine the criteria for choosing the one I would marry?
  5. How do I cook steak properly? (medium-rare, of course)
  6. What am I supposed to be doing in this phase of my life?
  7. Why do different cheeses need different methods for cutting?

So, really, how do I cut cheese, or choose a spouse, or grill a perfect steak, or find God? The important thing is that asking questions is the simplest way to learn. Investigating and questioning then leads to richer understanding and deeper knowledge of cheese and everything else.

Have a cheesy week,

Gary

8 1/2 x 11

Take an 8½” x 11” sheet of paper. What will you write on it? Or scribble, or draw, or sketch? Or will you reproduce a Jan Van Eck, or fold it into a paper airplane or a work of origami? Or maybe crumple it into a ball for some rainy-day in-house fútbol.

If this 8½ x 11 sheet of paper symbolized your life what would you do with it? Not that life is all that two dimensional; it certainly is not. But if that sheet of paper could represent your life, what would you do with it? Many people let others write the paper of their life, giving up control, often capriciously. Some allow others to crumple them up into a little ball and kick them around for their entire life. What a tragic waste. More tragic are those who choose to write nothing…, absolutely nothing. They merely accept whatever comes their way.

Fortunately, there are enough of us who strive to make something of our life; to plan, create, design, and make a difference while we still have breath. Some of us are successful in business and accumulate mass fortunes. Their ability to make a difference on this planet is truly on a global scale. Their fortunes have helped the less fortunate rise to greater expectations for centuries. They deserve our thanks & praises. Others choose to serve humanity among unknown communities in the most neglected, war ravaged, impoverished places on earth. Their wealth is of a different nature. They will write the paper of their life to make just as much a difference as those who accumulate wealth; but their 8½ x 11 sheet will carry the names of those who our world will never notice…, except for the one person who came to them and cared. God, too, might notice.

As you continue to fill in the lines of your 8½ x 11 sheet of life (or paint & sculpt it) what will you write? If there are some lines already written you wish you could erase…, they cannot be. We have all written life-lines we pray no one else will ever read.

But we can choose to change the plot; to begin a new storyline, to start a new chapter that shifts the direction of our life away from ourselves and onto making a difference.

Allow me to leave you with a quote from George Bernard Shaw (Irish playwright, 1856-1950).

This is the joy of life:
Being used up for a purpose
recognized by yourself as a mighty one;
being a force of nature
instead of a feverish little clot of
ailments and grievances,
complaining that the world will not devote itself
to making you happy.

Now, back to writing,

Gary

knots

Most of us spend a good part of our lives untangling knots. Marriage knots, business knots, financial knots, teenage knots, new baby knots, change of location knots, unfulfilled dream knots, depression knots, communication knots, engineering knots, philosophical knots…, and the list goes on and on. I just stayed in a friend’s guest house and had to untangle the window blind knots to get them to work properly. Unless you are a problem solver by nature (and some of us are) knots are frustrating.

More often than knot (sorry) disentangling life’s’ knots ties us up in knots. Our stomach churns, gut tightens, heart beats faster, emotions are on edge; and we live inside a silent tension between turbulence and resolve. Yet externally, as far as others are able to see, we are an image of a peaceful garden on a warm summer day. Or maybe not. Deep knots move from our insides to tie us up inside and out. That makes other people r-e-a-l-l-y worried. Nonetheless, life’s knots + stomach knots = a really bad feeling of being out of control.

Let’s look at that control issue a bit. There are many times throughout our lives where we are, truly, NOT in control. We either lose control, others have or take control over us, especially in employment situations, or we have no idea as to how to maintain or regain control. The place to start is not with words or actions that demand we be given control once again but rather how we deal with not being in control.

It becomes a matter of trust, safety, and confidence. If you always panic at every situation, you need to take hold of yourself.  Learn to stop the panic or it will kill you. That is when establishing a modicum of trust is critical. Not that you necessarily trust those who lord their control over you, but rather that you learn to trust in the God who made you. He does, after all, have your best interest at heart. Safety starts there, in the arms of God, then moves to confidence. If you have a sense that God is in control, you can rest more comfortably that you do not need to be. True, you need to exercise your abilities within your area of expertise, within your confidence level; but if your confidence is in your own skills, your own abilities, exclusively, WATCH OUT! You are headed for a fall.

Many of our inner knots are indeed products of the plethora of knots we endeavor to untangle in our daily lives and work. But dare I say that many of the knots, internal and external, could be untied if we just learned how to trust in the God who made us. Maybe we need a bumper-sticker that reads—

Live responsibly— Trust God

Ergo, knots untangled. Jus’ sayin’.

Have a nice week,

Gary

Shifting Gears

Petar Milošević

Nooooooo. This is not another one of my tales where I somehow manage to sneak in a stealthy connection to the Bugatti Veyron. I am not THAT devious. Mostly. But it is an argument for the need we all have to shift gears every now and then. So many of us get stuck in a rut—working 24/7, never stopping, or working 9-5, coming home & wasting our evenings in mindless wonders. Others of us work hard to play hard. Then there those of us who just settle; whatever comes along next is what we follow. Some of us fall into a seasonal pattern—last vacation, pre-vacation, vacation, & next vacation; we work to build up a bundle of $$$ to play next year.

The point is that we rarely take a breath long enough to look at the broad brush strokes across the journey of life. For some of us our journey is like a carriage ride—we cruise along steadily, calmly, enjoying life’s scenery, letting the horse set our life’s pace. For a few of us, the journey is more like the German Autobahn, where life (& Veyron’s) know NO speed limits. We are determined to get ahead no matter what. But for others, the journey is like a Ferris Wheel at the County Fair; we allow our life simply to go round and round, having both highs and lows, then we go round again.

Whatever your life pattern, wouldn’t it make sense to take at least a little control and consciously shift gears every now and then? To some degree all of us can grab hold of life’s gear shift and make conscious efforts to pick it up a little when the pressure is on, or to slow it down to take those much needed breaks. To not do so is to feed the flames of fatigue, burn-out, decreased productivity, and shattered relationships.

Shifting gears, though, just doesn’t happen. None of us has the luxury of an automatic-journey. We are designed to be actively involved in directing and redirecting our lives, much like a certain car I will not mention. NOT to steer your life leads invariably to a certain crash. And with the many twists and turns in life’s roadways we are going to have to do a substantial amount of steering, slowing down at the curves, pulling over for refueling, and speeding up on those straightaways!

Shifting gears is a lot more work than driving through life on automatic: and it’s a lot more fun, too.

Okay, I’m not that strong after all. Grrr !

Have a nice week,

Gary