Bonjour-Bonjour,
Who would you be if you put down your anger?
When I read that line in wonderful novel, LAKE EFFECT, by Cynthia D’Aprix Sweeney, I stopped breathing for a moment, then I read it again. I underlined the words because they are meaningful to my personhood… and as one does (maybe with a smidge-of-smug?), I thought of a handful of people to whom I would like to address that very question. “Who would you be if you put down your anger?” It bears repeating, no?
…
This year I’ve adopted for my motto the same one I heard George Saunders announce in an interview, “Admit it.” If someone comes to me with a grievance, I turn to three things:
their feelings
truth in their words
what I own
Then I say with humility and love:
I am so sorry. I admit it.
that must have been really hard for you
thank you for telling me.
Damn! Suddenly we are both free. It feels so good in my body, and I hope in theirs. It’s so nice to de-fang a relationship.
…
It’s the same with grudging. Listen, I used to thrive on nurturing my grievances. I felt a frisson of power from my feelings of incredulity, of self-righteous conviction, from my are you fucking kidding me? royal attitude. And now I ask, to what end? Who would I be if I dropped my anger? All that nurturing-of-my-precious-wound creates distance, causes gaps in my chain of connection, which is my other theme for this year, from the epigraph of HOWARDS END, by EM Forster:
“Only connect...”
I want no gaps. I don’t want to hide my love of family and friends beneath a grudge.
Is it my age? 64. Maybe. I certainly hear a clock ticking.
Is it this visit home where I’ve discovered my mother is starting to forget people close to her and she’s still so angry. If it is true that people die the way they live, I want to live kinder.
Is it that many friends are struggling… cancer, early-onset dementia, swindled from their entire retirement savings, divorces, gout… so many things to carry. What can we put down?
Who would we be if we put down our anger?
The Gifts.
one:
From Jane Hirschfield’s poem, Counting, this New Year’s Morning, What Powers Yet Remain to Me:
The poem begins:
The world asks, as it asks daily:
And what can you make, can you do, to change my deep-broken, fractured?
And answers:
I brought salt, brought oil, to the question. Brought sweet tea,
brought postcards and stamps. For four years, each day, something.
Stone did not become apple. War did not become peace.
Yet joy still stays joy. Sequins stay sequins. Words still bespangle, bewilder.
Find the entire poem here.
I find it easier to stumble upon joy when my load is a bit lighter. There is so much right now that I cannot handle nor change. War does not become peace. But I can let go of a grudge.
…
two:
A quick playlist to turn up your kindness thermostat:
…
three:
A lemon tree in the rain… perfect reason to stay in the kitchen and bake a cake.
Upside Down Lemon Cake 🙃
Bottom/Top layer:
1 stick unsalted butter
½ cup plus 2 T sugar
2 large unwaxed lemons, ends trimmed, then halved, seeded, and sliced ⅛ inch thick
Cake:
2½ c all-purpose flour
1 t baking powder
½ t baking soda
½ t kosher salt
2 lg eggs
1 c olive oil
1 c full-fat plain Greek yogurt
¾ c sugar
zest from one lemon
1. Place rack in the center of your oven and preheat to 350°F. Butter a 9-inch round cake pan and line it with parchment paper.
2. In a med saucepan over low heat, melt the butter. Remove the pan from the heat and add ½ cup of the sugar and 2 tablespoons of water. Whisk the mixture until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is glossy and thickened a bit. Pour the melted mixture into the prepared cake pan and smooth into an even layer, covering the bottom. Place the cake pan in the freezer to freeze the butter and sugar layer; leave the pan in the freezer until you are ready to spoon the cake batter into the pan.
3. In a small bowl, gently toss the lemon slices w/remaining 2 T of sugar. Leave the lemon slices in the sugar to macerate for 10 minutes.
4. Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt into a large bowl. Set aside. Combine the eggs with the olive oil in another large bowl and beat vigorously with a whisk until well combined. Add the yogurt and sugar and lemon zest. Make a well in the flour mixture and add the wet mixture in three additions, folding in each addition until no dry bits of flour remain. Set aside.
5. Fan the lemon slices out to cover the melted butter and sugar in the cake pan, overlapping the slices by as much as 1⁄8 inch. Pour the cake batter directly on top of the lemon slices.
6. Bake for about 1 hour, until a cake tester inserted into the center comes out with only a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Transfer to a wire cooling rack and let cool for 15 minutes. Invert the cake onto a serving plate and carefully remove the parchment-paper lining. I dare you to let the cake cool for 1 hour more before serving.
Invite that person over, you know who I mean, the person upon whom you still “grudge.” Or, if that’s a bridge too far, I get it. Cut yourself a thick slice of cake and put down the anger. You don’t have to be friends again, but quite being mad. It’s not good for you. Tuck in to the cake.
I’m filled with light and happiness when I share books, writing tips, and recipes with you. Judging from the lovely comments I get, I believe readers are filled up as well.
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“Joy stays joy” when you hang out with a three-year-old.
If you missed the last few jewels… no fear! Here are a few everyone seemed to love: re: coffee cups. beans. boobs. doors. funny sayings.
To stay in the loop:
Tell your people you love them, and take care of your skin!
Love this!
“smidge-of-smug”- ha! That landed. That’s what sneaks in when I think about *other* people’s anger. The internal audit is usually the best place to start, right?
I really enjoyed reading this, Natalie.