I like to think I have a strong head on my shoulders. One that is reasonable and non-judgmental and open. I’m extremely liberal. Especially considering my conservative upbringing. The first concert I attended was for the Christian rapper Carman. (“Who’s in the house? JC is!”) I was in church a minimum of three days a week. Certain channels that were on my cousin’s television didn’t exist on the TVs in my home. Chase still can’t accept the fact that I’ve never seen the movie “Varsity Blues” which explains why I don’t understand the new car commercial with James Van Der Beek.
I wouldn’t have changed a thing about the way I was raised. Some of my best qualities are a direct result of Mountain Grove Baptist Church and prayers before bed. To a certain degree, I lived eighteen years in a small town bubble. Shielded from heartbreak. Pitying my friends who were suffering through their parent’s divorce. Oblivious that a boy could like another boy. And then one day, that bubble unexpectedly popped and I became exposed to a completely different world filled with imperfect people making risky decisions and hiding well-guarded secrets. For the five years that followed my high school graduation, I was in life’s fast lane. Since everything I thought I knew was a facade, I felt this sense of responsibility to be the stabilizer and to not shake things up more than they had already been rattled. I pressured myself to do everything in the exact order that people expected. Go to college. Get a job. Buy a house. Get married. And I did.
I’m a thinker by nature. I decipher song lyrics. I analyze people’s behavior to try and hypothesize the root of their actions. I often think about where I was last year at this exact moment and where I’ll be next year on this same date. I secretly wanted some insight without completely removing the element of surprise and decided to talk to an intuitionist. I promise I’m not completely crazy. I just wanted to hear a stranger’s take on my life and the direction I’m going. A girlfriend had told me about this woman she talked to and was blown away by her accuracy. The excitement and validity in my friend’s voice was contagious and I knew I had to have a session.
My first experience seeing a psychic was a joke. It was my birthday. I had spent the day at a winery and was a little (a lot) tipsy. At the end of our ten minutes I was stupidly surprised she knew how old I was until I played back the session I had secretly recorded and realized the second sentence out of my mouth was my birthday, including year. This time around was legitimate. Talking with this intuitionist was on a completely different level. I spent one hour conversing with a stranger and hearing her talk so candidly about my family and me made me feel as if she had been a fly on the wall during our private conversations. She offered precautions like advising I do a better of job of paying attention while driving because she sensed I’d be involved in a traffic accident while texting and driving. The conversation offered hope that I’m fulfilling my life’s passion. It gave encouragement to finally write that book my friends and family have been pressuring me to do for years. It gave me a sense of closure that sometimes the only thing we can do is send love and light in the direction of someone struggling with their own happiness. I took four pages of notes. Notes that I intend to keep and evaluate in the future. Notes that encourage me to do the things I’ve been putting off, try something new and finally face those decisions I’ve been dragging.
Maybe I drank the Kool-Aid. Maybe I took my critical thinking a step too far. Maybe I looked in the wrong place for answers. I’m not trying to convince you to follow my path. I’m merely recounting my experience and confirming that a lot of what she had to say was concrete and specific and kind of blew my mind. Who am I to judge whether or not she has the ability to actually connect with my energy? She could have been just blowing smoke but I inhaled it. It’s a lot more fun to believe than it is to be a Negative Nancy.
Perhaps you don’t believe in psychics or intuitionists or those sort of voodoo things. That’s perfectly ok. You should, however, believe that the below guacamole recipe is one of the best north of the equator. I whipped this up during a mexican feast at the Erwin household recently and received rave reviews. Here’s to growing up slow or fast, easy or hard and double dipping in some amazing guacamole along the way.
3 Haas avocados, halved, seeded and peeled
1 lime, juiced
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 medium onion, diced
1/2 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
2 Roma tomatoes, seeded and diced
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
1 clove garlic, minced
1. In a large bowl place the scooped avocado pulp and lime juice, toss to coat. Drain, and reserve the lime juice, after all of the avocados have been coated.
2. Using a potato masher add the salt, cumin, and cayenne and mash. Then, fold in the onions, jalapeno, tomatoes, cilantro, and garlic. Add 1 tablespoon of the reserved lime juice.
3. Let sit at room temperature for 1 hour and then serve. Encourage your guests to scream “Holy Guacamole!”