I had a very heartfelt conversation today with a friend of mine on another continent while we were cooking together, side-stepping the landmines which arise when an ocean is just one of the obstacles between you and family.
We were talking about being independent.
Not that either one of us is single - that's not what it's about. I am a huge proponent of self-awareness. Finding and understanding the boundaries each of us has just makes us better at.... everything. My friend agreed, citing her agreement to move to Lands Unknown with the knowledge that being far from home would be hard, but a new home stood on the horizon if she took the opportunity. She would not give up her language, and she would not give up her love of certain foods, but she would try to make a life in a world not her own.
Finding yourself in new surroundings always prompts a fair amount of introspection. This introspection is brief for some, prolonged for others. The time it takes is far less important than the realities of its outcome. Every time I move, my support systems seem to be limited at best, and my chances to reassess my goals are vast. I shared this observation with my friend, and she wholeheartedly agreed.
I have found time to revive my quilting and hand-stitching, which I have actively pursued in some way since Mrs. McFann taught us how to sew in 1st Grade and my Grandmother suggested my stitches would look nice on her quilt. I have indulged in my desire to conquer certain culinary tasks, not the least of which was recreating a Vietnamese dish whose equal I have yet to find in my new home's vastly different culinary scene. I have pursued all the passions I've carried all my life, including (hopefully) progressing and developing my ability to write.
I love that my life is full, and rich, and developed. My friend and I were exploring that when my friend made a wonderful, funny and thought-provoking observation. "We've been talking for almost an hour, and we have not mentioned our significant others at all."
One of the challenges of my life is that I am *not* my marriage. And I love that. I am me, and this version of me happens to be married. My marriage has not changed my culinary adventurism, my creative drive, or my determination to reach my goals. I stated this, as well as applauding my friend for keeping her priorities and goals the same as well. Again she wowed me with her train of thought. "I love that we are enhanced by our relationships, not defined by them."
Given the opportunity to think this position over, coupled with a bowl of my Cuban black beans and rice with bacon ends, I have some very intense reactions to my friend's words.
I. Love. These. Words.
I pursue sources of knowledge with the same passion, whether the knowledge is contained in a book, a class, a conversation or a friendship. I have a best friend who lives with me. We exist in two difference bodies, and lives, for a reason. We are not the same person. And I love it. The choice to share, and experience, and know life walking alongside another person is something I would never trade. But I am no more committed to my companion than many of my friends are to their pets, or members of their families.
The natural expansion of definition fascinates me. I am a woman, who is married. I am not defined by that status, but I do celebrate it. Just as I celebrate being able to make my own truffles, and as I celebrate knowing the difference between demyelination and dismyelination.
I am me.
I am Me.
I want to share the elation I felt, hearing my friend express empathy and shared experience in being defined by aspects of ourselves which are only a portion of who we are, of what we have to offer. There should be a larger celebration of who we are and what we do.
I don't care if you're married. I don't care if you're single. I don't care who you want to sleep with, or if you want to sleep with anyone at all. Your view of the world is important to me, because it isn't mine. You'll see things I don't, and you can teach me.
I would love for you to teach me what you love.
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