Meatloaf

You thought you hated meatloaf, but you just had never had good meatloaf.

Then it hit you, Wait, I like all the stuff in meatloaf. Why would I not like meatloaf?  

I like what meatloaf is supposed to be.  

You decided that meatloaf itself not bad; poorly-made meatloaf is bad and well-made meatloaf is delicious.

After some research, you learned that meatloaf is not really a set dish but a way to simply and deliciously combine leftover ingredients that need to be used and turn them into something new together.

Once you broke it back down to the ingredients,
tried different recipes,
realized what it really was
and got a taste of what it could be,

you were amazed to find
you loved meatloaf.

My God is like your meatloaf.

Different people in my life and for thousands of years throughout history have cooked up God wrong. Mostly good-intentioned people made God bland or mushy or overcooked or cheap, added incorrect ingredients or just totally misunderstood the whole thing. Worse, bad people used meatloaf for bad reasons and gave people a bad taste in their mouth for even the best meatloaf.

I got sick of the kind of God I was always being fed. But then I broke God back down to the ingredients.

life and love and wholeness
peace and joy and goodness
freedom and empowerment
acceptance and belonging

centeredness
groundedness
a deeper focus
on the few things that really matter

and true connection
to self,
to this moment,
with others
and somehow with reality itself

I even learned new meanings for these words. The ingredients tasted so different when fresh. They weren't loaded anymore with the chemicals, additives and processes others had put on them. They were a new thing entirely, being used in a whole new way.

I tried different versions of God, read about different religions and mindsets and arguments
and eventually decided God didn't fit in a set religion, and that I didn't need a recipe.

God wasn't a set thing, concretely defined
but a way, a source, a force

Much less objective than I had been told,
much less certain
and so much more delicious.

Saturday Shout Out: Thanks for being decent

You say you're an asshole, but I say no. (Must read to the tune of Cupid Shuffle..) Sure, you're a generally grumpy, opinionated, abrasive person, but through and through you are not an asshole.

The best thing about you is that the asshole is just on the surface. At your core, you're simply a decent person.

So many people do the opposite. They wear their nice on the outside, but they don't have a gooey, salted caramel center like you. Inside, hidden away, is their rotten, mushy asshole core. It seeps out, all while they work to keep the outside looking good.

I'm so thankful for all the ways you taught me to be a little more of an asshole on the outside.

You taught me to stand up for myself without budging, without worrying about what other people think or want, or how I'm "supposed" to be. I'm glad you broke through my surface layers, the shell I keep for appearances, to be liked, to please others, to fit.

I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you how thankful I also am for all the ways you taught me to be a little sweeter on the inside. That being right with myself and honest with others is really a kindness to everyone. That fake, outside niceness doesn't mean anything. And that effort for others shouldn't be spent on just anyone because "I should be nice" but that heartfelt effort should be saved up and gifted to those I care about. You also helped me understand how to be a more decent member of society, to know what true decency looks like and how to get deeply pissed off when people aren't being decent to each other. Lastly, while with you I learned how to be more decent to myself, to be honest about what I want and need and to go after it, to do me, to get mine and to take care of myself.

Keeping up my nice shell and living for others didn't make me right with myself or good or whole. It just helped me fit. Sometimes I fit into places I never should have been, and sometimes I forgot myself entirely. I don't want to fit for the sake of fitting anymore. You showed me how to be okay not fitting, and I realized how freeing it is to forget everyone else and be true to myself.

I saw your decency most the night you ended our relationship. You were so unbelievably kind. You were upfront and honest about your feelings right away, like I have known you to be since I met you. Though it would have been easy for a lesser person to put it off, you couldn't even wait until after dinner like you had originally planned. You were clear, to the point, decisive. It's kinder to kill something quickly than drag it out. Your prompt and courageous vulnerability was refreshing. You knew it would be hard and sad no matter how you went about it, so you chose the option hardest for you but kindest to me. You exemplified that brave, rip-the-band-aid-off honesty throughout our relationship. I hope to carry that with me and be a courageously honest person like you.

I've been chuckling to myself about how perfect of a metaphor that pineapple you brought me when you picked me up for our first date ended up being. I'm annoyed at how trendy and everywhere pineapples are right now, but there's a quote going around, "Be like a pineapple: stand tall, wear a crown and be sweet on the inside." I would add, "Be pokey on the outside and a lil' bit tart." You helped me embrace my pineapple in all those ways and more, encouraged me to own all my pokey, eccentric-ness and walk a little taller.

I'm thankful that somehow you came along at just the right time for just the right amount of time. You made me stronger. You made me braver. You made me cooler. You made me funnier. You made me better. You made me more free. You made me more me. You were just what I needed for a time, and I hope in some ways you can say the same of me.

I will be thankful for you for a very long time, likely the rest of my life.

I'm thankful for other things, too. Like all the pop culture you forced upon me, the slang you introduced me to and often had to explain to me, all the times you made me laugh, all the delicious food you cooked for me and countless other good times we had. You taught me a lot, and you helped me realized a lot for myself.

Thank you for these seven months. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for the good food and conversation. Thank you for never once not being yourself. Thank you for seeing and appreciating me. Thank you for challenging me. Thank you for being a good guy, even if you don't fully believe it. Thanks for being decent.