a conversation with my blender.

It was over the sink, while I rinsed out the gooey remnant of peanut butter banana muffin batter, when we started talking. Through that mundane act of repetitive rinsing, it slapped me upside the head like a bag of chocolate chips (optional add-in). Getting the blender fully clean means filling with water, pouring out, rinsing, scrubbing. Not once or twice, but multiple times. While the majority of goo breaks free fairly easily, there are still stubborn spots which take more elbow grease. Sometimes because it’s dried out and caked on. Sometimes because the gunk is in a hard-to-reach crevice. On occasion I’ve gotta get after it with a brillo pad. And sometimes you have to let it soak. For hours. But it’s never fully washed out with one rinse.

This is my life.

It all came to me in about two seconds. I’ve been spending the last couple years…rinsing out my life. Those who know me well will testify to these changes. I’ve washed out hurtful people, dysfunctional relationships, and negative practices. The cleansing water of therapy, yoga, prayer, iron supplements, and trustworthy friends have brought relief. But there are places in my life that are still in need of healing, both physically and spiritually. I have a stubborn spot in my neck/throat that’s bothered me for years. I have a tenacity for holding on to grievances that would be better off released. I’d like to learn how to truly forgive. I’d like to learn how to be less afraid. And what the blender basically shared with me was…rinse and repeat. That’s the only way you get out all the gunk. Rinse…and repeat. And then I thought, seriously? A life lesson from a BLENDER? For real? Why can’t I wash my dishes in peace, in that numbing, quiet place of mind?? In my annoyance, I thought a not-so-pretty adjective about the appliance in hand: “______ blender!” And in that very same moment – I suppose in retribution for my cursing it – that blender bit me. No blood drawn but the tip of the blade sure did make its point. Right into my middle finger (the irony). And immediately on the heels of that exchange, I sensed that gentle inner voice that I attribute to The Spirit say, “Oh, you love it!” And it’s true. I do. I appreciate how the physical world teaches me about that of the spiritual realm. How what I can see teaches me about what I cannot. Plus I don’t mind having conversations with inanimate objects 😉

Life is so much better than two years ago. Than a year ago. Than six months ago. Rinse and repeat. And every time, a little more goo lets loose.

Blender, you know I love you. Let’s make a smoothie later.

3 thoughts on “a conversation with my blender.

  1. Yep….conversations and lessons from the inanimate objects in our life. I love that you recognize, acknowledge and take action on them – and then share with those of us who are {sometimes} choosing not to pay attention on purpose.

  2. Golden, once again. Thank you so much for this message. I too need to learn to let go of grievances and learn to truly forgive. Wash, rinse, repeat. Maybe I’ll be a little cleaner next time. Good lesson.

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