A Motto Is Born

Just as every adventure needs a theme song (if you don't know what ours is, see the last post), it also needs a motto.  You know, that little mantra to repeat to yourself to lift the spirits when things take a turn for the worse or when motivation is needed to get one's tired, aching feet up the next hill.  "Eat Pray Love" was an admirable attempt, sure, but it's no "Sauce Taste Toss."  You heard me right.  "Sauce Taste Toss." 

So right now you're wondering: a.) Has Blackheart lost her mind?; b.) How can those three words have anything remotely to do with one another; and most importantly, c.) What in the name of Camino does it all mean?  Okay, so bear with me as we plunge head first into a convoluted, yet insightful and poignant metaphor...

As I walked into my yoga class this evening, I came in with an Gregory Deva Backpack full of emotions and anxiety.  Not literally, of course.  I don't even want to look at my backpack until we leave on Saturday.  I have it sitting in the corner of the vacant upstairs bedroom like a naughty child in a dunce cap.  No, I mean, I walked into yoga feeling weighed down by everything I'm feeling as we draw closer to our grand departure.  Every morning it's a new sensation.  A new fear.  A new apprehension to greet the dawn with.  I honestly had no clue I could be such a pit of emotions.  Who knew the well ran that deep?! 

Miss Jade

Today was particularly difficult, having just driven home from my San Diego road trip to drop Jade off at the kitty sitter for three months.  I was doing alright until I walked into my room with all of her stuff gone.  The place looked barren.  Sad.  Lonely.  And, BAM!  Tears.  I felt like a mother whose child had left for college.  Will she write?  Send the occasional email?  Did I buy her enough mousies to last the quarter?  Enough spending cash for salmon-flavored Greenies?  That overwhelming sensation compacted with my unending workload and growing list of To-Dos and, suddenly, I thought my head would explode.  My stomach cramped.  My heart hurt.  I started popping Tums and aspirin like Tic-Tacs before a first date kiss. 

Then, yoga...  Finally, some quiet.  Some relief.  But as I was trying desperately to focus on the two-minute mediation, an odd vision popped into my head (and if you're worried this blog is taking a turn for the 'Shirley MacLaine', don't fret.  The vision is a one-time deal.  Promise.)  And the vision was?  An artichoke. 

It was somehow clear as day what it meant; although I'm certain you're currently scratching your head.  All these emotions and distresses were simply leaves of a steamed (or roasted, why not) artichoke.  And all I needed to do was sauce, taste and toss.  In other words, look each anxiety straight in the eye, deal with it and then let it go forever.  Take that first leaf of my guilt over ditching my kitty, dip it in Special Sauce (a mix of mayo and soy sauce which, believe me, makes melted butter look practically archaic), scrape it off with my teeth and then toss the damn leaf in the bowl.  Take the worry over not having a career when I get home, sauce it, taste it, toss it.  Rip off that leaf of fear about not having a place to sleep each night on the trail, sauce it, taste it, toss it.  Take the anxiety over my recent bout of knee pain, sauce it, taste it, toss it!

Sounds awfully repetitive and, yes, it's an odd motto for a trip.  But you know what happens when you keep saucing and tasting and tossing an artichoke?  You finally, finally get to that delicious, mouth watering, much coveted, artichoke heart center.  With all the bitter leaves tossed aside, you find yourself gloriously face-to-face with the joy and excitement of adventure that is the heart of this journey. 

Now sauce it, taste it and savor the goodness...