Nowadays breakfast at home consists of two batches of pancakes his and mine. For three and a half years we live in the same apartment, and our walls have grown with compromise. For two and a half years I had made pancakes, from scratch, the same recipe every time:

• • 1¼ cups of wheat flour
  • 2½ tablespoons of pure cane sugar
  • 1 cup and a splash or two of almond milk
  • 2 teaspoons of baking powder
  • 1 tablespoon of olive oil or vegetable oil
  • a drizzle of maple syrup or honey
  • vanilla extract (eh, eyeball it)

My pancakes were the best homemade pancakes Frank had ever tasted, perfectly tanned and fluffy. But then came the day I was busy in the kitchen whipping up a batch and from the living room couch, he spied the almond milk descending into the mixing bowl. Yes, my loves, the almond milk sparked a miniature war.

Him: “Why are you putting almond milk in them.”

Me: “I always use almond milk!”

Him: “You know I don’t like almond milk!”

Me: “You can’t even taste it. You’re only saying something because you saw the almond milk…you’ve never even had my pancakes without almond milk.”

Him: “But I don’t like almond milk.”

Me: “Just last week they were the best pancakes ever, that’s what you tell everyone.”

Him: “I still don’t want almond milk in my pancakes. Can you make mine without it.”

I huffed with all of the I am not going to let this go that I could muster in my voice, “So now I have to make two batches of pancakes…”

The Great Compromise

Needless to say, there is no place in love for war—especially not over almond milk pancakes. I also do not believe in making food without love in your heart. That leaves room for the consumption of bad energy. At the end of the day, it is true, Frank does not like almond milk. It is just as true that I use almond milk because I rarely drink dairy milk. When I can I cook kosher I do. It is also true that making two separate batches of pancake batter was not going to kill me nor was it truly going to require an extraneous amount of energy. Not to mention, now I can add cinnamon, pumpkin spice, blueberries and or whatever else Frankie does not like to my batch.

Perfect relationships of any sort come with many compromises —and require equal give and take. One of the biggest compromises is letting go of your ego for the good of each other. Love has to be the only pendulum that swings between your hearts. I could never expect to live a happy life as a happy consort if Frank cannot expect me to meet a simple request of slightly tweaking a recipe in his favor that I Initially crafted in my own favor never considering his cares or preferences. Love is equitable.

Instructions for perfectly tanned pancakes:

1. Heat nonstick pan on medium heat.
2. Fry pancakes in a nonstick pan with no oil or butter, flip when upside bubbling begins to slow.

P.S. Photos Coming Soon: 

I never think to take pictures of my pancakes before we consume them, so I will have to make a batch and update you all with the recipe and a nice visual in the very near future!

We’ve been praying, we’ve been sowing. Now we’ve crying, heaven send the rain.
We’ve been praying, we’ve been sowing. Now we’ve crying, heaven send the rain. Send the rain

—William McDowell

A dry field produces not an abundance of crops, but a lack of crops. I have been guilty of wishing, praying and demanding, like an intolerant two-year-old, that I am given abundant life. See, it is not the wishing, the praying or even the demanding that creates the guilt trap. No, my fault is assuming and expecting abundance to flow freely to me without effort on my part.

A gardener knows she cannot expect an abundant harvest come Summer if she has not thoroughly tilled her soil. She knows she must properly sow her seeds in the good earth. She comprehends that watering is necessary. Similarly, she allows and encourages her garden to be watered.

Too often we vainly ask for the seemingly impossible. We bombard our Source of all that was, is and will be with empty wishes. These wishes are empty because we often desire not to have to face the rain required to water our seeds. We claim we will do anything and face everything necessary to live the life we desire. Yet  when the storm clouds appear, the thunder rolls and the rain begins to fall, we hide. We complain that the ground is too wet for us to thread. We argue that there is too much rain to see beyond.

Your life is your garden. You can manifest all that you desire. You require rain to bear good fruit. Embrace every drop from every storm and your life will harvest abundance.

—♥Egypt

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

—Robert Frost

I may never have the necessary quantity of words, nor the gravity of profound articulation or even the ability to allow my hand to dance so fervently over this glass paper to tell you how heavy my heart has been; and yet still, how light I have only just begun to feel—but I can gift to you my journey, my love thus far and henceforth in hopes that you will be able to translate and transcribe that which falls within the spaces between my words and that which tarnishes these pages forever and 80 years.

For more on my own journey back to confidence, self-esteem and self-worth head over to Geiko Skin ♥

I have spent a lot of time in darkness searching for that which I know is necessary. In it, I found all that I needed and the keys to so much more.

I am on a journey. You are on a journey. We are all on a journey—both, uniquely and collectively. When the going gets tough and the way becomes unclear there are things that you will always need and one thing that is always so good to have. You need the proper navigational toolbox and a basic users manual—and you will be elated to have some good company along the way who desires that you find your way out of your darkness beaming brighter than before you ascended into your abyss.

♥

For more on nurturing your confidence and finding the keys to yourself check out the categories: SELF & #Teaspiration Thursdays.

Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Over the course of many seasons, I have learned to dance the ballet of patience. When Spring begins her rise above the horizon we begin to sow our good seeds. Mother nature’s seeds that dropped in Autumn and lay dormant though Winter take up root. When Summer ascends all Spring sowings and roots bud and ripen, and we start harvesting. Then comes Summer’s Eve, and we take to sowing and planting that which will be harvested as the leaves commence to falling. Autumn’s beginnings mark its ending as we harvest what is good and start preparing for the time of resting, reflecting, and preparing. We welcome Winter with the Winter Solstice — the dying of the Sun on the Southern Cross or Crux constellation. Know, even our Sun has patience as it rests at its lowest point for three days before beginning its rise on what we call Christmas Day. Our days begin to lengthen once more foreshadowing Spring’s return. We lay in patience and in wait just as those seeds which fell in Autumn.

Welcome to Spring! May your harvest this year be abundant!

—♥Egypt