Today I conquered the deli counter. My piece-meal German got me salami, cheese, and pickle on a kaiser roll. Victory. For six months the deli counter has been like the princess locked in the tower, waiting for me to save her. But there are so many choices, hundreds of meats, cheeses, and salads; I have to order in deca-grams (if you know what that is, please tell me), I have to speak a language that baffles me most of the time, and I have to do it all…. very fast. There is no patience for dawdling here, from the moment they say “bitteshoen,” they want you to know what you want and how much.
But I love food. I would even venture to say that I’m a “foodie.” Not in the snobby sense but in the I-like-food-more-than-my-children sense (I’m kidding of course, I think). Needless to say, good food is important to me. But the deli counter was a giant obstacle of the “I’m not sure I can do this” variety. For me to fast from the deli counter when I live in a place that practically invented mish-mash meat and mystery sausage is ridiculous (I’m a fan of both mish-mash meat and mystery sausage by the way). For me to give up good food and replace it with fear is sad.
Fear is such a powerful thing. One thing I have learned in recent years is that I have more fear than many other traits; more fear than talent, more fear than righteousness, more fear than love, more fear than resourcefulness. I’m not trying to put myself down, but sometimes it’s true. And I don’t like it.
So when I read Rynell Lewis’ “Give” in our most recent issue, I somehow felt calmed that wholeness (peace, progression) comes “like thick honey dripping sweet” in “slow teaspoons of honest light.” Even in tragedy and drama and ups and downs, in losing babies and homes, in grocery stores and basements, wholeness comes. Relentlessly asking us to sit down. And eat.
love it. i fear too, but oh, how i eat. nice to know it’s good for something.
So, what did you order?
Yikes. Fear is too real for me to talk about yet. And what did you order?
Wow, Maralise! I love that the deli counter was such a fearful thing and that you did it! I relate far too much to having more fear than talent, love, righteousness . . . all of those. I know that “Perfect love casteth out all fear,” but too often fear stands at the forefront of my mind and heart, blocking that love with amazing strength.
“Give” was beautiful, though painful. Wholeness does come.
This is a fantastic post! I seriously think that living abroad is one of the best things you can do to conquer a lot of fear.
And a decagram is 10 grams. So I think if you said 1 decagram, you would mean that you wanted 10 grams of something. I hope that helps!
I did the same in Ukraine. I learned how to say “half a kilo” of everything and that is what I got for about the first year. Half a kilo of meat, half a kilo of cheese. The fun started when I learned how to say “can I try that?” and I was trying all kinds of cheese. And I didn’t have to get half a kilo by then either. Thank goodness.
I love the way you approach the Segullah article discussions.
If you really want to know, a decagram is 10 grams, like a decade of grams. Grams by themselves are kind of useless for ordering food, since a gram weighs less than a penny.
So, how many decagrams of salami did you liberate from the deli? princess locked in a tower, heh.
Tronchik, I love your “half a kilo” story.
fwiw, a quarter pound (4 oz) is between 11 and 12 decagrams.
During the three months I lived in England I was afraid, and I didn’t have the language barrier to contend with. I couldn’t count out the money fast enough, I backed up traffic and parked crooked as I tried to navigate those teeny tiny parallel parking spaces, I wore blue jeans and glaringly white tennis shoes that screamed “AMERICAN AMERICAN”. Three months of public nervousness, for sure.
I’ve decided, though, that I need to consistently push myself to do things that scare me (or make me feel stupid, which is something else that so many of us spend looots of energy trying to avoid.) This is why I regularly attend the “Total Conditioning” class at my local Lifetime Fitness class and clomp around sweating and heaving while a bunch of 100 pound boob-jobbed hotties jump onto and off of their bosu balls as nimbly as a pack of cheetas. (If I could, I would embed a link that would show you a picture of a bosu ball, for those of you who have not made its acquaintance, but I can’t figure out how to do it. Sorry.)
Anyway, great post, great poem. Thanks Mara & Rynell.
Okay, one more thing. I want to post my favorite fear poem of all time. It’s by Audre Lorde, and it’s called “Litany for Survival.”
A LITANY FOR SURVIVAL
For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:
For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.
And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive
- Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn
Ok here’s the menu: I ordered a……sandwich. That saves me from slaughtering the deca gram thing. On my sandwich I got(because I was scrambling to find the word salami on anything) Wild Schweinfleisch Salami with Emmentaler cheese and a “Gurken” or pickle. The deli counters are fantastic here because you can pick any combination of meat and cheese and they will make you a sandwich on a “semmel” or roll.
After I left and was eating the sandwich on the bus, I wished I would have ordered two. Bummer, well there’s always today! Right!
Angela–I wonder if my fear is not so much about the language but about looking stupid. Ever since Junior High, looking stupid is practically a cardinal sin in my rather abnormal psyche. I think I need to get over that.
Thanks for the math Johnna. New Goal–order in decagrams next time I’m at the counter. Yes. I can do it.
I wonder if I can ask them to taste things here? That would be awesome. I might never leave the deli counter if that’s the case. Tronchik–have you read David Sedaris’ “Me Talk Pretty One Day?” He talks about how he ordered two of everything when he was in France so he wouldn’t have to remember the gender of each item. Until it got too expensive and then his partner took over all the shopping. It’s great. “Jesus Shaves” is also hilarious.
One thing I worried about when I wrote the post was somehow deemphasizing the seriousness and beauty of Rynell’s poem. So, please read it. It has so much more depth than what I alluded to.
I loved both your post and Rynell’s poem. Lately I’ve been feeling a great deal of, for lack of a better word, inquiet.
So I hung on to the word “wholeness” in her poem with all my heart and appreciated the admonition to “hold on and wait.”
Giving is truly a moving and beautiful poem. While it speaks of giving up children in the moments just after birth there are so many other ways and times to lose children and other loved ones that it speaks to the experience of every woman who has ever loved. I read it and weep. But, then I am feeling teary today, anyway.
The post brought on some nice comments. I like the poem Angela added, thanks for that. That’s an awesome story where the author bought two of everything in France. Haha. I’ve had that experience many times where you settle for something else simply because you don’t know how to ask for what you really want. Haha. Russia was bad for that. If I were so worried about gender here in Brazil I’d have to buy three of everything because in Portuguese “two” also changes with gender. Haha.