Le Brownie Ecstasy

I overeat. Or at least I used to. I'd sit at the school lunch table, self-consciously tucking my pant waist over my fat roll while hoping none of the popular tooth-pick girls watched. I'd sigh as I opened my Rainbow Bright lunch box. Then, fingering the cellophane wrappers, I'd bypass the dried out carrot-sticks and head straight for the brownie. I'd tear open the plastic wrapper like I hadn't eaten in days, glance right and left and then sink my teeth into that succulent chocolate.

The moment the brownie touched my lips, the chatter and giggles in the school lunch room faded into the ceiling tiles. Faces disappeared and the room filled with white fluffy clouds. Sirens sang and strummed their harps. I was in my happy place, where bunnies hopped and birds chirped. Yes, I'm being serious. Brownies did that to me.

I still remember the feeling of relief chewing gave me. For the first time that day, I didn't care that I sat alone-I had my brownie and that was enough.


Don't feel sorry for me. I used to appreciate sympathy for not being popular; but really, it's how my passion for food started. I should thank those skinny girls that I didn't talk to. From them, I understood that food-in all of its comfort-is always there for me with no expectation to impress. Food, brownies in particular, still make me feel good about myself-inducing a moment of ecstasy on my palate. They take me to that magical place where I'm soaring through the sky and bouncing on clouds. (And I'm not talking about those brownies you'd eat at a party. I don't need them-chocolate is enough to do that to me.) Food is a passion and no longer a way to avoid the unfriendly.

Today, I ate a brownie at the work lunch table. I caught myself glancing right and left. But these days my paranoia takes aim at something different: I do not like sharing brownies. I've learned how to contain my brownie ecstasy to a blank stare, so no one will be curious and ask for a bite. Some days I save my brownie for when nobody is around. That way there is no risk of being asked to tear off 'just a little piece.' Maybe I'm selfish, but at least I know my boundaries.

I live 1500 miles away from my mother. If I'm lucky enough when I come for a visit, these brownies are sitting on her kitchen counter, waiting for their best friend. I think they're magical in many ways. When my mother and I agree on nothing else, these brownies sooth our misunderstandings; reminding us that while we all have our own opinions, we are still connected as human beings-even if it is only by a brownie. One taste and I'm reminded that everything will be OK.

Best Brownies- from Hershey's Classic Recipes

• 1/2 cup butter, melted


• 1 cup sugar


• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract


• 2 eggs


• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour


• 1/3 cup Hershey's Cocoa


• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder


• 1/4 teaspoon salt


• 1 batch of Creamy Brownie Frosting

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease 9 inch square baking pan. In one bowel, stir butter, sugar and vanilla. Then beat in eggs, one at a time-set aside. In another bowel, stir flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt. Once blended, combine with butter/sugar mixture. Spread into prepared pan. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until edges separate from pan. Cool and then spread with frosting.

Creamy Brownie Frosting

• 3 tablespoons butter, softened


• 3 tablespoons Hershey's Cocoa


• 1 tablespoon honey


• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract


• 1 cup powdered sugar


• 1-2 tablespoons milk

While brownies bake, prepare frosting. Beat together butter, cocoa, honey and vanilla. Gradually add powdered sugar and milk (add more of less milk for desired thickness). Blend well and top brownies once cooled.

These brownies are my treasure at the end of the rainbow. If I found a pot of gold I'd be happy, but a little frustrated that it took the place of these brownies.

Perspective

I take a walk in the woods to clear my head. Hoping that for an hour, time won't matter. I find a tree and lay under it, smelling the sweetness of the soft flowered grass. There is a lake and I hear geese splash, refreshing themselves in between lags of their long journey. Highlights of red, yellow and orange-the colors of autumn-shimmer on the lake's glassy surface. The tree I'm under is profound, its power shown by the thickness of it's core and the length of it's limbs; cradled by blue sky. The sun radiates through its branches, leaving each leaf illuminated-shinning in their glory.

I'm in a wide-open space. Vulnerable to what Mother Nature brings, but I feel safe. Safer then when I'm in my home with ceilings, walls and a locked door. The landscape is expansive and I'm just one amidst the trees and animals living here. I'm an unseen visitor, seeking refuge in the natural world. Somehow though, I feel I am a part of the land surrounding me.

I'm envious of the squirrels that jump in the tree on the branches above. They have no clothes, no money, no job, no refrigerator or stove and no savings account. They live with freedom. Their home is the tree, so they do not worry.

Chirping echoes through the tree and resonates in me sounds of a lullaby heard long ago. I am calm and my breath is deep. My eyes lull shut by the power of the warm sun. I hear the rustling of leaves, but my attention shifts towards a dream. In my dream, I am a child again lying on summers grass under a tree.

My eyes flit open. They squint towards my wrist, but I have no watch. I look at the tree branches-leaves illuminated-seeing something that wasn't there before I dreamed. Something beautiful. Something I'd seen years ago. My body does not move, so I stare through the trees watching it. Sensing its power, hearing its laughter, feeling its love-it's familiar. My senses form it's shape and my memories tell me what it is.

A watermark, I'm told is always there but not seen until studied in the light. It's imprinted on documents to prove their authenticity. It validates dollars, passports and identifies counterfeit. In this case, it's the essence of a human being. In this moment, I am seeing my watermark, when the world is still and I am alone. It has been years.

I gather my belongings to leave. As I walk away, I look up and see my watermark still there radiating among the illuminated leaves. Someone whispers, "Stop hiding it." I turn towards the whisper; my hat blows off in the wind. No one is there.

I feel the corners of my mouth turn up as I look towards the sky. Staring at birds flying in the blue space, I realize that I must live defined by my watermark. I need to see it each day, hear its wisdom and trust in its abilities-lending myself to it's power. I must submit...

...because it is the essence of me and where the One that created me resides.