Published Sep 18, 2015
On crisp, autumnal mornings such as these, I look out and ponder where to go to collect bulbs of wild garlic from along the little road, with an eye to setting and tending to them in pots or in my garden beds. I ask myself, would they still be “wild” garlic, or simply cultivars I’m keeping for my own entertainment, like a monkey in a cage?
When I let these little musings flow without interruption or judgment, I know I’ve attained an appropriate level of stress in my life.
I found myself jotting down the above thought this morning in the eye of a mounting storm of bustle and fuss. It’s not that I don’t have stress in my life. It certainly isn’t that I’ve attained the “monk on the mountaintop” phase of existence. But perhaps I have learned to take steps to reduce the stress that multiple sclerosis can pile on top of all the other stuff.
I’m negotiating with an Irish publisher to have Chef Interrupted published here and in the UK. I have two MS Ireland events to emcee (and write scripts for), an article deadline, a local festival event to manage, and the 1996 French Master Chef of the Year is coming to stay with us for six weeks. Stressors? Perhaps…
‘Control Is an Illusion’
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