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Today feels like butter. Well, like making butter…deep, emotional, existential conversations bubbling up and coalescing from what seemed like milk-plain, catch-up chats.

I’ve been getting raw milk from the amazing folks at Larga Vista Ranch for a while now, and though it is for my children, usually I end up with more than they need. With my energy reserves so depleted from grieving my mom and sister-in-law, often the milk has become a meal.

Now, it is not that I don’t want to cook. I love cooking…my science/creative geek lives in the kitchen. But fatigue has shoved cooking to the back burner (oh, pun). So I make kefir (like liquid yogurt) or whirl the plain milk into a smoothie with cinnamon, blueberries, and ice.

But there is always more milk, so I’ve also been making butter from the cream on top.

I put it into a mason jar and shake for about ten minutes.

At first, it’s just milk slamming against the top and bottom. But after about six minutes, it gets thicker, harder to shake.

At about eight minutes, it’s so thick I start thinking I put too much cream in the jar. The sides are coated. It feels too full, like it could explode the lid.

But I keep shaking it.

And after another minute or so, it gets easier. I can feel pieces of something moving around inside the jar. The liquid becomes more fluid, not so thick.

And after another minute, I can see inside to gaze upon the glob of beautiful butter.

Right now, this day feels like minute eight, just before the butter comes together, when it seems like I’ve done it all wrong.

I can’t see inside.

My vision is obscured.

Everything is just too thick and full and feels like it’s all going to explode. Pointless.

But life keeps shaking. And then, magic! Butter.

Today, I beg you. Be real. Allow others to be real.

Life is like a million batches of butter being made all at once, all at different stages, simutaneously inside of each and every one of us.

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.” – Anais Nin

We are complex, even when it feels simple. The shaking is just life. The blindness is part of it. Own the muddy, messy, pointless-feeling stages. Just live.

And keep on shaking.

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6 thoughts on “How Today is Like Homemade Butter

  1. Ha! I love this. And it gives a richer, more complex meaning to that phrase describing things as easy or smooth or — I guess — making sense in such an easy and understandable way, “like buttah.”

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