Stress Blinders

It never ceases to amaze me when someone is incapable of seeing something. Not in terms of medical or legal blindness, but rather intellectual blindness, whereas the cerebral machine of perception is not functioning properly. The complexity of human vision and consequent perception, is an incredible process that goes beyond mere data transmission of light's imagery conveyed along neural circuitry to the brain to be deciphered. This overstated simplicity is erroneous. Even before we see (in our brains) what we see, we have decided whether it is important for us to see it in the first place. As a matter of fact 90% of collected light data never even makes it to the brain (Richard Gregory 1970). What's equally as fascinating is that for all the impulses that go to the brain an equal amount are sent back to the eye! It's not just a receptor, its part of the processor. The eye's not solely a collector, but a processor in the hypothesis generator that defines our perceptions. Rules, conceptual knowledge, and environs play a major role in what your brain lets you see.

“Our perceptions not any objective reality govern our emotional response and resulting behavior. Perceptions are based on beliefs, assumptions, values and conditioning.” (Dr. Valeri O’Hara PHD)

Our focus in a given environment is the attended stimulus, typically familiar things and/or novel things; things that we want to see. And what about all those things we don’t want to see? Well, that’s where stress kicks in, but suffice to say 85% of the things we worry about never even happen anyway, but that doesn’t mean we're not capable of not seeing it if we think it’s a threat. As Saul McLeod stated in 2008, “Perceptual processes are not direct”, it’s a psychological exchange.

It was one of those days in the kitchen. The typical bustle of food prep was going on, accompanied by the sights, sounds, and smells of the day's menu. However, a moment arose when my senses perceived that something might be going wrong. Lingering in the air was the aroma of very hot fryer fat...real hot...too hot. Accompanied by the sound of a cook's knife cutting potato batons for the french fries the oil was heating for. Without getting into too much culinary terminology, it should suffice to say that the oil was overheated for the intended task and was now at the point of being dangerous.

In an attempt to forego the looming disaster I made my way towards the smoldering station. The chopping stopped.

“CRACKLE, CRACKLE, CRACKLE !”, too late, the cook dropped the fries into the overheated fat before I could get there. And then it stopped.

As I approached the station the cook came darting out and headed towards the back of the kitchen. I changed my direction to follow. What I heard caused me much concern.

“Shrunch, shrunch, shrunch…”, the sound of someone digging into the ice bin.

“My God, this was going to be bad.”, I thought as I envisioned the burn that oil at that temp might inflict. Again the sound stopped and the cook emerged… carrying the aforementioned ice in two secured ziplock bags. I would expect as much if someone received a burn, but the way they were carrying them did not imply they were being applied to a wound, but rather for transport.

“Are you ok?”, I questioned the cook.

“Yes Chef.”

“Then what is the ice for?”, I continued.

Silence.

I glanced at the bags and at the cook. I glanced at the bags and then at their station. I glanced again at the cook, then the bags, then the station, and back to the cook again.

“You’re not going to cool off that fryer with a ziplock bag of ice...are you?”, I could barely believe I formed those words together into a serious inquiry of one of my cooks.

Again, silence.

By now I was a little perturbed that something so seriously dangerous was even being considered, but more so by the tacit response.

“Do you know what going to happen when you drop ice into a smoking pot of fat?”, My voice a little elevated.

“That thing is going to erupt...throwing scalding hot fat straight up into your face...YOU’D BE DEAD!”

Again silence while the cook finally began the finally arrived-at contemplation.

And I must say, the response was well worth the wait...Here it comes….wait for it…

“But Chef,” they began….”That’s why it’s in the bag.”

Perception is our personal relationship between our mind's conceptualization and the attenuation of the physical world around us. It is formed by our beliefs (pessimism, optimism, feeling of control, and ability to handle stress). Perception does not solely lie in the information present in the stimulus, but rather our expectations of where we feel we are within it. So every once in awhile, you might find it worthwhile (and life preserving) to take a step back, be consciously aware of where you are and what you are doing, and gain some needed perspective.

Time to Reflect

There are points in life when we seem to reflect on time’s passing; a birth, a death, a change of season, a change of life. Although “time passing” is a concept I find humorous, as we (the temporal) attempt to define or pigeonhole time (the eternal), it is nonetheless a standard of regulation in our lives, and one that traditionally outlines our place in the grand scheme. So, periodically given ‘time’ to reflect (that is to say is that an opportune moment, give or take 90 seconds), to gauge present with the past and consequent effects on the future has arrived. An opportunity in that past and future are far enough apart where the gap allows me sufficient “time” to reflect, something most of us lack. Time, some say, is our most precious resource, in that there is not enough of it. I argue time is our most abundant resource, all around us and inescapable...eternal. It allows all other things to be realized, comparatively. When it comes right down to it, we have all the time we need;  we are awash in it.

Subjectively, however, time is thought to be elusive and predatory. French Philosopher Gaston Bachelor spoke  to this common notion when he said, “ If our heart was large enough to love life in all its detail, we would see that every instant is at once a giver and a plunderer.” Time flies and time drags on. Relatively speaking, pun intended, a moving clock is a slower keeper of time, dilating our perception of this commodity. The faster you move the longer you have, scientists theorize...this coincides with psychological conceptualizations that the more we recall, the longer our life appears, while when recollection fails us, we perceive a shortness or rapidity of time's movement through our lives; and we tend to recall the exciting stuff, elongating that continuum of our lives. Oppositely, when we anticipate or painfully await something, it seems to slow time, or make it take longer; studies show prolonged waiting actually lessens satisfaction. Often referred to as temporal discounting, this reality shows us how a year from now seems further away than a year ago. I’ve learned much working in this industry and if I can say anything remotely anecdotal it would be this, you cannot escape the now, it’s already happened. Depends on your perception and temporal distortions.

It was another day in the kitchen and we were bustling getting ready for service. Time was flying as we ticked off the list and assembled the mise en place for the upcoming service. It was going well. Keyword, going. In a shake things changed, a toppled bain marie of cooking fat, in this case clarified butter, spilled onto a hot cooking surface and erupted into an inferno. Not good. Aside from the disruption of the time needed to prepare, this situation warranted the evacuation of the kitchen. Most people run out of a kitchen on fire (ok all people). It is not the kind of place anyone wants to be, especially when it's filling with smoke and flames. I must admit there's something anomalous about a Chef; a quality of temporal distortion whose calm and composure can actually slow time. It was rather bizarre walking down the line with the fire extinguisher in hand, slow motion, kitchen personnel flowing by as I made my way in.  The flames looked almost standstill. I wasn’t moving fast, but I was moving. And in an instant, with the pull of the trigger, “WHOOOOSH”, it was over.

“Chef! Are you OK?!? That was crazy!” The cooks began to comment as they re-entered.

“Sure, fine, let’s clean this up and get back to business."

"That was crazy! It was so quick and surreal. Weren't you scared?"

And with that the clock resumed.

"Quit your worries, clean this up...we got customers coming soon."

Measuring time is like weighing a pig to make it fatter. As if by measuring it, we could possibly control it.  Like marking trees on a trail we know we will never pass by again, time is best judged when aligning it with motion; clocking the movement of the sun’s shadow, the ticking hand of a clock, the rapid change of a digital chronometer. Those measurements only reveal the tick of the device itself, and (as much as we would like to think that device tells us of where we are in the Block Universe of eternity) only screams out the reality of “Now, now, now”. Can we change it? I think so.  Wanna slow it down? Stay calm and keep from exciting the temporal strings.  Wanna   speed it up?  Add some excitement. But all in all realize it is all still part of the same eternal block of space time that always existed. You're just changing you and your now in it.

So to get to that one thing I've learned, no matter how hard I try or how fast I hurry I am always exactly where I am. Time a predator...or elusive? I say, "No". Not so, Gerard.  If our hearts were large enough to love life in all its detail, we would see time for what it truly is, eternal; and we are therefore compelled to leave our whispers echoing through its vastness.

The Perfect Woman

I figure it’s a good day for a love story, more specifically, how I met the perfect woman. I know what you’re thinking, there is no perfect person. Statistically though it could be argued that finding the perfect person aligns itself with seeking out someone with thoughtful, synchronous life values; translation, something in common. When studies examine successful marriages lasting over twenty years there appear some telling signs, success can be leveraged by thoughtful shared values. Starting with 40% having common friends, shared social values. 40-50% having gone to highschool together while 65-80% having attended college together; increased intellectual values increasing success rates. These numbers proceed with 60% from colleges of religious instruction and 70% from colleges with technical instruction displaying increasing success rates with vocational life values. So while you may argue the perfect person may not exist, the odds are the perfect person exists for you somewhere where you share common ground.

I too was presented with an opportunity to embrace a perfect person in my world, and my position that humanity and all it’s mortal participants are imperfect was turned on its head; as one would imagine when love is at the center. To experience a moment of transcendence whence our person brushes up against the inimitable. When our spatio-temporal existential mind gets blown by the realization of something capable of breaking through the veil of our proud blindness to illuminate our citizenry amidst eternal perfection. Such moments are mind altering. Realization of perfection, movement towards the ideal, realization of your place in it all despite your own imperfections. Ahhhh, Love. Mankind's closest thing to the eternal nonpareil.

Perfect woman? Can such a person exist? Indeed, especially once you understand the nature of perfection. Exactly what is needed. This person completed me, challenged me, blessed me and drove me towards the perfection I know exists in the universe. The notion that perfection cannot be achieved is not only sadistic, but wholly unrealistic. Such a notion would not only cause us to give up the search, but hope eternal as well. That is indeed what I thought, it is indeed what I had been told, a truth I readily accepted and lived with until faced with this paragon. Perfect isn’t the person, it’s the relationship...It’s not how you feel or react emotionally, but how you willfully act purposefully, who they cause you to be. Haven’t found it yet? Here’s a clue...it’s you, not them. Sure there isn’t “perfect” by universal standards, but universal standards aren’t personal now are they?  Perfection is finding someone who causes you to act like they are perfect. Perfect ? Sure it exists, keep looking.  Happy Valentine’s Day to all, I hope you find your perfect mate. Step one; start looking in the right spot.

The Worst Kind of Fall

We live in a world where we are constantly surrounded and being reminded by success stories. We watch, we hear, we emulate, but do we really know what success for ourselves really looks like? Is it solely about the winning? The prize? The accolades? I offer my opinion in one word for you to ponder...No. There are plenty of those who have won, grabbed the prize, received the praise, and where are they? Has the one with the most toys really won? They made it to the top, but how did they proceed afterwards. Quite often “winners” effulgence fade, and fade quick, unable to handle finally freeing the carrot from the end of the stick. Lotto winners, superstars, and one hit wonders, litter our landscape, displaying more characteristics of losers than that which we associate with successful winners. Once at the top, they fall.

What’s then is the point of achieving success, ascending to dizzying heights? Surely many have experienced it without subsequent misery. Let me relay this metaphorically using more special relativity, one displaying painful planning and execution, climbing a mountain, specifically the Matterhorn. At a height just short of 15000 ft and first ascended by Edward Whymper in 1865. The Matterhorn, aside from being one of the world's most iconic mountains is also a psychological condition. The Matterhorn Syndrome is attributed to those who fail once achieving success. Aptly named, a surprising half of all climbing fatalities (41.2% between 1951-2006) in mountain climbing are from the descent after conquering the climb. As a matter of fact 4 of Whymper’s crew died coming down after his successful climb. When we’re climbing we’re trying, but once we succeed we tend to let our guard down. Quite often we place too much emphasis on the climb towards our goals and neglect what to do afterward. And recoiled with all that potential ensuing overconfidence comes, and the inevitable; the fall. So, before you assume you are on solid ground, assess your surroundings and act soberly. To quote St. Paul, “let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.” 1Cor 10:12.

I would be remiss if I didn’t share a climb to the top I experienced, and the subsequent falling down upon success.

It was a few weeks before my graduation, I was filled with much of the same emotions of moving on and grabbing the world by the horns and showing what I was made of as most college graduates. But, I had something fresh in my toolkit, something that cannot be taught, only learned...a fresh failure, a deep wound. As our class hit restaurant row, the final stop in our culinary training, summer was bringing out the adventurist in all of us and we chose to pass out free time in between classes enjoying hiking the local mountains. One such day a few friends and myself found ourselves at the summit of one of the local hills after a grueling footrace to the top. We were always a bit competitive as you can imagine and our wagers usually entailed who did or did not pay for the evening's libations and or put in the monies needed to procure the meal to accompany them. And today was no different and as we sat at the summit discussing the night’s menu of sparkling wines, fiddleheads and crustaceans.

It soon became apparent that this was not going to be an inexpensive loss by any means.

So, when we began our race to the bottom, there was a lot on the line.

Needless to say, I was winning. I love winning. My years of distance running and downhill skiing morphed into a combination style somewhere between cross country and mogul jumping, and was paying off greater than my friends’ Tarzan emulations. With the end in sight I began to fantasize about the night’s feast. And that’s when it hit me….the ground! As my ankle caught some gravel, turned my foot upside down and threw me headlong to the ground, the sole of my shoe perfectly visible to me as my momentum was slowed by the gravel . Ouch. I didn’t plan for that.

Quite often we have a plan to succeed, but then what. Do you have a plan for all that built up kinetic energy upon reaching the pinnacle; what to do with all that potential energy? Or are you destined to let nature complete your hyperbolic journey. Too many times the ambulance is sent to the bottom of the mountain when an itinerary at the top would suffice. So when facing those mountains in life, be careful and plan your steps both up and down. Not that falling is bad, great lessons are learned on your face in the gravel, but in the moments following a victory it's unpleasantness is greatly amplified.  Therefore, don’t let success go to your head. Don’t let up until you're safely done. Don’t just plan to climb the mountain, plan to make it back and tell people you did it. And if I may drop a quote here to conclude, “People don’t plan to fail, they fail to plan”. Well said John Beckley, well said.

"Lucky" Me

I’ve never been a proponent of luck. I will quite often go out of my way, when others might chime in with the expected “good luck” I often surprise people with a quite contrary statement, “I won’t insult you by wishing you luck”. Luck is a myth.

And as scientifically and rationally debunked as luck has been, it is still touted as the rational person’s response to their own relative standings. Bad luck is the scapegoat for...  lack of control in one’s own direction and ability, disavowing others success to rationalize your inadequacies, and relinquishing ownership of our failures because things are simply not your fault.

Scientific reasoning, as seen in Newton’s third law, clearly shows causality explains results; every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Hit a drum, make a noise. Hear a noise, twitch a muscle. Twitch a muscle, spill your coffee...on your lap. This is not bad luck, you're just not properly evaluating all of the variables in your environment that concluded in that moment's causality. Good luck has its own confused superstitious, coincidental logics. Four leaf clovers, lucky rabbits feet, blowing on dice, playing your birthday lotto numbers are all just as likely to influence events as me declaring my coffee mug keeps away tigers (it does, I’ve never encountered one while drinking my coffee).

Whatever the common consensus, I happen not to believe in luck. In fact, quite the opposite; I believe in working hard, being prepared and bettering your own odds. Or as some would say, making one’s own luck. To quote the great 21st century philosopher Jon Bon Jovi, "luck ain't lucky, gotta make your own breaks."

Coincidentally, studies show luck (more specifically good luck), relates directly with how people perceive and accept chance opportunities. Richard Wiseman, author of The Luck Factor concurs, “Lucky people generate their own good fortune via four basic principles. They are skilled at creating and noticing chance opportunities, make lucky decisions by listening to their intuition, create self-fulfilling prophecies via positive expectations, and adopt a resilient attitude that transforms bad luck into good.”

So when the philosopher Seneca states that “luck is where opportunity meets preparation”, I can completely agree.

Additional research shows that lucky people are more relaxed, and as such are open to situations (opportunities) that they are prepared for. Unlucky people tend to be more reluctant, fearful and anxious. Attributes that directly coincide with someone’s being ready for “luck” to happen (cause) and how we feel with perceived outcomes (effect)..

But there are times in my life when I find myself just violating the odds and falling bass ackward into something amazing.

As luck would have it, I had an opportunity to do just that.

One of the most memorable experiences I have had as a Chef is owning my own restaurant. It happened to be one of the most grueling and enjoyable experiences. As you could imagine, it did not leave much room for vacations and getting away. After a few years of glorious toiling, it became apparent to me that I needed to get away. Years earlier I had taken my wife to Italy on our honeymoon; easily one of the most beautiful trips I had ever undertaken (and yeah, it was also a honeymoon). And when I thought of places appropriate to relax and recharge my batteries my mind naturally settled in on that glorious place filled with the most pleasant memories. This time though I wanted it to be a bit different.

You see in my life in the restaurant and catering business I spent oodles of time serving others. I love it, it really fulfills me. So on this trip I decided to treat myself; a trip where I worried nor wanted for nothing. I wanted me and my wife to be completely catered to.

As “luck” would have it, all these ideas came to a bubbling head when I met a young lady from the island of Sicily one day in my restaurant. She went on about the unrealized beauties of her homeland and I realized this was a part of Italy I had never seen, a great opportunity if ever one had presented itself. Intuitively I knew that this young lady obviously knew more than me about my new infatuation. I asked her for help, and if she knew of anyone who could accommodate a request like mine. As luck would have it, she did, and from there I created an amazing relationship with my friend Angelo. Over the course of a few months we created a program whereby our car and driver would take us to our agriturismo (vineyard/B&B) where we would stay. We would shop the markets for fresh produce, seafood, meats, cheeses and prepare our meals together and enjoy them with local wine. Whenever we wished, we would dine out and experience true local fare, see the historical sites, walk the beaches, hike the volcano, hear the history and mythology that sprung forth from Sicily’s passionate people . Best part, neither my wife nor myself were allowed to touch our wallets, as it was to be all paid and ready for us when we arrived.  Paradise. My expectations could not be higher, and Angelo was eager to acquiesce. It was to be a spectacular second honeymoon.

Yet, it wasn’t meant to be (at least as I had originally envisioned it). You see, sitting in my restaurant, which had an open kitchen, allowed my guests to see all the preparations that I was making, and that included my second honeymoon. One such guest sat, as he did most days, listening to the sounds of his meal being prepared and the bustle. On that day, he got a little more than he bargained for. As Tom sat enjoying his food, he overheard my plan.

“What’s that?” he asked as I hung up the phone with Angelo.

“The call?” he nodded, “Oh, I’m planning a trip to Sicily with Suzanne.” (my wife, you should know that by now). “My friend Angelo is taking care of all the details.”

“I heard…” his look changed from interest to , well interest.

He had overheard about the vineyards, the shopping, the cooking, the dining, and all that the ancient island culture and geography had to offer, and much like me, fell in love with the notion.

“I wanna come.”

And with that simple statement a chain reaction began that turned my wife’s second honeymoon into, shall we say…”better luck next time.”

We didn’t enjoy our second honeymoon as we expected that year, but we did manage to transform that bit of “bad luck” into a great thing. It turned out that we did go back. With this now fixed as a part of our restaurant's business model, we went back a few times actually, subsequent times bringing others with us to share the island experience we ourselves had “lucked” into.

Now, many might call all that lucky. And if I believed in luck I would certainly agree. But I don’t so I won’t. What it was was fortuitous; I was prepared to receive the opportunity, I had accounted for all the variables that concluded with a desired result, and when it didn’t work out quite the way I envisioned I adapted. “Luck”? No, it was the exact reaction equal and opposite to all the actions that lead up to it.

So, when I refuse to wish you luck, be flattered that I don’t think you incapable enough to not cause your own desired reactions, that you are oblivious enough not to notice all the amazing opportunities before you, that you lack positivity, and that you are resilient enough to overcome poor situations.* And, you should believe enough in your abilities to focus the odds to arrive at your desired results, believe you have control over your circumstances, believe that others' successes are not taunts but rather models for celebration. So, instead of relying on luck, rely on yourself and imagine, oh the places you'll go.

*I, Suzanne (editor) would like to deny any participation in the construction of this sentence. As much as I love my husband, there are some sentences that emerge from his brain that even I can't untangle.

Happy New

As we begin another New Year, and the confetti shakes out and the resolutions begin to fade, I begin to think about the glorious nature of starting afresh every year. For some reason, perhaps socially induced, we feel the need to periodically start over, sometimes in a grand way, sometimes more gradual. Statistically, the more creative and independent a personality you have, the more you crave change. Change may not always be in our best interest, but for some reason we perceive it as an essential component in moving towards our happiness, making ourselves and our lives better. What most people don't realize (or refuse to see) is that most things we wish to change are results; the results of bad behavior, the results of our habits. Habits are difficult to change because we have ingrained them into our being; we do them without thinking. So if you really want that change in your life that you presume will make you happier, you need to reprogram the behavioral patterns that give you the results you don't like seeing. No one has more particular passion for breaking bad habits and starting people down a happier path than a Chef.

I’ll never forget one of my new beginnings; I found myself being brought in to revamp a four star seafood restaurant. Food cost was running high, turnover too. I spent the first few weeks there learning all the stations, menu items and prep lists. I kept my new position of executive sous chef a secret as I acclimated to the kitchen culture, presuming I would be treated differently as a boss rather than a new coworker. I also didn't let on I spoke fluent Spanish as I acclimated to the predominantly Spanish-speaking kitchen staff.

Then came the day when Chef introduced me to the crew as the new executive sous chef, there to make some changes and get the kitchen back in shape.

    One of my first resolutions was to straighten up the prep kitchen. There was a bit of waste there that was stemming from a disorganized walk-in cooler. So, I pulled my prep cooks aside and laid out my plan.

“Ok guys, here's what I want to do today.” I started. “ Let’s take everything out of the walk in, pull out the shelves, deep clean the whole cooler, walls and floors, with bleach, shelves too, and then we'll put everything back after we organize the food. Got it?” I thought my request was pretty straight forward. I expected action.

“No sabe.” Was what I got in return. (No sabe is Spanish for ‘don't know’ presumably implying I don't know what you're saying but if taken literally implies someone doesn't have a clue (me)).

“Oh…. no sabe? You don't know what I'm saying? Well what should we do?”

He nodded vacantly, doubling down on his lack of initiative.

“OH! I got it!” I exclaimed.  His face lit up even though he (presumably) had no idea what I was saying and I (presumably) had no way of relaying my thoughts to him accurately.

“Toma todos los cosas e pone aqui en esta mesa e limpia los paredes e piso con aqua caliente e chloro…” I continued on with my now apparent command of Spanish. And as I finished the newly translated instruction I could tell by their faces, they were a little astonished.

“You f*#!ing sabe?” I closed.

“Yes.”

And with that they went to work.

Change happens over time and instantaneously. You can choose to make those choices yourself, and it is easiest when you self-direct those changes to your own habits and own the results.  But change can also be inflicted upon you from an external source, especially when your habits’ consequences violate acceptable norms. Needless to say, change happens as a result of changed behaviors resulting in different outcomes. Sustainable change happens when changed habits become the new norm. Although finishing a book happens on the last page, it required many turned pages from start to finish. But you will never get to that last page, nor understand the story, unless you pick it up and begin.

My holiday gift to you.

What a glorious time of year. A time to gather and celebrate with food and gifts. A time to ponder all the gifts you have been blessed with, no matter what form they come in, they are all around us waiting to be accepted. A gift is a thing given willingly to someone without payment... a present. One thing we often overlook however, is that if a gift is only if gift if, it is accepted. How often have we been presented with something and just not taken advantage of it; or not realized that what we were being presented with was in fact a gift; or kept something solely to ourselves without sharing it; I would dare to say that these are wasted gifts. I quite often equate receiving gifts to a glass (me) being filled with a beverage (the gift).Gifts fill the glass. Once full it cannot handle more unless first a bit is removed. You may consume as much as you can, but the next taste is never as rich as the first, as repeated tasting diminishes sensory acuity we drink more and more in hopes of that first rush. And too much imbibing will leave you, well….hurting.

So how does one make room in their glass without getting intoxicated…solution… share it.

One of the greatest gifts I have received is the chance to work at my alma mater, doing what I love and was trained to do. The gift of watching a young person discover themselves and begin the journey of their career is amazing, a gift I relish everyday. But before I opened this gift, there were a few tests along the way. One such test was a Chef's test to see if I was CIA material. A challenge I truly enjoyed. Well, mostly. Right up until the end it was a great day. My food was on point and I was in the zone. As I reached for the sauté pan holding my vegetables for the final dish it was painfully apparent to me that the handle of the pan had made its way under the side towel I was holding for such protection and since it was in fact ripping hot was now searing its way into my palm.

By the time the meal was presented and I was asked into the dining room for my critique, my hand was a throbbing mess. I pressed a paper towel wrapped ice cube into the stigma and made my way into the dining room. I was more than a little pissed off at myself.  And now, not only was I wounded, I had to stand in front of a table and hear a critique on what I thought went rather well, aside from the burn. As I contemplated all this, it hit me, the gift. Gift? How can anyone see this as a gift? Well that's just it, it's your perspective. Faced with this horrible pain, I chose to see it as a gift, and it was. As I wrestled with being able to do something so stupid and careless on such an important day, the gift kindly presented itself. Today wasn't only about me being a "great" Chef, it was about my abilities as a teacher, something I was overlooking in comfort of my zone.

So when asked, " What do you think?" I put away the ego of Chef and put on the humility of the teacher. Starting with the first spoon of soup to the last morsel of chicken, I critiqued my meal. One that I normally would have stood by and defended, I now outlined its flaws and remedies. And as I finished I felt a wave of satisfaction come over me (or maybe it was adrenaline from the throbbing wound) as I awaited the evaluators responses.

"Well, that's just what I would have said." Stated one of my evaluators. And in a few weeks time, I began my journey there as an instructor, and the gifts keep coming.

Gifts come in all forms, some less recognizable than others. But in order for them to be gifts they need to be accepted, recognized and taken in, and be appreciated. But if you really want to make the most of your gift, and have room for more in the process, you need to give some of it away. The more you give...the more room you have for more.

So look around and recolonize all the gifts in your life, and more importantly, share them with others.