Lemongrass

This week, one of my leaders at work shared this quote: We stand in the precipice between memory and anticipation. 

What a thing that is.  I stand between the memory of who I was and the anticipation of who I will be.  I hadn’t heard this quote yet, but was in this state of mind as I visited our rooftop garden.  I stood in the beautiful morning light, feeling the soft breeze of a lingering summer (October in the south is still summer, y’all) gazing on the strands of lemongrass standing tall and full.  I had a memory of my younger self, maybe 10, 15 (?!) years ago wanting to make an authentic Asian curry and not being able to find lemongrass, not even in the Asian supermarkets.  I am sure it was there in the supermarket; I just didn’t know how to find it. I remembered a time of my younger self, maybe 6, 7 years ago finding lemongrass in my everyday supermarket and being so excited to make my first curry paste from scratch.  I remember tasting the resulting curry and having the lightbulb moment of connecting the flavor of curry with the specific flavor of lemongrass.  Now, this week, I stand at the place of my work with an abundance of fresh lemongrass growing on the roof.  It was a full-circle moment, one of those times when you can viscerally feel the elements of your life, the time and space of individual moments, wrapped up in one cohesive moment.  I am also struck by the fact that I stand in a place of abundance (and not just lemongrass, but abundance in so many areas of my life) where I once stood in a place of not being able to find that which I sought. 

As I reflect on this small, yet hugely expansive, moment of my week, I wonder at the precipice of my life right now. That those things which I do not even know how to find today, I will one day stand surrounded by their abundance. May you be aware of the moments this week that connect you to your memories and the anticipation of your life unfolding before you.