THE MYSTERY OF THE MANGO PIT
I always found mangoes to be quite mysterious. I cut away the soft flesh inching closer and closer to the pit that I can’t quite see but know is there. I listen for the crunchy grating sound of the knife just grazing the pit. Then as the knife hits the pit I back off just a centimeter and make my cut so as to get as much of the tender ripe mango meat as possible. But I never quite see the pit. I know it’s there, I hear it, I feel the roughness against my knife but even as I cut away the mango I still don’t get a good look at it. It has eluded me for years. But that’s what makes the mango so special. It has this hidden secret deep in its belly. Although I never tried I always thought that even if I sliced away little by little every last bit of mango meat somehow that pit would not show itself.
Like a mango pit my dreams are ever elusive. I butt up against them, I can feel them but even as I get closer to them I’m never quite sure what they are. They have never shown themselves clearly to me. I have never dreamt of being a powerful businesswoman, or a famous author or artist. Never have I thought about being a rich lawyer, a physician who discovers a new cure or the first woman president. Not a singer, an actress, or an entertainer of any kind. I’ve never wanted to own my own company, invent something new or win a pulitzer prize. Sometimes I think that my dreams have more to do with what I THINK I should want. Maybe because I don’t really KNOW what I want.
As I struggle to decide what to do with this last third of my life in which I finally have time to pursue any dreams that I might have, I try to think back to all of the things I wanted to do when I was a busy Mom of four children and motherhood was my entire life. I have a vague recollection of wanting to be a storyteller, a world traveler, an ASL interpreter, a dancer, an expert in survival medicine, a motivational speaker, a sommelier . . . but those were all fleeting and not passions that I knew I would need to fulfill for my inner contentment.
When my fourth son, Drew was 5 years old he told me he wanted to be a chef when he grew up. I nodded my head and offered the standard mother response as I did with all of my kids and said “Yeah great! You know you can be whatever you put your mind to.” Then I went about the business of taking care of the minutiae of our lives that day. But Drew took it a step further. He went to a good friend of ours who owned a restaurant and told her he wanted to be a chef and asked if she would teach him how. Being the generous person that she was she said sure but he would need to be a little older before they started. She told him to come back to her when he was in Junior High. I think she and I both figured this too would pass. But it didn’t and 6 years later he went to her again and said, “I’m in Junior High. Can you teach me now.” And she did. She took him under her wing and into her kitchen and that was the beginning of his career as a line cook and then a sous chef. Now to me, that is a passion. To know what you want to do with your life at such a young age, to do what it takes to accomplish that and to make and take opportunities to keep you headed in that direction. How lucky he was to know what he wanted and how lucky he was to find a thoughtful and generous mentor who would help him live his dream.
I remember once reading that if you want to figure out what to do with your life think back to what you used to play as a child because that is what you enjoyed before you had all of the outside influences that very often affect your choice of career. I loved pretending I was a nun teaching in a Catholic school. In 2nd grade at my request my Mom sewed for me a nun’s habit. With my new habit on I would go down to our basement and teach the imaginary class I had with my very own real blackboard. I would make my students follow me around in a straight line, hushing them along the way. We would stop often to pray and I would have to scold them when they were being too noisy, wagging my finger at them and talking in a stern voice. I had a rosary looped around my belt and tucked my arms under my scapular as I walked . . . so I guess I’m joining a convent??
I bought a mango yesterday and I finally got down to the pit. I cut around it and chipped away at it and then sucked it clean. It’s white and fuzzy and inside is a big rich brown solid seed. The mystery of the mango pit is gone. I hope the mystery of my dreams follows.