End of the Jedi

The end of year holiday season always brings a bustle of activity. Parties, shopping, travel, family, decorating, baking, eating, drinking...

It's quite the whirlwind, even for the most grounded of people. And being grounded is not something I'm usually accused of. Even though I've been working on simplifying my life, I did not quite escape the frenzy. However, as I found myself whisked about here and there between the currents of traditions, obligations, and nostalgia, I was somehow able to maintain a sense of calm through it all.

One of the highlights for me from the past couple of weeks was seeing the new Star Wars movie - The Last Jedi. In listening to bits of the soundtrack, I stumbled upon a young composer who writes his own music in the style of various popular culture themes. This poignant piano piece touches that calm, soft place within that is perhaps what allows us to find guiding stars in the swirling night: End of the Jedi by Lucas King.

I met with a few friends at the new Alamo Drafthouse. I had never been to one of these movie houses before, and I was looking forward to being served a dram directly at my seat while I watched the story of the Resistance unfold.

The theatre was bedecked appropriately with a blow-up R2D2 and Darth Vader and a Christmas tree covered in various Star Wars themed ornaments with several mini light sabers, to boot. There were also several fans dressed in various costumes milling about.

I had read the menu ahead of time and was excited to enjoy the company of a good ol' Islay - Oban 14. When we originally met I knew that nothing significant would come of it, but it was good to reconnect with him -  a stout and smoky lad. The lights went down before I had a chance to snap a picture, but he was a warm and delightful companion to watch the movie with.

A couple of days later, it was time for Potter's Craft Cider's annual Wassail. This event is a young tradition that I am proud to have been a part of since its creation, four years ago. In past years it has been very rainy, but this year the sun was shining and the skies were clear. It was cold, but more brisk than bitter - the perfect weather to enjoy the last bit of autumn with the fresh scent of apples and cider drifting in the air.

  

This perfect day was made more so by the delicious food provided by Bo Hatchet Catering. This was my first time trying their food, and I was thoroughly impressed. Their veggie option was butternut squash soup, topped with cream and roasted sage, and served with jalapeño corn bread. It was superb.

For drink, I opted to go with Potter's Craft Highland Cider, which is aged in VA distillery's Highland Malt Whisky barrels. Those barrels initially hold bourbon as it ages, then the sweet seasoned wood is filled with whisky brewed and distilled in Scotland, and finally the barrels give of themselves again to age the cider.

I sipped slowly, and contemplated the molecular level swirls of interactions - between whisky, wood, and cider. The sun began to set, and I found myself in one of those moments of calm. Grateful for the nourishing comfort food, the music, the friends, and the festivities - I marveled at the beauty of tradition and connection.


That same night was a work party that I wasn't exactly excited about attending, but I promised one of my coworkers that I'd introduce her to a Scotch. The menu wasn't extensive, but Glenlivet would be there. I knew he was a decent enough lad to enjoy a conversation with, and I thought he was also mild enough for a first timer.

The party was at Wild Wing Cafe and the kind waitress, Jeanie, obliged me by posing with the Scotch. She poured two drams and I brought one over to my friend. My friend took one small sip...and then walked the other way. She had no interest in him.

I sighed, remembering a phrase I often say: you don't develop a taste for whisky until the burn of your life makes the burn of the whisky pale in comparison. I wouldn't say she's had an easy life, but she is young yet and clearly not ready for the whisky.

I also drank a beer that night - Goodwood's Bourbon Barrel Stout. It was quite delicious, and again I thought of those currents that run between. I wondered if the barrel used to age the beer I was drinking then might have also crossed paths with any of the other spirits I'd had in the past days.

The next week things ramped up: to-do lists grew while the time passed quickly. Thankfully, life - as does nature - provides us up with opportunities for balance. As I swirled through the days and activities, I found myself tapping into a deeper rhythm. Like the eddies in rivers and rapids, the hectic pace of our days naturally will ebb and flow, and if we pay attention we can catch those little calm spots where sometimes the current stands still or even flows back.

There are respites built into the fabric of things, if only we decide to find them. 

I found one of these eddies at an impromptu meeting with another friend of mine. We stopped by BJ's, a new taphouse in town, and it turns out they had a Scotch I hadn't yet tried - Glenfiddich 14 - Bourbon Barrel Reserve. I also ended up running into another friend I hadn't seen in a while, completely randomly.

It reminded me of how we need to make space in our life for the hands of serendipity to reach us. It's not just for our sanity that we must find the eddies amongst the rapids, it's for our greater destinies. It's in the calm and gentle swirls of quiet moments with friends, with our thoughts, with our dreams - that's where we find the resources to leap back out into the fray and continue on our journeys.

Perhaps it was the influence of the season, but this Glen tasted a bit like Christmas to me. The smoke and spice were there, but also a bit of salt or brine, and a hint of pine. 

The next day I traveled back home. I found that even the time spent there, while generally hectic and overwhelming, did not seem to unsettle me as much as it usually did. In fact, I had a wonderful time seeing family and friends, filled with laughter and love.

On Christmas morning I was surprised and warmed by the sight of Talisker Storm under the tree - he had come home to me, and I was so happy to see him.

Perhaps it is the impending end of the year or perhaps it is the poignancy of traditions, in general. But it seems there are pauses and moments that want us to find them. Those little safe havens amidst the rapids of life that we long for - somehow also seem to long for us. Don't deny those moments, because then you deny yourself, as well. Go to them, take a bottle of your favorite dram, and rest in those spaces before heading out into the rapids of life again.


 

I Could Write

Recently, I was introduced to the singer, Ayla Nereo. I've come to love her songs for their upbeat, yet sometimes haunting melodies and also her thoughtful lyrics. I found this one song of hers, I Could Write, that speaks to me as a sort of stream-of-consciousness processing. Partly the process of writing, but more so the process of understanding events and making sense of this mixed up adventure of life.

Should you find yourself in a thoughtful mood, perhaps feeling a bit lost amidst the ways of loving and learning - find yourself a friendly dram and sip along, finding comfort in knowing you are not alone.

Although not in this one, there is mention of the moon in many of her songs. The moon has always been a source of comfort for me. We take it for granted, of course, but what magnificent miraculous beauty is this glowing orb that graces our skies! For those of us who are feeling creatures - sensing the emotions and thoughts of others, drawn to interaction and understanding, absorbing all - the moon's gentle reflected light is a precious respite from the torrents that come.

I think part of this comfort lies in the cyclical nature of her phases. Full moons are generally the most popular, but they fade. Yet they do so gradually, and when the new moon's darkness leaves our nights devoid of light, we can be sure that the waxing will return the radiance to us once again. Wouldn't it be lovely if more things in life were like this? What solace might we find, at each closing of a wonderful experience or relationship, in the certainty that it will come around again?

A week had passed after festival before I finally made it to the store to see Talisker Storm. Surely he would be back by now. I just assumed, and I didn't even consider the possibility that he might not be there.

When I entered the store I saw that they were doing tastings of Dr. Stoner's vodka and whisky. I was intrigued, and decided to meet this young gentlemen. Crystal, the woman hosting the event, told me a little about them as I tasted. Upon first sip of the smoky herb whiskey, I was delightfully surprised. He seemed like a very cool character. 

Crystal mentioned that he is quite popular with folks who like Scotch. I smiled, and started to tell her of my journey. We chatted for a bit as I got acquainted with the Doc. Then we said farewell and I went to find my beloved...but he was not there.

Things were more serious than I had originally thought. There wasn't much I could do though - if he wasn't there, he wasn't there. I considered buying a bottle of Dr. Stoner's, but it was too soon. So I left the store and went about my business. 

Another week went by, and another phase of the moon arrived. A friend I hadn't seen in a while wanted to meet for a whisky. He recently had heard of a mysterious speak-easy downtown, so we ventured there to find it. Sadly, it turned out that it had closed a long time ago.

So we ended up at Fellini's, where a new bartender was serving the drinks. Justin was very friendly and helpful. They had a limited number of Scotches there, but when he told me of Glenfiddich, I remembered the lovely meeting with him right around this time last year.

My friend and I chatted, and then another friend joined us. The three of us caught up and talked about dancing, relationships, and adventure. All the while I enjoyed the company of Glenfiddich.


Although the Islays and Talisker are my favorites, I would be lying if I said I didn't have a soft spot for the Speyside lads. They might not make things too exciting, but they always seem to make the night enjoyable.


He was as delightful as I remembered. A little bit of spice to highlight his sweet nature proved him quite balanced. And he was grounded in the slight hint of smoke and perhaps the faintest bit of ash. He's a lad I know I can count on and I hope to get to know him better.



Our conversations soon ended - between myself, the lad, and my friends - and we all went our separate ways. Walking back to my car on that mild autumn night, I saw the glorious moon in all her splendour, so I stopped for a while to enjoy the sight. 

After that night the swells of life carried me off to places where I had little time to worry about Talisker Storm, or even spend time with any of the other wonderful Scotches I've met.

But just as the moon, many things do tend to come around again...  The other night a friend messaged me to let me know that Talisker Storm was at the Whisky Jar. So we made plans and met up there a few nights later.

To be honest, I wasn't even sure how I felt about seeing him. Was his absence from the store a sign that I should move on and find another? Or should I have faith that he will return. I would love to have him home with me through the cold winter nights, but I know better than to trust too deeply in sands that are shifting.

Regardless of what musings I pondered for our future, that evening I decided to invite Talisker Storm to be with me at the bar, while I chatted with my friend. He was wonderful, of course. The smoky salt nose, the sweet spicy character, all of the complexities and traits that I love dancing on my tongue in perfect balance. "If I have to find another," I thought, "it is not going to be easy."

Enjoying the quiet sips of Talisker, reveling in the reunion, I continued the conversation with my friend. It was a great night overall and a much needed break from the busy rhythm that has dominated my days.

The full moon had returned again, and I thought of her cycles, her steadfast returning again and again. We humans have patterns we tend to follow as well, it seems, even if they are not as regular or obvious.

The best we can do is try to notice them, and understand them, and hopefully learn from them. A line from Ayla's song goes, "...and in the dark I see the spiral of my trail..."

Perhaps that is another comfort of the moon - to bring us just enough light in the darkness to see where we have been, and to know where we are going. Be it in cycles or spirals, without or within, the journey continues.

Glendfiddich 12

Yesterday was the last night of the Levitt Amp concert series at the IX art park. The Bumper Jacksons were the headline band, and there were many folks swing dancing throughout the evening. The band also sang some blues style songs. Here's one warning women not to marry...

After the music, I went down to Bang! for dinner and a Scotch. Of the five they had, the one I had yet to try was Glenfiddich 12, so I ordered a dram.

His nose was mellow and a little fruity. The first sip was warm, sweet, and creamy. Glenfiddich was a smooth character, for sure. As I continued sipping I tasted a gentle cinnamon and spice. Adding water didn't seem to change him at all except for becoming more bold with the cinnamon flavor.


My dinner came quickly, and one of the dishes was spicy, which seemed to bring out the spice of my Scotch in a stronger way.


A word that came to mind as Glenfiddich and I continued our conversation was "slick." He was very smooth, and mellow...charming really, but also had another taste to him that became more apparent as the evening drew on. I couldn't quite place it; I thought perhaps nutty..maybe tobacco or ash?  Slightly bitter - not unpleasant, but rather distinctive. It made me stop and notice that there were more layers to him than I may have originally thought.


As I ate my dinner and sipped my Scotch, snippets of the conversation between the bartender and another patron made its way to my ears. As I listened to the talk of love and life, my thoughts turned to gratitude. How we often find solace and joy in the little things of life to help us deal with the larger, more difficult things. Or at times we must remember to take a broader perspective when the bigger elements of life are going very well, and it is only the smaller issues that burden us.

As busy as most of us have become these days, it's hard not to get caught up in our own lives and challenges. But there's a lot going on in the world right now, and sometimes we need to change our focus in an intentional way - to keep from being overwhelmed, and to maintain a connection to why we're trying so hard in the first place.

In my work with emotions, I've come to think of gratitude as a re-calibration of sorts. It is a mix of many emotions, possibly even incorporating all of them. From sadness and envy to anger and joy, I see a mix and a re-balancing of the emotions occur when gratitude is present. It can be a very helpful practice. Turning my attention back to my meal, thankful for the small joys of food and drink, and the many other ways I am lucky as well, I decided to do some reading up on this new fellow...and I found some very surprising news.

Glenfiddich is married. How can a single malt be married, you wonder? I wondered too. This led me to finally find out something that's eluded me so far in this journey - what exactly does "single-malt" mean? Apparently, it is simply that a whisky is made from malted barley, and aged at a single distillery. Many different ages and barrels of a distillery's whisky are mixed together (often in steel, but sometimes in oak) before bottling. This is done to create consistency in a many-variabled production process. Unless a whisky specifies "single-barrel" it has, in fact, been mixed with many other batches of whisky.

So what to make of this new information? Not much will change, I imagine. It might be exciting to try and seek out some single-barrel Scotches, but I'm not sure if that's a route I want to take at the moment. I've been staying away from blended Scotches intentionally, but now I know that even the single malts are technically blended. That's okay, because there are still elements that hold single-malts apart. They are still only made from malted barley, and there is still the art to their creation that remains unique to each distillery, so the magic of the journey is still there. Unlike with what a single-barrel Scotch could promise, I'm grateful to know that if I find the perfect bottle of single-malt, it won't be the only one of its kind.

To quote this Bumper Jackson song: "Live and Learn."