It’s the time of year for holiday baking! For a few years I skipped it completely. My friends and family moaned a little, but we used whatever money I would have spent making cookies and sending cards toward charity. This year I decided to make some cookies—only a batch of each to keep it all super low key. Also, as long as a nice large tray of cookies would be dropped off at the domestic violence shelter where I often make donations, it would still be for charity.
Yesterday, while making gingerbread men, I experienced a little of a spiritual quest, where the words of many who’ve walked before me sank even deeper.
Monday I made the gingerbread dough and popped it in the fridge until I was ready to roll it out later. Yesterday I worked from home, and following my lunch walk, I decided to pull out the dough so it would be perfectly soft when I logged off for the day. The cold air outside left me craving the warm smell of cookies in my home.
When it was time to roll, the consistency was just perfect. I preheated the oven and set to work making tiny little people with a brand new cookie cutter I purchased from Zabars on Sunday morning (for an unbelievable price, by the way). They were coming out seamlessly.
I knew I was going to freeze most of them, so I didn’t want to frost them. Instead, I opted to make three little indentations with an appetizer fork on their bellies for buttons, as well as on their feet to mimic a little cuff. For the eyes I used the back of a lobster pick. I decided against a mouth, nose, or cuffs for the arms. It was a bit too much, as this year I’m keeping it simple.
As I decorated the first batch, I couldn’t help but notice how different each cookie already looked. I attempted to make them all the same, but the place in the dough where I cut and the ever-so-slight differences in the eyes, buttons, and cuffs made each beautiful little gingerbread person unique in its own way.
I popped the first two trays in the oven and set to work on the second two trays. It was immediately apparent that the dough was already slightly warmer and a bit more difficult to cut. However, making the indentations was easier.
The first batch came out, and I loaded the second one in. I let the first two trays cool for a minute before carefully removing them with a spatula onto the cooling rack.
These cute little confections puffed up in the oven and began to sink back down as I started to lift them. As with many cookies (especially complicated cutouts), a few broke a little arm or leg in the process. Some had less deep button indentations. Some just cooked a little more than others depending on their place in the oven and how thick the dough was. Despite my attempt to make them uniform, nature, chemistry, and my own artistic abilities made each ever so slightly dissimilar to one another.
Some had gotten so puffed that they combined with neighboring cookies. I had to carefully cut them apart so I didn’t break either in the process. For some, it was difficult to distinguish which overlap belonged to which cookie.
This is where my mind went on that short spiritual quest.
Like people and animals, these little cookies were all distinct. Where does one person really begin and another end? Those cookies that stuck together came from the same batch. Where they overlapped, it was hard to tell who was who, as they are made from the same stuff. And does it matter, other than to the eye, that they are separate? It’s all just cookies that will taste more or less the same.
Then I thought… what if somehow these gingerbread cookies became conscious? Would they form a society and create a hierarchy of “better” or “worse” cookies based on cut, color, consistency, button depth, etc.? How crazy would that be? Not too long before that they were just ingredients in a store, then my fridge, then in a ball together. Why would they create a structure in which some have dominance or perceived superiority over another?
What if they split off into groups and started hating one another? Hating one another so much so that they began destroying one another based on their own gingerbread beliefs. Wouldn’t that be kind of crazy? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of making the cookies in the first place? Why would they fight over differences rather than celebrating how each is uniquely different?
Why do we think we are any different?
We are all made from the same fundamental “ingredients,” shaped by different conditions, experiences, and influences along the way. Deep down, we are far more alike than we are different. It’s only circumstance, environment, and the unfolding of life that creates variation in how we look, think, and move through the world.
We were created from the same source and, in many ways, for the same purpose. Maybe instead of focusing on our differences, we should be celebrating what makes each of us uniquely beautiful.
Lessons from the Gingerbread People
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One of my cookies—
