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Excerpted from Kitchen Table Wisdom by Rachel Naomi Remen. Copyright 1997 by Rachel Naomi Remen. Excerpted by permission of Penguin Putnam, Inc.  All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.  HTML and web pages copyright by SpiritSite.com.

"I thought I knew about survival, because after all I was in the survival business."

Rachel Naomi RemenKitchen Table Wisdom, Part 2

I thought I had hidden successfully until, without warning, the woman turned and moved toward me, pointing as she came. I saw then that she was very old, possibly even deaf, and this perhaps explained her loudness. She took me by the arm and began to pull me through the showroom, encouraging me with little clicking noises and repetitions of "Come. You come." I tried to shake her off but for someone so small and frail her grip was strong. So I went along, followed by my friend, who was clearly amused by my struggle.

She took us into a room in the back of the store, empty except for four scrolls, one on each wall, representing the seasons. Unlike the paintings in the showroom these were museum-quality. In one of them, an old and twisted branch bloomed with hundreds of tiny pink blossoms. The branch and the blossoms were covered with snow. It was exquisite.

Leading me up to this, she said to me, "You see, you see? February! The plum blossom comes!" In her odd intense way she told me that the plum suffered because it was the first, it bloomed early, in February, often still in winter, in the hard and the cold. She touched the snow on the branch with her small arthritic hand, nodding her head vigorously. Looking intensely into my face and shaking my arm slightly, she said, "Plum blossom, the beginning. Like Japanese woman, plum blossom gentle, tender, soft ... and survive."

I puzzled about this for a long time afterwards. As a physician, I thought I knew about survival, because after all I was in the survival business. I had known survival to be a matter of expertise, of skill and action, of competence and knowledge. What she had told me made no sense to me.

This was confusing to me for other reasons as well. Like the plum blossoms, I too had come early. My mother had suffered from toxemia and I had been delivered by emergency cesarean section far below full-term weight. In February 1938, I had not been expected to live. All through my childhood I had been told that I had survived because of the invention of the incubator.

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