Why a Danish pastry isn’t really Danish
I was traveling through Scandinavia when I learned something that stopped me mid-bite.
The Danish pastry is not Danish.
In Denmark, they do not call it that.
They call it wienerbrød.
Vienna bread.
I asked about it, the way you do when you are somewhere new and everything is slightly unfamiliar.
And I got a story I have not stopped thinking about since.
As the story goes, Danish bakery workers went on strike sometime in the 1800s.
They wanted better pay.
They wanted to be treated like people instead of hands attached to an oven.
So they walked out.
But a city still needs bread.
So the shop owners did what shop owners do.
They brought in workers from somewhere else.
Bakers came from Austria.
And those Austrian bakers did not know how the Danes did things.
They only knew how they did things.
So they made what they had always made.
Dough with butter folded into it.
Folded again.
Folded again.
Layer on layer on layer, until it baked into something so light it shatters when you bite it.
The Danes had never seen anything like it.
Eventually the strike ended.
The Danish bakers came back to their ovens.
The Austrians packed up and went home.
But the pastry stayed.
The Danish bakers kept making it.
They adjusted it.
They added more butter, more egg, made it richer and sweeter and entirely their own.
And then they sent it out into the world.
Where everyone who ate it called it a Danish.
Because that is where it came from, as far as anyone could tell.
Now it sits in a glass case in every coffee shop on earth.
Nobody asks.
Nobody stands at the counter and wonders why a pastry born from a labor dispute in one country, using a technique from another, ended up carrying the name of neither one accurately.
It is just a Danish.
It has always been a Danish.
That is what it is called.
Except in Denmark.
Where they have been calling it Vienna bread this whole time, correctly, while the rest of us got it wrong for a hundred and fifty years.
I stood there thinking about that far longer than a pastry deserves.
Because how many things do I do exactly that with?
Here is what I keep coming back to.
Most of the labels in my life were not decisions.
They were assumptions I absorbed and never revisited.
The story I told about my marriage.
The story I told about why I burned out.
The story I told about what a woman in her sixties, and then her seventies, is supposed to want out of her remaining years.
I did not sit down one afternoon and choose those.
They were handed to me.
By family.
By the era I grew up in.
By a hundred small comments from people who meant no harm and did not know they were writing on me.
And I carried them.
For decades I carried a label that said this is who you are, this is what you do, this is what is available to you.
I never once turned it over to see if it was accurate.
Which is the strange part, when I think about it now.
I was a broker.
I was a general contractor.
I spent my working life reading contracts line by line, checking the fine print, catching the thing everyone else missed.
I checked everything.
Except the things I had been told about myself.
I think we stop checking because checking is uncomfortable.
A label is efficient.
It saves you from having to think.
If I know what something is, I do not have to look at it.
I can just reach for it and move on with my day.
That works beautifully for pastries.
It works terribly for lives.
Because the labels do not update themselves.
They get set young, usually by someone else, and then they sit there quietly running your decisions for forty years while you assume they are just facts.
I am too old to start over.
I am not the kind of person who travels alone.
This is what my life looks like now.
None of those were true.
Every single one of them felt like a fact.
I was in my sixties when everything came apart.
The marriage ended.
The business closed.
I was tired in a way that sleep did not fix.
And I remember thinking, well, that is that.
That was the label I reached for.
The one that says a woman my age whose life has just fallen apart is finished, and the rest is just waiting.
I held that one for a while.
Then, slowly, I turned it over.
And I could not find a single piece of evidence for it.
Not one.
It was not a fact.
It was just something I had been handed and never questioned.
So I put it down.
What came after was six books.
A running career that put me in the national top ten at sixty five.
More countries than I can list.
A version of myself I would not have believed was possible at fifty.
None of that was hiding somewhere far away.
It was all sitting right there, underneath a name that was never accurate.
Keeping an open mind is not a personality trait.
Some people talk about it like it is a temperament, something you either have or you do not.
It is not.
It is a practice.
It is the willingness to pick up something you have held a hundred times and ask, honestly, is this what I think it is?
You do not have to do it with everything at once.
Start small.
Pick one thing you have been saying about yourself for years.
Something that comes out automatically, the way a hand reaches for a cup.
I am not creative.
I am bad with money.
I have never been the adventurous one.
Now find the evidence.
Not the feeling.
The evidence.
Where did that sentence come from.
Who said it first.
How old were you.
Is it still true, or was it only ever true once, in a specific year, in a situation that no longer exists?
Sometimes you will check and the answer will be yes.
That one holds up.
Good.
Now you know it on purpose instead of by accident.
And sometimes you will discover you have been calling something by the wrong name your entire life.
Here is my actual suggestion, and it is a small one.
Tomorrow morning, when the coffee is poured and the pastry is on the plate, take one extra second before the first bite.
You are holding a hundred and fifty year old accident.
A strike.
A group of stand-in bakers who did not know the local rules.
A recipe that outlived every person involved and traveled the world under someone else’s name.
All of that, sitting on a napkin next to your cup, at seven in the morning, on an ordinary day.
That is what ordinary days are made of.
Small things with whole histories folded inside them, waiting for somebody to look a little closer.
This is the thing I most want people to understand about happiness.
It is not somewhere else.
It is not on the other side of the next big change.
It is in the ordinary morning, in the ordinary cup, in the ordinary pastry that turns out to have a story in it if you bother to ask.
You just have to be willing to look at what you are actually holding.
So let me ask you this.
What is one thing you have been calling by the same name your whole life, that you have never once gone back and checked?
I’d love to read your answer below.
These words came to me in my quiet time recently. Even though I have made huge strides since my days as a spiritually-starved workaholic, I was reminded to be even more intentional in the daily actions I choose.
Perhaps you are at the same crossroad in your life—busy “doing” and not “being.”
May these gentle suggestions remind you of changes you could make to live a life of more peace and harmony versus a life that leads you by checking off your “should” do list.
These are but a few examples of how we can be more mindful and intentional as we create our lives. It is your life; you get to choose what you wish to create. The best way to do that is to LIVE your life, not let it LEAD you!
Water. It doesn’t seem that important until you don’t have any!
While farm life is fun, it does come with certain challenges. Such was the case this week when our pump stopped working . There was electricity to the well/pump, but the water tanks were empty, and that pesky red “fault” light was blinking!
I don’t mind being without water for a bit. That little inconvenience occurred often when I lived in Turkey. While overseas I learned to take a sponge bath with bottle water. Now I have a huge bathtub in my backyard, commonly known as a swimming pool . I can survive just fine taking my daily bath in the pool as the waterfall flows.
But not my 20 sheep, 10 chickens, and 2 dogs. They need fresh water. And let’s not forget the three sprinkler clocks for all the grass, trees, shrubs, and flowers! I can’t imagine losing 18 years of my hard-earned gardening efforts.
Yep, we needed water…and fast. After a quick call to the pump company and a water truck delivery company (and a few bills in between), we were back in business. Everyone is happy and well-watered. I could even run the dishwasher later if needed.
How do I take all this in stride? First, I did the troubleshooting to find out which repairman to call and to give them an idea of the problem.
Then I counted my lucky stars that I had done several loads of laundry earlier this week, just cleaned and refilled all the animals’ water containers, and lastly had my hair done yesterday. Additionally, I reflected that this occurred while I was home and not traipsing the world. All in all, it was a good time to be inconvenienced, if there is such a thing.
But what did I learn from this experience?
-Don’t take little things for granted.
-I can handle life’s challenges.
-In the big scheme of life, this is merely a little bump in the road.
-The timing was good.
Lastly, I realized things could have been much worse…such as an electrical outage or no internet.
So, I’d like to ask you to reflect upon what you are taking for granted these days. Is it water, electricity, your family, your job, your health, or something else?
Perhaps it’s time we all learn to be grateful for the little things in life.
Everyone experiences change—all types of change. Some changes are considered “bad” while others are “unfortunate.”
One thing is certain—change does change us. It shapes us into something else, hopefully a better person, even if it takes a while.
Often people experience traumatic, life-changing events that might seem like tremendous obstacles or even unfathomable, only to later claim it was the best thing in their life!
How can this be so? It’s because that traumatic event changed them.
It resulted in a profound learning experience, and they were changed, not just physically or financially, but at the soul level!
They learned to live in deep gratitude for the life they are fortunate to live. They learned they are not their body and refuse to set limitations upon themselves. They learn they are stronger than they ever imagined.
I believe change is not here to hurt us or haunt us, but rather to help us. It helps us grow in ways that we couldn’t even imagine. It shapes us into the person we were meant to be.
Think of change as God, the Universe, or your version of a higher power, giving you a nudge. A nudge we’d be reluctant to take on our own, but a necessary step in our growth.
Next time you encounter change—whether it’s a small irritant such as a change in your appointment schedule or a life-changing, serious event, ask yourself these questions:
-What am I to learn from this event?
-Why am I being taught this lesson now?
-How can I use this experience to grow into a better person?
You’ll discover those answers and more if you are open to the change you encounter.
Learning to accept change and grow from such experiences leads to “going with the flow.”
You learn to be more trusting of the process of your own human development, divinely led. You stop second-guessing why this happened and “what did I do wrong to deserve this?” Instead, you embrace the challenge, much like a child being advanced to the next grade.
With your new-found ability to go with the flow comes a sense of peace that many do not achieve until their later years.
To me, this peace seems to stabilize your soul. Worry is a distant memory. Life is more joyous. You learn to embrace change and even welcome it. Your fears about upsetting your apple cart of daily existence seem to fade away.
You have learned the lesson, my dears. Change is merely a doorway to advancement, a bumpy and sometimes tumultuous path, but one well worth traveling.
I want to challenge your thinking and explain why it’s okay that life is sometimes difficult, annoying, and downright hard!
Why? Because then you learn:
-Persistence – the importance of repeated effort, even when it’s hard!
-Satisfaction - feeling good about yourself when you overcome that hurdle.
-Proud – of yourself for doing so. Others will be proud of you, too.
-You are setting an example - others will be inspired by your actions and it helps them realize they can do it too!
These are the same reasons well-meaning parents shouldn’t coddle their kids and do everything for them. Otherwise, how will the youngster ever know they are capable? How will they stretch the “hardship” muscle until it becomes easier? How will they develop the self-confidence to strive for other goals?
If you never experience hard things, you will become stagnant. You will not grow and learn as a human being. Your life on Earth will be pretty much a waste of time. Instead, don’t set limits on yourself or your children. Keep doing hard things. Keep stretching your “hardship” muscle.
You will be surprised at what you (or they) can accomplish once you learn how to overcome hardship. When you build your “hardship” muscle through practice, you learn you can do hard things. You learn to do hard things on a regular basis. Doing hard things is no longer an obstacle. It’s just part of the process.
Think about something that was once hard for you. Maybe it was learning to ride a bike or master Geometry. It was hard at first, but you kept trying and finally accomplished it.
Perhaps it was finding a job. After 100’s of applications, you finally secured one. Maybe your struggle was college – getting accepted, paying for it, doing the work, and then graduating. It was all hard work.
How many of us stop trying along the way? How many of us have numerous excuses for our failure to reach goals?
It’s normal to want to quit when life (or a specific task) get hard. The icing on the cake comes when we push through, pivot, and/or learn a new way to accomplish what was once hard.
No one can take away your feeling of accomplishment—you earned it!
Next time life gives you a “hard” thing, appreciate the opportunity to stretch your capabilities and grow. Practice stretching your “hardship” muscle. It will get easier each time until one day, nothing will be an obstacle for you, merely an opportunity.
You step into greatness. You step into divinity. You step into the person you were meant to be.
As I sit in the morning with my cup of coffee, enjoying the solitude, the sun gently makes its arrival, ultimately culminating in bright magnificence.
It brings with it—hope. Hope for a new day filled with all of God’s blessings for us to enjoy, whatever such blessings may mean to us.
We are reminded to seize the opportunity that each day brings and seize this gift and use it as we wish. Remembering as we do so, that one day will be our last and we will no longer have the gift of a new day.
Spend each day feeding yourself, both with comfort and food, for your body as well as your soul. Man cannot exist without sustenance for both—physical as well as spiritual (soul) nourishment.
Such is the way of our creator, the Great I Am, or God as you call him. He is a euphorial being encompassing all aspects of divinity within our universe.
In November of 2025 I ventured on a once-in-a-lifetime journey to India to see the Taj Mahal. While that was a magnificent experience in itself, what I did not imagine was how visiting Gandhi Smriti would impact me so profoundly.
This solemn retreat hidden away in the bustling city of New Delhi was quiet, insightful, and peaceful in it’s own way. You see, this is not only the place where Gandhi spent his last 144 days on Earth, but also the place where he was assassinated. Visitors can view his humble abode, his meditation chair, the beautiful garden, and the martyr’s column denoting the place where he died. His footsteps in concrete show the path from his dwelling/office towards his meditation chair across the garden where he was interrupted by his assassin.
In a lighter note, there is a long exterior walkway with many photos and explanations about him. It explains how he grew up in India, went away to college in England where he studied to be a barrister (an English version of a lawyer) and why he traveled to South Africa. His struggles in South Africa resulted in freedom from the British Monarchy. This momentous task is more than most people are capable in an entire lifetime. But for Gandhi, it merely set the stage for his role in securing the same freedom for his homeland, India.
The man epitomized the word: Satyagraha, which means “a policy of passive political resistance especially that advocated by Mahatma Gandhi against British rule in India.” (Quote from the New Oxford American Dictionary.)
After becoming acquainted with the history surrounding Gandhi and his accomplishments, I was eager to have a “soul connection” with him. Herewith is our conversation.
Janie J: Gandhi, you lived an exemplary life! I was in awe and admiration when I learned about you on my visit to India. Please tell me what you feel was your greatest accomplishment.
Gandhi: At the time, I didn’t think my accomplishments were many or so significant. I was only trying to solve the next issue in my journey. It is only now as I look back and notice how all those little steps I took resulted in big accomplishments.
I hope that I left mankind with the sense that one person can indeed make a difference in the lives of others and leave a mark on humanity.
I didn’t realize it at first, but then it became an obsession with me to fix (or at least bring attention to) the unfairness and unethical treatment of some peoples. This was not right! I found it to be indignant! It infuriated me so, but I learned to keep myself calm so my words and actions would be taken seriously for I knew that sudden outbursts and yelling would only draw negative attention to me and my efforts. I think I exemplified to others the purpose and power of calm negotiation.
My greatest accomplishment then, I feel, was to show all humans are equal or should be treated as such, using calm methods versus loud outbursts. Peaceful learning and peaceful co-existence is what I’d call it. Learning we are all equal, accepting it and acting accordingly, all without violence and mayhem.
All my best to you on your journey. Namaste.
Mahatma Gandhi, the great leader of men, setting the example of kindness, compassion, and equality through non-destructive means.
If you enjoyed this article, please follow me on Medium.com. My mission is to help raise the consciousness of mankind, one soul at a time.
Among my writing and mediumship duties, I have spent the last few years raising sheep and learning how to be a “gentlewoman farmer.” As you can imagine, there has been a huge learning curve in this endeavor! My rewards besides the cute little newborns, is the opportunity to learn many lessons!
To explain further, let me start at the beginning. I purchased two female dorper sheep (ewes) from a neighbor. Dorper sheep are considered “hairless.” This doesn’t mean they have no hair; it just means they do not have to be sheared. Instead, their hair comes out in clumps anywhere they press against- like the fence (so your fencing starts to look like a dirty hairbrush.) Oh well, at least there’s no shearing to do.
My first black and white dorpers were named Joy and Happiness, which I shortly thereafter bred with the neighbor’s ram. Five months later, Joy gave birth. I was so excited to finally be a grandmother! Well, sort of. I finally knew what all my friends were talking about when they discussed the joys of being a grandparent! (Lesson: grandparenting is a joyous experience.)
I named my first-born grandchild, Love. But the name was quickly changed because he was a ram and started ramming everything and doing other unscrupulous acts mere weeks after he was born! (Apparently they are born with these tendencies.) I decided Rambo was a more appropriate name.
Shortly thereafter, Happiness gave birth and graced me with two ewes, aptly named Kindness and Trust. (I had a theme going here.) So I had my own ready-made flock of sheep from which to start breeding. With four ewes and a ram, it didn’t take long for Mama Joy and Mama Happiness to give birth again.
This time, Happiness had triplets! What fun! One was black, another tan and white, and the last one was all tan. Joy gave birth to a tan and white ram. Most of the newborns ended up being rams so they went to the market, except for the one we intended to harvest when he was one year old. (This is the politically correct term for enjoying them for dinner.)
Another year passed and it was going well as I kept the females, and the boys went to auction. Somehow in my infinite wisdom, I thought more would be better. (Lesson: this isn’t always the case.) I surmised that I just needed more ewes to speed things up. My neighbor obliged this time by trading one of my rams for her ewe.
The vet had suggested that we only breed our sheep during a two-month period every year. Before that, I was letting them have conjugal visits all year round. This had resulted in births anytime of the year, including the cold of winter and the hot of summer. The vet said if you limit the visit to two months, then you can keep them on a schedule for all the shots and deworming more easily. This seemed like a reasonable suggestion because keeping track of all the sheep in the first place was hard enough. They all had names, and I recorded their birthdays and who their parents were and their siblings. Keeping track of their CDT #1 and CDT #2 shots and then their deworming schedule was a bit cumbersome!
Now fast forward to this year. We bred 10 female sheep during a two-month period, carefully planned with our vacation schedules in mind. All 10 ewes gave birth; some had twins. The total number of new baby lambs was 13! Lucky number, right? Well, not so much we learned.
For starters, our sheep pen (where they all spend their nights safe from coyotes) is only 16’ x 16’. Luckily, they didn’t all give birth on the same day. We did have twins and a singleton born on the same day by different mamas though!
For the first two or three days after giving birth, we keep the newborns and their mama in the pen during the day. We do this to help the babies bond to their mothers, and so the mothers can get some much-needed extra food, water, and rest, away from the rest of the flock.
One of the newborns was a ram we named Brownie because he was…surprise…brown! He was a cutey! One day, in our quest not to have to mow their field (again!) we gave the sheep a bit less alfalfa. They were upset and knocked over the heavy metal feeder. Brownie’s mama and one of his little playmates were crying and making a big fuss while they raced around frantically looking for something. When I went out to see what was wrong, there he was. Unfortunately, little Brownie had been underneath the feeder when the older sheep knocked it to the ground, crushing him in the midsection. It was heartbreaking. I showed his body to his mama and playmate, hoping they would get closure, not knowing if animals need the same thing we humans do.
We buried him at the rear of our property with the gratitude to have known the little creature, even for such a short time. We also made a solemn vow to be more careful and do whatever we could to prevent such disasters in the future. To that note, we secured the feeder with some strong wire and posts. (Lesson: take precautions, be careful, and learn from your mistakes.) This small action no doubt helped to save the future newborns, as Brownie was one of the first in the season to be born.
Another unfortunate incident was when one of the young, first-time moms had a really small baby and it did not thrive. Mama didn’t seem to want to feed it after the first day. The newborns get weak very quickly if they can’t find and suckle the teat for enough nourishment! That baby died the first week. It was so sad.
Then we had two sets of twins, where the mamas only nourished one twin. The other failed to gain weight and succumbed to either a disability or inability to seek nourishment. Only one of the twins seem to flourish. (Lesson: it’s God or nature’s way of releasing the weak.) It seemed only the strong survive.
We did not like these changes. We were upset to lose four baby lambs. In fact our backfield was being dug up every week to bury one of the poor creatures, but eventually we saw the wisdom in God‘s ways because God will never give you more than you can handle! Loss of multiple births, or even one birth is more than some can handle, and it was definitely more than we could handle looking back.
This whole experience has been filled with lessons. We love our animals, and we spend time with them daily petting them and talking to them. We clean their pens and provide fresh water and food twice a day. Basically, they are spoiled rotten!
However, at some point we realized this was just way more than we could handle. It was exhausting and heart-wrenching! Finally, we relented and contacted a breeder who had purchased some sheep before, and he happily rounded up five of them and escorted them to their new home. This helped greatly with the morning chores and the feed bill. But most of all, I learned to figure out my limit and 10 to 15 sheep is the limit. (Lesson: Learn your limits and seek solutions.)
Next week we will be rehoming 3 more sheep where they can flourish with a new family. This will reduce the flock even further and make room for the next lambing season. As I advance further into my 70’s, we will reduce the flock even more. It’s pretty hard to catch a 100 lb. animal to give it shots and deworm it. I have learned my limits. This reminds me of my earlier quest for more baby lambs. (Lesson: be careful what you wish for.)
This lambing season, I learned that 13 is not always a lucky number. Thirteen baby lambs in one season is a miracle to be sure, but it is just a bit more than I can handle even with the help of my loving partner.
Thankfully, God took care of our challenge.
As transcribed by Janie J from Pleiadians as part of an upcoming book.
Today we’ll discuss hearsay and the proper way to handle it. We (meaning all humans) do this. It can be a good thing or a not-so-good thing.
Hearsay is when you hear a story, event or situation and you repeat it to another, often embellishing it or exaggerating the event in an attempt to make the story-telling more interesting. The person may or may not realize just how dangerous this practice can be, so we want to shed some light upon this process.
Often the person who originates the statement doesn’t have the full facts about the event. Remember they are only relating the event through their eyes, often without considering other related factors. You could say their view is somewhat tainted. They aren’t doing this on purpose. It’s just their point of view.
The person who hears their recantation most likely will put their own spin on the event, adding or emphasizing the portion of the story most meaningful to them. For instance, if the event includes a small part about bees and they are deathly afraid or allergic to bees, then that part of the story gains emphasis or importance. To the original storyteller, bees are merely a side fact of little importance.
Do you see how one’s perception of an event just naturally shapes the story? Do you see how stories can become exaggerated, even to the point of being totally false? This is the quandary of hearsay.
That is not to say that hearsay is not important or has no value, for it certainly does. Think about the situation in early life on Earth. People would naturally want to warn others in their tribe about upcoming dangers like wild animals or treacherous terrain.
In times of cowboys and Indians one person known as the scout would ride ahead and return to the pack with news of any dangers. One would refer to this transfer of knowledge as hearsay.
Now let’s say the scout returned to his group with news of an upcoming danger. Then the leader would decide perhaps a new course of action, depending on the knowledge presented. You can only imagine if the hearsay data were not accurate, how the actions of the group could be too severe or not severe enough.
Visions come to mind of the following two scenarios. When the scout returns to say, “Indians are among us!” Perhaps it’s only a squaw woman with her children gathering berries (who can easily be avoided) in contrast to a full battalion of warrior-ready men. Quite a difference!
Winds of change
Sometimes blow.
We are afraid
But we can let go.
Let go of worries
Pain and strife.
God will bring us
A brand-new life.
This cycle of change
Is what it’s all about.
Life goes in seasons
Without a doubt.
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