centering [it was spoken in a word today] for 2009.

[and then, i stumbled upon this]


Centering [excerpt]

“But how are we to love when we are stiff and numb and disinterested? How are we to transform ourselves into limber and soft organisms lying open to the world at the quick? By what process and what agency do we perform the Great Work, transforming lowly materials into gold? Love, like its counterpart Death, is a yielding at the center. Not in the sentiment. Nor in the genitals. Look deep into my eyes and see the love-light. Figured forth in intelligent cooperation, sensitive congeniality, physical warmth. At the center the love must live. One gives up all that one has for this. This is the love that resides in the self, the self-love, out of which all love pours. The fountain, the source. At the center. One gives up all the treasured sorrow and self-mistrust, all the precious loathing and suspicion, all the secret triumphs of withdrawal. One bends in the wind. There are many disciplines that strengthen one’s athleticism for love. It takes all one’s strength. And yet it takes all one’s weakness too. Sometimes it is only by having all one’s so called strength pulverized that one is weak enough, strong enough, to yield. It takes that power of nature in one which is neither strength nor weakness but closer perhaps to virtu, person, personalized energy. Do not speak about strength and weakness, manliness and womanliness, aggressiveness and submissiveness. Look at this flower. Look at this child. Look at this rock with lichen growing on it. Listen to this gull scream as he drops through the air to gobble the bread I throw and clumsily rights himself in the wind. Bear ye one another’s burdens, the Lord said, and he was talking law. Love is not a doctrine, Peace is not an international agreement. Love and peace are beings who live as possibilities in us.”


- Mary Caroline Richards

at thirty-four [and contemplating what it means to die]

Gestalt at Sixty [excerpt]

I am not ready to die,
But I am learning to trust death
As I have trusted life.
I am moving
Toward a new freedom
Born of detachment,
And a sweeter grace—
Learning to let go.

I am not ready to die,
But as I approach sixty
I turn my face toward the sea.
I shall go where tides replace time,
Where my world will open to a far horizon.

Over the floating, never-still flux and change.
I shall go with the changes,
I shall look far out over golden grasses
And blue waters....

There are no farewells.

Praise God for His mercies,
For His austere demands,
For His light
And for His darkness.

- May Sarton

so. me.

The Straightener

Even as a boy I was a straightener.
On a long table near my window
I kept a lantern, a spyglass, and my tomahawk.

Never tomahawk, lantern and spyglass.
Always lantern, spyglass, tomahawk.
You cold never tell when you would need them,
but that was the order you would need them in.

On my desk: pencils at attention in a cup,
foreign coins stacked by size,

a photograph of my parents facing me,
and under the blotter with its leather corners,
a note from a girl I was fond of.

These days, it’s cans of soup in the pantry –
no, not alphabetical, it’s not like that –
just stacked in a pyramid beside
the white candles lying in rows like logs of wax.

And if I can avoid phoning my talkative aunt
on her eighty-something birthday,
or doing my taxes

I will measure with a ruler the space
between the comb and the brush on the dresser.
the distance between the shakers of salt and pepper.

And I will devote as much time as it takes
to line up my shoes in the closet,
pair by pair, in chronological order

or according to my degree of affection for them
if I can put off having to tell you, dear,
what I really think and what I now must do.


- Billy Collins

love. love.

all we have
is a very. short. while.

like the brief glimmer:
(asteroid. atmosphere.)
a flame. a fizzle.
and then, gone.

so, love.
love.

-j

Oceans.

I have a feeling that my boat
has struck, down there in the depths,
against a great thing.
And nothing
happens! Nothing...Silence...Waves...

— Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,
and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?

- Juan Ramón Jiménez

la façon de laisser aller.

i want nothing. except.
maybe. that my brother be taken care of. and
my cats. if only
i could be sure of these things, then it would
be okay.

the rest. do with what you will.
some live
their whole lives
barely clothed. with
nothing. they can call
their own. no
trinkets. no
treasures. and i? have
far more than one person
could possibly carry.
should
it come to that. say,
in case of fire or high water. so.

those things?
let my friends divvy for
what they wish. they all
have great taste. i am certain,
they'd appreciate the things
that granted me, for some while, on this planet
a sense of
home.

all things.
lose their meaning in context
eventually.
my grandfather's suspenders. too large
and long for me.
that heady cork. from a faraway
winter's forgotten plum wine. you buried
in your jewelry box then.
ticket stubs. art
supplies. favorite
socks. good writing
pens. disposable cameras
spent. but not.
developed. these
snapshots of a life.
become someone else's history to
the finder,
eventually.

as trite and opaque as the
polaroid as bookmark, tucked
in some thriftstore novel.
someone else's fiction. my life
will never hold truth
outside
my head. so.

i want nothing. except.
maybe. that my brother be taken care of. and
my cats. though
nothing. not
even
this
is guaranteed. even he,
Precious Boy,
will fade. and
those small-pawed footsteps fall
as silent
as
the photos undeveloped. briefly
captured. but
abandoned. yesterday's
dance. kinetic
paralysis. once warm, a
spirit now cold. and
forgotten as
that long ago taste
of one winter's
plum wine.

-j

do You really learn with me? do You really live through me? do You really embody all of this?

photo by christian kettiger


You glide between the heart and its casing as tears glide from the eyelid.
You dwell in my inwardness, in the depths of my heart, as souls dwell in bodies.
Nothing passes from rest to motion unless you move it in hidden ways,
O new moon.

- Hallaj (Mansur al-Hallaj)

being. schooled. [and thank you, stars, for reminding me to give what little i may have to give]

Instructions
. . .

So here are my instructions: Eyes,
do not dry up. Lungs, breathe deep,
give strength to shouts and songs.

And you, my heart, you have a lifelong task
to be a gate. Closing. Opening.
No matter what, no matter who

demands to be let in. You are only
the gate. No judgment. no questions,
no fear, my heart, but courage.


- Ilze Klavina Mueller

le bon mot du jour: read while studying jungian archetypes - reconciling the anima

"Ideals are fragile.
Stars fall.
I can cut the ruby hidden
in a pebble
into an everlasting jewel."

yet the Lord of both worlds will enter there.

photo by RayDS


The Mirror
(from The Secret Rose Garden)


Your eye has not strength enough
to gaze at the burning sun,
but you can see its burning light
by watching its reflection
mirrored in the water.

So the reflection of Absolute Being
can be viewed in the mirror of Not-Being,
for nonexistence, being opposite Reality,
instantly catches its reflection.

Know the world from end to end is a mirror;
in each atom a hundred suns are concealed.
If you pierce the heart of a single drop of water,
from it will flow a hundred clear oceans;
if you look intently at each speck of dust,
in it you will see a thousand beings.
A gnat in its limbs is like an elephant;
in name a drop of water resembles the Nile.
In the heart of a barleycorn is stored a hundred harvests.
Within a millet-seed a world exists.
In an insects wing is an ocean of life.
A heaven is concealed in the pupil of an eye.
The core at the center of the heart is small,
yet the Lord of both worlds will enter there.


-Mahmud Shabistari
English version by Florence Lederer

le bon mot du jour: read while studying hawk medicine.

"The destiny of all humankind is to awaken from their spiritual amnesia and re-align with the original intention of their soul."

- Sayahda -

dear,God.

what to do with
these tears?

refrigerator round-up: or what to do with leftover fondue veggies.

i'm famished tonight. truly. it's beyond hungry for me. it's an overly tired exhausted ache in my belly ... and i've ridden my bike over an hour and nearly ten miles to come home ready to chew on my thumb for relief. i've thought about food a lot today ... maybe to preoccupy my mind from other more weighty things ... maybe to absorb newfound energy via mental osmosis ... maybe because cooking for me is a passionate expression of art and i need some creative release. whatever the case, i'm truly happy with what i've devised. i have an overflowing fridger right now [thank G-d for the blessing], but it's little bits of chopped vegetables and things nearing their prime [and ... i cannot waste a thing ... thrifty mcgee, that's me]

after this weekend's fondue party, i was left with a seeming trillion quart-sized bags of steamed and/or chopped veggies. an odd pairing and odd amounts. but after a few moments of contemplating the sitch with my noodle, this is what i came up with.

to die [happily] for hodge-podge quesadillas

here's the
ingredients:
what i started with ... what i did with them:

various peppers cut in strips ... red, yellow, and orange ... chopped finely
little triangles of zucchini ... chopped finely
steamed baby potatoes ... chopped finely
mixed wild and red rice ... [from some other kitchen concoction, leftover]

add to that:
the tiniest bit of red onion ... chopped finely
half of a 15 oz. can of roman beans ...mashed slightly
fresh feta cheese ... crumbled
3 high protein tortillas just past their best by date, slightly stale ... even better for that crisp baked yum to come

---

now ... potatoes, rice, beans, tortillas??? sound like a lot to manage? i realized, the secret was restraint. placing the slightly stale tortilla round in a 9 x 6 baking dish, i lightly assembled an amount of each ingredient starting with the beans and then the rice, following with a splotch of veggies, and ending with the feta. and then rolled all three laying them side by side in pregnant glory. topping each with a little ladle of leftover organic salsa nearing its prime in my fridger, i scattered the remaining veggies on top of the red sauce and finished with a flourish of feta. into the oven on 375 for approximately 20 minutes, or until my house smelled unbearably delicious, i baked them until each tortilla was just beginning to golden.

holy moly, rolly quesadillas! they were good. i wished i could've shared 'em with you.

each morning.

regardless.
the birds sing each morning.
surely, they have something to teach
us.

dear G-d!! decadent good [for you] -ness shake.

meandering through my sunday afternoon, i'm past that time for lunch...and not quite at that time for dinner ... i'm not really hungry, and don't want to snack ... but i have that craving for something to give me energy and satisfy the desire for something tasty ... i think i came up with just the thing.

ingredients and directions:

mix
1 cup chocolate unsweetened almond milk
4 tbs hemp protein powder
2 tbs dark cacoa powder
1 tbs chia seeds
2 tbs agave nectar
ice

give a whir in a blender and drink with a rich, sweet smile on your face.
mmmm, mmmm good!

truth.

there is so much wisdom found
in just sitting with
what is.

and whatever work, you are doing in me, i say, please, do it...[what is good to remember]

because You believe in me
i have grace to greet each morning sun with joy,
even when my heart is broken,
even when it seems i don't know which way to go.
i will continue on
putting one step before the other.
and i know,
you know
what it is like to walk alone,
even yet -
you are always with me.

and though i see with such limited sight,
i know,
even when my vision grows dim...
that there is a cloud of wise counselors about me,
and unseen angels who lift me up.
i have seen you move heaven and earth on my behalf.
i have seen you touch hearts and change circumstances
that seemed too hard for me to bear.
and i have seen you stand with me
through storms i feared were too great for me to endure.
therefore, i will not fear -
even when it seems i cannot see any hope for a future.

i know each moment is the whole of my life,
and it is holy.
and it is blessed.
and it is good.
it is as simple as that.

so i thank you for this moment,
for this life that you grant me,
breath by breath.
and with each inhale, i breathe in your spirit,
and with each exhale, i breathe out your love.
may it always be thus,
as i am your child.

and to love you,
and to love your world,
with a child's heart is
a great and wondrous gift.
[selah]

then comes the moment ... [i believe].

UNFOLD YOUR OWN MYTH
(excerpt)


Who gets up early to discover the moment light begins?


Who lets a bucket down and brings
up a flowing prophet? Or like Moses goes for fire
and finds what burns inside the sunrise?


Jesus slips into a house to escape enemies,
And opens a door to the other world.
Solomon cuts open a fish, and there's a gold ring.
Omar storms to kill the prophet
and leaves with blessings.


But don't be satisfied with stories, how things
have gone with others. Unfold
your own myth, without complicated explanation,
so everyone will understand the passage,
We have opened you.


Start walking toward Shams. Your legs will get heavy
and tired. Then comes the moment
of feeling the wings you've grown,
lifting.


-rumi
translation by coleman barks

Pir - [a new hope is born in my heart ]

Pir


Inspirer of my mind, consoler of my heart, healer of my spirit,
Thy presence lifteth me from earth to heaven,
Thy words flow as the sacred river,
Thy thought riseth as a divine spring,
Thy tender feelings awaken sympathy in my heart.

Beloved Teacher, thy very being is forgiveness.
The clouds of doubt and fear
are scattered by thy piercing glance.
All ignorance vanishes in thy illuminating presence.
A new hope is born in my heart
by breathing thy peaceful atmosphere.


Hazrat Inayat Khan

please...

...don't ever underestimate
the transformative power
of the words,


i believe in you.



[they just might grant someone with ragged, tired hope, the vision
that is okay to begin the world over again]

the body remembers what the heart, with grace, wills to forget.

Today. It's painful.
The memory of how I trusted her so completely.
That night she came home at dawn.
The ten thousand ways she shattered my heart;
Sometimes I feel the prick of each shard.
Those endless moments of dying,
Of watching her heart cool to stone.
I loved her still, but love, for her was too much.
[Perfect Love casts out all fear.]
But she, she chose fear instead.

Why I had to face the dragon.

I thought of it this morning as I geared up to mount my faithful steed sojourner truth. I thought of it as I rode home from lea b's art show in the dark. I thought of it yesterday morning and the evening before that. I thought of it as I rode, eyeing the hypnotic white line at the avenue's edge block after block for miles. I've been troubled by a vision these last few days and nights, and I knew I had to find it today.

I was riding so very purposefully Monday, on my way to work, and making good time when it sailed by in my peripheral. I hadn't been sure I'd seen it correctly and turned that quick second to look. Sure enough it was there in the fast fading distance, lying straight as an arrow in the gutter, like the treasure of a once and future king.

"Where did it come from?" I wondered as I pressed forward. I had already suppressed the instinct to turn around and rescue it, and already doubted my decision. It didn't take me long to piece together a theory, a quarter mile up the road laid a fallen action figure, and further, a broken fire truck…no doubt, some child's dreams dropped unseen by a moving truck…lost without notice along the way.

But it was the sword that haunted me. Buzz Lightyears are familiar. Toy fire trucks, non-descript. But there was so much soul and handiwork poured into crafting this child's vision. The straight reed of a palm frond dragged around no doubt to approximate a tip…a crossguard and pommel of paper and clumsy tape at the hilt. I knew I had to find it again. It was too significant a loss to allow the wind and rain and traffic to claim it to oblivion.

I rode that night and again the next morning…another evening and later…a night again looking for it…imagining some child knight lost and heartbroken in some strange and foreign new home castle. I awoke again this morning thinking of it, and rode, more slowly this time, scanning the long, white line of the gutter and taking inventory of my surroundings with each new mile.

And as I trudged on…there it was! Somebody had no doubt, thrown it toward the bushes, and there it lay on its side…waiting…with resplendent intent. I had to brake hard to stop. Dismounting, I considered the coming traffic, how far I would have to run back to retrieve it, and pulled my steed to the side for safety.

In an instant, my adult world of work commute faded, and I knew this seeming crazy quest was infinitely important. It was that split second when I also heard the dragon. I moved forward, hearing my road shoes crunch against the still dew-wet morning grass. Such ferociousness! Unseen, a large and angry dog informed me of how long his teeth were, and how much he'd like me to feel them pierce my flesh.

We were making a scene. Me, errant proxy for the destitute child-knight, and this dragon of a howling dog, snarling and screaming from the bushes. I made sure the fence was high as his guttural barking grew louder and more desperate. Having reached the sword then that lay just beyond his reach, I wheeled around and thrust it victoriously into the air.

It was a ridiculous sight as I rode past mothers dutifully delivering their little ones to school…principal and crossing guards, drinking coffee…and other adults making their way by me in cars on the way to work. There I was riding along like Peter Pan's lost boy, balancing my treasured sword first this way, balancing it further along, yet another.

All I could see was rescuing this child's dream. It was as if, had I left this sword to simply fade away, the dream also, would die with it. And who can say, we can't rescue the wonder of childhood this way? And who can know for certain, to fight as a brave knight, isn't somehow this child's destiny? Perhaps, in some future and modern construct, this child-knight will be commissioned to fight a great and fearsome battle. And so much heart…so much spirit invested in even child's play rings with truth the clarion call of a journey's purpose.

Maybe this fledgling hero will brave new frontiers in medicine or physics? Maybe she will be a great visionary, inspiring sweeping social change and peace? Whatever the dragon be, I will cherish the latent vision like some otherworldly benefactress…and in this way grant the tender-budding child's heart the nobility of honouring its truth. And even as she grows becoming, may her journey - and all heroes like her - be marked with wisdom, grace, and strength.

a neurotic nellie's ode to her lunchbox.

i like tiffin tins. how smartly they fit together. i like their compact utility. it appeals to my neurotic sensibilities. i like that you don't have to worry about bisphenol a or pvcs leaching into your foods from petroleum based plastics. i like that it minimizes packaging and waste. i like that it can weather being bungeed to my bike. i like being creative in such a small space. i like mostly that it is traditional and Indian and simple. i wanted a tiffin tin for a very long time. naturally, since i haven't yet been to India, when i finally found them here in the States [unexpectedly], i bought 3: a triple decker, smaller, and smallest...and i feel. every. day. i use them, they are a small wonder to be celebrated. enjoy. and bon appetite.

Please survey the tiny glory that is a tiffin tin lunch HERE.

Refrigerator Roundup: Between Seasons Summer/Fall Samedi Soiree.

Having wheeled home yet another bike load of fabulous vegetables from my favorite Farmer's market, I spent Saturday night cooking what I couldn't fit into my too-tiny coldbox. After surveying all the veggies still on hand from the last trip, and what would likely be the first to pale from most recent one, I decided to throw together these two down-home delights. While the butternut squash hints at the Fall that is still yet to come, I like pretending we are actually going to feel a change of seasons here in the Deep South, and winter squashes are my favorite staple veggies to have on hand…they keep well without refrigeration for a long time, and singlehandedly, make a stew a meaty, meatless delight…toss with some beans and cook-up for a hearty meal that even a carnivore would love.


Spicy Butternut Squash and Pinto Frijole Achiote Stew

Ingredients:
One butternut squash, Peeled and Cut into approx. 1 inch chunks.
2-3 small yellow onions, skinned and chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
1 orange pepper, chopped
4-6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 can or 2 cups beans your choice…I used pinto beans.
4-6 chopped tomatoes, or you can cheat like I did and use 1 can prepared chopped tomatoes.
Approx 1 tbs Achiote [Annato seeds]
2 tbs Olive Oil
Approx. 4 dried red chiles.
Cumin
Paprika
Cayenne

Preparation:
Assemble and prepare all of your vegetables.
**Tip: I find it easiest to peel a butternut squash if it is microwaved for approximately one minute before cutting.

Heat olive oil over medium heat in a Dutch oven or 4 quart pot.

Add the chopped onion, begin to stir until translucent.

Add the garlic, stir.

Add the achiote, stir until it begins to dissolve. The onions and garlic will immediately color golden.

Add the green and orange pepper and stir.

Once everything has begun to season, Add the butternut squash, continue to cook until the squash begins to brown ever so slightly at the edges.

Add the beans, stir.

Add the tomatoes, stir.

Season liberally with cumin, cayenne, and paprika.

Reduce heat to a simmer, cover and let it cook until the flavors meld and everything begins to soften a bit – approx 20-30 minutes.

Remove dried chiles before serving.

**For outright belly-lovin' decadence, serve over cornbread or polenta – in a word, yum.


Saturday night, I also threw together this southern delight. While the orange juice hints at Summer, the shallots complete the dish with a savory sophistication. I was very pleased at the result…and to think, I had previously only taken the time to compost the greens…I had no idea what I was missing out on!

Beet Greens with Caramelized Shallots and Balsamic Orange Glaze

Ingredients:
One bunch Beet Greens, rinsed well – stems cut into 1-2 inch pieces, leaves cut into ribbons
2tbs. olive oil
2-3 shallots, skinned and thinly sliced
One orange, skinned and cut into segments or
Approximately 1/3 cup of orange juice
Splash of white balsamic vinegar
Pinch of raw or brown sugar
Coarse sea salt; pepper to taste

Preparation:
Rinse the beet greens thoroughly…these tend to be gritty buggers. I prefer to fill a bowl with ice and water and baptize them several times letting the sand to dislodge into sediment at the bottom of the bowl. It is not necessary to dry thoroughly…I just give them a shake or two before cooking.

Heat olive oil in a medium sauté pan over medium heat.

When warmed, drop the shallots with a sizzle into the pan…brown slowly, stirring often.

When the shallots have cooked past translucent and are beginning to brown, throw in a pinch of sugar

Follow with a splash of balsamic, cover and allow to reduce.

Add the greens and stir to coat.

Continue stirring until the leaves of the greens begin to give up their water and reduce.

Add the orange segments…add the orange juice.

Salt and Pepper to taste.

Once again cover, reduce heat and allow simmering until it reduces.

Serve up steaming hot, and try to eat just one serving.

falling down, being undone, and the great immutable law of Love.

I fell down this morning, and it hurt.
Accidents, mishaps, catastrophes — they all happen like that, so suddenly. Your world spins in the momentum which leaves you wondering, "what happened?" for a disorienting space of time before you can make sense of the…this…led to that…perspective.

I was making my way by bike on the road to work, and all of the sudden I was bleeding on the sidewalk. It was shocking at first. And then, it hurt. And then, it became clearer with each passing minute, as the blood pooled beneath my skin in a feverish swell of black and blue, that it was going to hurt worse.

I am lucky.
There were 4 cars that did not hit me.
I am lucky.
I was catapulted to the side of the road, even as my bike was launched over me.
I am lucky.
It is merely a flesh wound.
I am lucky.
There was a safe place to stop nearby where I could address the immediate pain, and assess the damage.

Some ice, and tenderness, and a cleansing cold wash with a rag, and a friendly cup of coffee later, I was on my way again…straining a bit at first, against the twisted memory of a new pain…I continued – and finished – my journey.

And the whole while, a somber thought, I carried in the pocket of my heart. It was there like an unspoken dawning, the awareness of what day this is.

I thought of it
as I awoke this morning.

I thought of it
as I listened to coverage and remembrances on NPR as I readied for work.

I thought of it
as my friend hastily put together a compress of ice for my bruised and bleeding knees.

I thought of it
as she sat across from me – of how she was there – in that city caring for frightened children on that terrible day.

I thought of it
as I considered the countless others whose lives are forever, irreversibly changed.

Those who lost fathers, and mothers, and brothers, and sisters, and daughters, and sons, and lovers, and friends.

Those who lost comfort, and safety, and security, and focus, and vision, and purpose, and dreams, and perhaps even faith, or hope, or love.

And I thought of it
even as my wounds simply smart, how they are just a temporary grief.


And grief is like this. It changes who we are. It causes us to re-evaluate our journey.

We come to grief, often so unexpectedly, so suddenly, our whole lives

Stop,

and unravel, and are undone.

We are opened up in a way that seems we have no choice but to hurt. We are often shocked. We are hurting. We are so immobile for a while, even as the world continues to spin. We are frightened, or angry, or despondent, or heartbroken. We are raw.

But we are still here. And this grief has now – regardless of our choosing – become a part of who we are. It is now a part of our journey…which will end, now and here, if we stay in this place. But now/here is nowhere…and even as we come to an acceptance of this change, we must keep moving.

And this is no easy task. How is it when we lose all sense of what we know as sure that we can know which way to go? It is helpful to remember, and has become a touchstone for my own life…that choosing the path of love will always expand our horizons, while choosing the path of self-protection, or hatred, or fear, will always lead to a diminished, closed-off, narrow existence.

If I had refused to get back on my bike, I would not be here/now…it is embracing with an open heart each new moment that will slowly bring us back to life with grace.

And it is loving, really loving when we are challenged. When our world is devastated. When our heart is crushed. When we lose everything. When we are broken. When someone would wish to do us harm. When we are stripped of everything we could ever hold as dear to us, that we can know for certain. Only love is real. [and living and giving that love is our highest purpose.]and,it is this great truth, that is scryed upon my heart –


All love is expansion, all selfishness is contraction.
Love is therefore the only law of life.
He who loves lives, he who is selfish is dying.
Therefore love for love's sake,
because it is law of life,
just as you breathe to live.


- Swami Vivekananda -

le bon mot du jour: bien-aimé, je t'aime tellement ça fait mal

No one gets to heaven
by following the rules
– or breaking them.
Heaven must burst forth from your breast.


IVAN M. GRANGER

it's pretty simple.

stale donuts.

stale glazed cake donuts
remind me of
micheline eleanor

and that

makes me

happy

Hoooooo-rah! Women for Women: how and why.

Hoooooo-rah! I just received my sponsorship packet in the mail today from Women for Women International.

For those of you who don't know, Women for Women is an award-winning nonprofit organization dedicated to improving the lot of women in war-torn countries. What makes Women for Women so incredible is that it builds one-to-one connections between sponsors [people like you and me] and women survivors of war in currently 8 different countries. Often times, these women, are socially excluded [due to their status as widows, or victims of war] and often, they are their family's sole breadwinner and caregiver.

Realizing that financial assistance alone is not enough, Women for Women helps women survivors develop marketable skills, cultivate an understanding of their rights and potential as women, and create secure ways to earn an income for years to come. In so doing, women can gradually overcome the horrors of war and civil strife — family loss and widowhood, rape, murder, forced migration, poverty, starvation, trafficking and torture — and gain the strength and stature that can help them rebuild their lives, families, and communities.

You can sponsor a woman, which entails a $27/month donation. $5 of this donation keeps the organization running, and the rest provides your sister with staples for her family, and pays for job and rights-awareness training. Depending on where and how educated your sister is, you may be able to correspond with her. At the end of one year, each woman "graduates".

The upshot is — this organization helps women in warn torn countries find each other, recover, start self-sustaining businesses, and apply for micro-credit — regularly demonstrating world-wide,

That one woman can change anything.

But…

MANY WOMEN CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING.


Why did I choose to become involved? Because I believe…to whom much is given, much is required. We have so, so much here in America…and no distance physically or geographically between my life here and my sister's in Rwanda makes foreign to me her basic desire to live and care for her family. She is 6 years younger than me, with 5 children…but if it is true [and I believe] that we are all interconnected…the basic welfare and well-being of a woman and her children half a world away matters to me when I go to sleep every night with a roof over my head, and wake up to the security of food to eat. I don't have a lot by this society's standards, [I arise early each morning to pack up and bike 10 miles to work], but I have an overwhelming abundance by comparison to hers…and I believe no act of love or compassion is ever insignificant. I did the research on this organization and was so moved by the personal difference they are making in women's lives, and so I decided to take the risk to reach out to someone who has known a very different life than mine. It is through building bridges between hearts like this that I believe, in this day of apathy or outright violence, we can mend the fabric of the world creating a future of hope for all our children.

-jen


hope you're interested. here's some nifty links:

Women for Women

Charity Navigator Guide to Intelligent Giving

imagining world.

photo by michael wilson



In my dream,
the angel shrugged
& said, If we
fail this time, it
will be a failure of
imagination


& then she placed the world
gently in the palm of my hand.


BRIAN ANDREAS

that nifty poet John Keats, and some thoughts on suffering.

"In a letter written back in 1819, the British poet John Keats refers to the world not as a vale of tears, but as "the vale of soulmaking." He says, "Do you not see how necessary a World of Pains and Troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a Soul? A Place where the heart must feel and suffer in a thousand diverse ways!"

i am so struck by how similar this is to Jung's concept of the Soul's path toward individuation by facing and incorporating its 'shadow side.' we all have a shadow side...and it is a sacred duty toward adulthood to hold no illusions about that reality within us...and in facing the darker places within us, we are inevitably opened up to pain and grief...how interesting that, especially in this culture, we are conditioned to think that pain and suffering are a result of something having gone wrong in our journey...of having, perhaps, taken a wrong turn...but the reality is...pain and suffering are universal...and a wholehearted acceptance of this truth is so often the key that can unlock and open our heart to a more encompassing love and compassion than we could ever imagine. As the writer Ram Dass expressed when discussing the spiritual lessons found in suffering a stroke:

"Greater suffering elicits higher consciousness."

and so it is, wisdom and maturity is found in not shutting down, but opening ever wider your heart.

be still and know. or, why i am continually on the path of silence.

photo by gregory colbert

Listen, my heart, as only
saints have listened: until some enormous call
lifted them off the ground; yet still they knelt,
those impossible people, undistracted by the
sound,
intent on listening. Not that you could endure
the voice of God, far from it. But hear what is
whispering,
the endless message forming itself from silence.


RAINER MARIA RILKE

le bon mot du jour. blessed impermanence

In pursuit of the world,
One gains more and more.

In pursuit of the Way, one gains less and less.

Loss upon loss until at last comes rest.

When nothing is done, nothing remains undone.

LAO TZU

from the Tao Te Ching

why i will gladly be undone by You, Beloved, over and over, again.

HOLY GROUND

Let the vision
of the vastness
you are
leave you
in glorious
ruins.

Pilgrims will come
to imagine
the grand temple
that once stood,
not realizing

the wreck
made this empty plain
holy ground.

IVAN M. GRANGER

her name was Lung Ta, and still i trust, the Great Giver of Gifts.

So. I've been thinking a lot about my car…and how before I even drove it off the lot, I remember praying…and offering it as a blessing to the Giver of Gifts…saying, "This car is a miracle…and it is Yours. This car does not belong to me. This car belongs to You. And I am so very honoured to make use of it. And so, I consecrate it to you. Watch over it, and guide me therein to do your will." And I named my car, Lung Ta, which is to say…it embodied for me, the Great Spirit of the Windhorse…and I knew each day that my car belonged to God, and that its function was to carry me to my next level. Both metaphorically, and literally, she was my Windhorse Rising. And so, though it was a great, great grief…to…in one split second, see her beautiful, striped bonnet hood crumple over and over and over again [as it replayed in my head]…I knew even then…with such an odd sense of peace, that I could trust, even this was a gift…this was somehow her destiny, and part of her plan to bring me to the next great height in my own journey. And I remember this, as I gear up each morning…come wind, come rain…to ride to work. With each turn of my bicycle wheels and with the sweat of my brow…I trust the good that is inherent in this seeming grief. I have lost so, so much in my lifetime, and know that the more we hold on to things with clenched fists, the less we can either give or receive. And I know…true miracles can occur when we are stripped of our own glory…when we possess no strength in and of ourselves. These are the things of the Spirit, and they are more sure…and greater than we could even ask or imagine. [So even in her passing, I trust]

i think...what i am trying to say, is so beautifully illustrated as thus. it is so very good to remember.

capuchin I by debra swartzendruber

The king and the beggar's gift.

A difficult or unwanted thing can turn out to be a great gift. Frequently we receive unknown gifts in disguise. There is a wonderful old story told of a young king who took over a kingdom. He was loved before he became a king, and his subjects were delighted when he was finally crowned. They brought him many different gifts. After the coronation, the new king was at supper in the palace. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The servants went out to discover an old man shabbily dressed, looking like a beggar. He wanted to see the king. The servants did their best to dissuade him, but to no avail. The king came out to meet him. The old man praised the king, saying how wonderful he was and how delighted everyone in the kingdom was to have him as king. He had brought the king the gift of a melon. The king hated melons. But being kind to the old man, he took the melon, thanked him, and the old man went away happy. The king went indoors and gave the melon to his servants to throw out in the back garden.

The next week at the same time, there was another knock at the door. The king was summoned again and the old man praised the king and offered him another melon. The king took the melon and said good-bye to the old man. Once again, he threw the melon out the back door. This continued for several weeks. The king was too kind to confront the old man or belittle the generosity of the gift that he brought.

Then, one evening, just as the old man was about to hand the melon to the king, a monkey jumped down from a portico in the palace and knocked the melon from the old man's hand. The melon shattered in pieces all over the front of the palace. When the king looked, he saw a shower of diamonds flying from the heart of the melon. Eagerly, he checked the garden at the back of the palace. There all the melons had melted around a little hillock of jewels.

The moral of this story is that sometimes awkward situations, problems, or difficulties are really disguised opportunities for growth.

Very often at the heart of the difficulty, there is the light of a great jewel. It is wise to learn to embrace with hospitality that which is awkward and difficult.

- excerpted from "Anam Cara" by John O'Donohue

what is. [for now, we know in part]

"Our ordinary waking consciousness is but one form of consciousness.
All around us lie infinite worlds,
separated only by the thinnest veils."

- William James -

to keep opening wider my heart.

OPEN

It is a small step to remember
how life led to this
moment's hesitation.

How the door to the deeper world
opens, letting the body fall at last,
toward the few griefs it can call its own.

Oh yes, I know. Our wings catch fire
in that downward flight
and we come to earth afraid
we can never fly again.

But then we always knew
heaven would be a desperate place.
Everything you desired coming
in one fearful moment
to greet you.

Your full presence only in rest
and the love that asks nothing.
The rest where you lie down
and are no longer found at all.

- DAVID WHYTE -

listening to that big, full moon.

i am thinking a lot about how we are more and more illuminated...we are able to reflect more light, the more transparent and open we become...as empty vessels we are able to serve...we are able to be filled, the more we are poured out.

living fully [is honoring the great sacrament].

A beautiful phrase of Hegel's is...
"Die Wunden des Geistes heilen, ohne dass Narben bleiben";

"The wounds of the spirit heal and leave no scars."

There is healing for each of our wounds, but this healing is waiting in the indirect, oblique, and nonanalytic side of our nature.

We need to be mindful of where we are damaged,
Then invite our deeper soul in its night-world to heal this wounded tissue,
renew us,
and bring us back into unity.

If we approach our hurt indirectly and kindly,
it will heal.

Creative expectation brings you healing and renewal.
If you could trust your soul,
you would receive every blessing you require.

Life itself is the
great sacrament
through which we are
wounded and healed.

If we live everything,
life will be faithful to us.

- from "Anam Cara" by John O'Donohue -

like eleanor said.

so...i've begun riding my bike to work...not just as an eco-responsible, cost-effective practice...but now, as my car was recently totaled, as a necessity. it's one thing to ride as a choice...which i had done...regularly...and that is certainly something to feel good about.

but it's another thing altogether to ride because you have to.

when you ride because you have to, it doesn't matter how far you have to go. it doesn't matter if you're tired. it doesn't matter if you have a lot of things to carry. it doesn't matter if you're behind. it doesn't matter if you don't want to. it doesn't matter if you're sick. it doesn't matter if it's frighteningly dark. it doesn't matter if it's raining, or hailing, or sweltering hot. you simply must do.

and there's naturally an amount of forethought and planning involved in order to consider every possibility. but the thing is, the reward is such a sweet, sweet knowing...of knowing you can test your limits and push yourself through every and any obstacle that may arise along the path. it is the opportunity to become intimately acquainted with your resilience...and ultimately to know...without a shadow of a doubt...that:

you must [and can] do the thing you thought you could not do.

more beautiful with salt.

metempsychosis

Some stories last many centuries,
others only a moment.
All alter over that lifetime like beach-glass,
grow distant and more beautiful with salt.

Yet even today, to look at a tree
and ask the story Who are you? is to be transformed.

There is a stage in us where each being, each thing, is a mirror.

Then the bees of self pour from the hive-door,
ravenous to enter the sweetness of flowering nettles and thistle.

Next comes the ringing a stone or violin or empty bucket
gives off —
the immeasurable’s continuous singing,
before it goes back into story and feeling.

In Borneo, there are palm trees that walk on their high roots.
Slowly, with effort, they lift one leg then another.

I would like to join that stilted transmigration,
to feel my own skin vertical as theirs:
an ant-road, a highway for beetles.

I would like not minding, whatever travels my heart.
To follow it all the way into leaf-form, bark-furl, root-touch,
and then keep walking, unimaginably further.

- Jane Hirshfield -

mindful transportation.

having recently been involved in a car accident that totalled my incredibly dependable and safe [read: visceral, personal experience] 2006 MINI Cooper, i am mindfully considering all my options for transportation in a suburban environment with woefully difficult public transport. that it would take me over 2 hours to get only 9 miles and remotely close to my job from home [even then i would have to walk a mile from any busstop to my end destination] is no exaggeration. and given my personal commitment to green, sustainable living and thrill to cycling, it makes far more sense [and would save a great deal of time] to bike the round-trip 20 miles each day to work...[this is something i did often, weather permitting before this most recent turn of events]...but when you must depend on your bike for transportation, a full awareness of some facts are important.

so naturally, in the nerdy way that i do...i have delved into all of the research regarding traffic statistics and my now necessary mode of travel. and, it is a sobering perlustration. as gas prices will undoubtedly continue to rise [despite the occasional abatement], there will be more and more people taking to the roads with alternative modes of transportation. please take a moment to survey these statistics. they are the most recent available listing of fatalities to bicyclists as compiled by NHTSA the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.

as you can see...the state of Florida [my home state]...has earned quite a dubious distinction. by comparison, we suffer the greatest number of fatalities [131, statewide in 2006: 7.3 persons/millions in population]. only California registers a higher number [141, statewide in 2006], but California also registers twice the number of residents [3.87 persons/millions in population] meaning our traffic fatalities by comparison occur at double the rate. there's even a state sponsored study that concludes that because we are "the sunshine state" [read: more hours of daylight] and because we have a higher-than-average poverty rate, Floridians suffer a higher traffic vs. pedestrian and traffic vs. cyclist fatality rate. nice conclusion...now, may we all work toward a solution.

Visit the League of American Bicyclists to read more and take action. and please, please...drive mindfully and share the road.



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tonglen.

breathing in. i take in all who are physically weary this morning...whose heart's hurts have made them tired.
breathing out. may a sense of strength and peace from deep within rise to comfort and grant them grace for today.

breathing in. i take in all who find themselves in the midst of great and unexpected change. who are not certain what direction their life is to take or even what step to take from this moment.
breathing out. may they pause in this pure place of unattachment to any foreseen outcome. may they feel the deep peace and wisdom of not-knowing. may they sit past the noise until the place where everything becomes clear

breathing in. i take in all who have been undone...shattered in a million pieces like a great window, broken.
breathing out. may each tiny, broken piece of them exponentially reflect the light. may the beauty of the magnitude of glory that filters through such vulnerable transparency transform their vision...and sanctify their life, even as they are refashioned.

om mani padme hum.
om mani padme hum.
om mani padme hum.

selah.

In a world where there are people
who assume you no longer exist,
I am compelled to proclaim Your praises, O God.
I cannot define or describe You,
But I know by personal experience
Your power and presence in my life.
There was a time when I screamed,
"Good Lord, where are You?"
Then you touched my despairing soul with healing,
and delivered me from my private little hell.
Thus I shout God's praises
and exhort all who know Him to do the same.
There are times when I feel God's anger,
but even then I know
His concern and love for me remain eternal.
And my nights of despair
resolve into the dawn of new joy.

There was a time when I thought I was secure
amidst my material accumulations.
However, they gathered like a cloud
to blot out the face of God,
and I was left empty and unfulfilled.

I finally came to my senses
and returned to You, O God.
"Lord," I said, "my well-deserved damnation
would also be a loss to You.

I cannot praise You from the pits of hell
or proclaim Your loving-kindness
out of the grave of eternal death.
So have mercy, Lord,
and help me out of this tangled web."

And You turned my griping into gratitude,
my screams of despair into proclamations of joy.
Now I can explode with praises,
and I will spend eternity in thanksgiving to You.


- the 30th Psalm, the Bible -
[translation: Psalms/Now by Leslie Brandt]

le bon mot du jour: from learning the lesson to living the lesson - or where i find myself. right. now.

When we really see other people as they are without taking it personally, we can never be hurt by what they say or do. Even if others lie to you, it is okay. They are lying to you because they are afraid. They are afraid you will discover that they are not perfect. It is painful to take that social mask off. If others say one thing, but do another, you are lying to yourself if you don't listen to their actions. But if you are truthful with yourself, you will save yourself a lot of emotional pain. Telling yourself the truth about it may hurt, but you don't need to be attached to the pain. Healing is on its way, and it's just a matter of time before things will be better for you.

If someone is not treating you with love and respect, it is a gift if they walk away from you. If that person doesn't walk away, you will surely endure many years of suffering with him or her. Walking away may hurt for a while, but your heart will eventually heal. Then you can choose what you really want. You will find that you don't need to trust others as much as you need to trust yourself to make the right choices.


- from "The Four Agreements" by
Don Miguel Ruiz -

all that is not given is lost.

so there was this woman who called me at work to inquire about our homebound service...and it became apparent as she wandered through her questions [she was hoping to get a particular book before school began for her students to use in her classroom]...that she had recently found herself in the predicament of being [as she said]...handicapped [and then, she said...i don't like that word]...and i sensed her challenges to mobility were a new thing...and here she was on the phone with me...trying to find a way...still focused on something she obviously cared very much about [teaching]...because she only has transport, apparently, to the doctor and to work...and yet, she was trying, desperately, to find a way...to prepare for the coming school year...to do...what in the past, may have been so much easier...without thought or planning or consequence of being confined to [as she called it] this chair. and the minutes ticked on as she plied me with questions about everything...about our service...about the possibility of getting this book sent to her...about the possibility of having it sent to her local library if her son could pick it up...about how that process works...about our courier system...about how she would be notified...about how she could know what other items,titles,books could be available to her...and it was abundantly clear that for every question i answered, the possibilities were igniting a hundred other inquiries in her mind. and i realized i was glad, i could take the time...even though my head feels as though it is splitting open...and my blood sugar at 540 is forcibly closing my eyes and weighing on my chest making it hard to breathe...and i'm overwhelmed about not having a car, and all of the people i'm supposed to follow up with...but right now...in this moment...i'm in conversation with her...and i'm getting a sense of all the people she's talked to just to get to me...and how much time it's taken to get a simple question answered...and i feel that all of the ways i'm running up against a brick wall...is just a momentary experience of all of the challenges this woman has newly found herself in...and i'm humbled at the thought of this...at all i have...and, in this moment, though i've never met her, i can sense her pain...and i find myself leaning into all of her questions, and when i have negotiated all of the best ways i can be of service to her...she exclaims, "you know, i've talked to a lot of people today...and most people have been really mean...i mean, i know people are busy, but they have not been helpful...and i want to thank you, because you've been helpful...and you've taken your time...NO...MORE!! than helpful...and i'm really amazed at how much, how willingly you've helped me...i mean, it really makes a difference! you should know this."...and i don't tell her...and i hope she cannot hear it in my voice, that i'm about to cry...but i tell her with a hushed voice, "that. really means so...very much to me". and "you know, ms....[.......]....isn't it what this is all about? i mean, if you called, and i was rude to you, wouldn't i just really be having a more miserable day? and when we can stop and realize this is all we have...and it's infinitely more beautiful and rich because of the connections we can make with one another, than i have to tell you, honestly, that i am honoured because the pleasure is all mine." and it caused me to consider how often we live in our own heads...i honestly felt very weary picking up the phone...and being bombarded with questions was at this point...a physical and emotional challenge...but even as i am experiencing my own pain...in the moment i could make straight the path for this woman for whom so much has been pain of late...i also felt such a sweet joy. and it doesn't matter all of the ways i feel i lack right now...physically...financially...even emotionally [after so much unexpected transition, of late], i feel as though i am a wealthy, wealthy woman, indeed. rich in love. rich in spirit. [and isn't this all we really need?].

le bon mot du jour: beyond fear lies a state of openheartedness and tenderness.

Confess your hidden faults.

Approach what you find repulsive.

Help those you think you cannot help.

Anything you are attached to, let it go.

Go to places that scare you.

- Advice from her teacher to theTibetan Yogini

Machik Labrön -

tonglen.

breathing in. i take in all of the uncertainty...for everyone all over the world whose life seems beyond their grasp right now. in this moment.
breathing out. i offer peace. the peace that passes understanding. may it flood each and every person's heart. right now. may they be content to just sit with what is.

breathing in. i take in everyone who is facing a seeming insurmountable task or instability. right now.
breathing out. i acknowledge with them. for them. that everything will come together. just. as it should.

breathing in. i take in every heartache for everyone who is brokenhearted.
breathing out. i offer comfort...like a warm wash. may love and peace flood their soul.

breathing in. i take in everyone whose heart gets caught up racing ahead with fear or insecurity about their future.
breathing out. i rest with them. for them. in this sacred moment. now/here.

om mani padme hum.
om mani padme hum.
om mani padme hum.

gratitude for abundance.

for each breath today. thank you.
that my eyes can see today. thank you.
for food and strength to eat today. thank you.
for clothing and shoes and a job to ready for today. thank you.
for every time the world smiles at me today. thank you.
for my heart that feels so deeply even as it is broken. today. thank you.
for the comfort of knowing that even when there was no one to turn to, i was never alone. thank you.
for carrying me - always - like a mother with child. today. i thank you.
for sanctuary like a bird finds shelter in the strong arms of a tree. thank you.
for sweet, sweet, peace when i would grow anxious. thank you.
for even the chance to thank you. i say today. thank you.

deconstructing the dream.

photo by jerry curtis


Tear Down This House

A hundred thousand new houses can be built
from the transparent yellow carnelian buried beneath

and the only way to get to that
is to do the work of demolishing and then

digging under the foundation. With that value
in hand all the new construction will be done

without effort. And anyway, sooner or later this house
will fall on its own. The jewel treasure will be

uncovered, but it won't be yours then. The buried
wealth is your pay for doing the demolition,

the pick and the shovel work. If you wait and just
let it happen, you'll bite your hand and say,

"I didn't do as I knew I should have." This
is a rented house. You don't own the deed.

You have a lease, and you've set up a little shop,
where you barely make a living sewing patches

on torn clothing. Yet only a few feet underneath
are two veins, pure red and bright gold carnelian.

Take the pickaxe and pry the foundation.
You've got to quit this seamstress work.

What does the patch-sewing mean you ask? Eating
and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body

is always getting torn. You patch it with food
and other restless ego satisfactions. Rip up

one board from the shop floor and look into
the basement. You'll see two glints in the dirt.

- rumi -

and i trust in the miraculous provision of the Divine [selah].

and the thing is,
i've been here before
when every possibility of strength
or provision on my part
is swept away
like so many small crumbs on a table
and all that remains,
all i can do,
is trust

i choose. [selah].

photo by teresa willard for miranda july's learning to love you more

i choose to see everything
as working out for my good.

le bon mot du jour: vision.

our real blessings often
appear to us in the shapes of
pains, losses, and disappointments;
but let us have patience, and we soon shall see them
in their proper figures.

- joseph addison [c.1672 - 1719], england -

blessed impermanence.

but a breath
all we have
fleeting moment dawns
and then gone
from flower to seed to flower to dust
everything that now shines
soon will rust

the only thing that makes sense anymore.

photo by michael wilson

KINDNESS

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes any sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend

- Naomi Shihab Nye -

refrigerator round-up, or simply the best tempeh i've ever had!

Fresh tempeh at the market, Jakarta, Indonesia.

okay. sometimes even a skinny vegetarian wants something 'meaty' to eat after a long day during a long week at work...and since i've been feeling a little tired of late, i wanted something substantial, but not heavy. as always, tempeh takes the cake [pun intended]. when cooked just right, tempeh can be the meatiest tasting veggie meal, but far more so than tofu, tempeh requires attention to preparation. i have learned the hard way: the more thought you put into the prep, the far more enjoyable it will be.

what's so rewarding about tempeh is it truly a wonder 'meat'...with nearly as much protein as chicken, but no cholesterol. tempeh also provides a greater amino acid profile due to its sprouting and fermentation. it is these same principles that make it such a joy to cook with, because unlike tofu, tempeh starts out firm and does not require freezing [as tofu does, to make it more solid]. and in spite of its denseness, tempeh is very low in calories. lastly, tempeh is unique among meat substitutes, because it has a fairly high amount of vitamin B-12 and iron.

and so, when you're feeling a little spent, something like a tempeh 'bacon' wrap for a summer meal is the way to go. the prep takes a small amount of time, but the smile on your face when you take the last bite is definitely worth it.

sweet and sour tempeh 'bacon' and avocado wraps

ingredients:

something to sink your teeth into:
1 - 8 or 10 oz. block of tempeh, cut into thin slices

[here's what i did.] turn the rectangle of tempeh long side down. slice the short side into thin strips, let's say approx. 1/8 of an inch.

set aside.

sauce ingredients:
2 tbs grapeseed oil, or olive oil

2 small cooking onions, or 1 large, sliced into thin rings

2 cloves garlic, pressed

1 small finger of ginger, cut into 4 thin pieces

2 tbs tomato paste

1/4 cup thin soy sauce - [i used a combination of tamari and mushroom soy]

1/4 cup maple syrup - [the sweet part]

splash of red wine vinegar - for the technically minded, let's say 2 tbs.

1/2 -3/4 tsp chipotle pepper sauce [a must for smokiness]

2 tamarind pods, remove the outer shell, squeeze out the seeds and scrape the paste from the inside [if you can find tamarind, this adds an incomparable complexity, a perfect sour to the sweetness]

1 pinch of cayenne pepper, or cajun seasoning

2 bay leaves

1 pinch of clove powder

other goodies:
flat bread wraps, i prefer flatout lite lowfat bread because it has 9 grams of protein, 9 grams of fiber - 90 calories, and it holds together very well!

mixed greens, or mesclun

avocado - i used a big, fat 'slimcado' or florida avocado [a good source of those important MUFA fats]

preparation - now, let's get cooking!!:
gather all of your ingredients.

in a larger sized sauce pan, heat the oil and soften the onion until it is translucent and begins to release its flavor [approximately 2-3 minutes]

when it has begun to cook, add the remaining sauce ingredients to boil over medium high heat, careful not to scorch the bottom of the pan.

when the sauce has begun to boil, add the tempeh, stir with a wooden spoon to coat, and reduce heat to a simmer.

cover the pan and allow the tempeh to simmer in the sauce approximately 15 minutes. as the sauce boils down, the tempeh will begin to fry and crisp in the pan.

now, we're on a roll:
when the tempeh is finished, place your wrap flat on the counter.

top with mesclun

layer with steamin' tempeh [ you won't need any other sauce, it's that good]

finish with avocado slices

and [badumdum - dorky drum roll] it's a wrap!

**serve with broccoli rabe and garlicky cannellini

rapini [broccoli rabe] and cannellini

so easy. so good.

ingredients:
1 head broccoli rabe [heads-up!: i will now heretofore use rabe and rapini interchangeably, simply because, i'm not sure which one i like the sound of better]

2-3 cloves garlic, or more if you wish

1 can cannellini beans

1-2 tbs olive oil

coarse sea salt

quick and dirty directions:
take a fresh, fresh head of broccoli rabe. rinse to drain any dirt or grit

or like my head had, clumps of roots.

with a larger chef's knife, trim the leaves and tips away from the woodier stalks

set the leaves and tips aside. discard [compost] the stalks

take each clove of garlic and cut into paper thin slices

heat the oil until it is sizzling

add the garlic and cook quickly, just until it starts to blush a golden tan

throw in the broccoli rabe and stir continuously until it begins to cook down and reduce in size.

the rapini will give up some water, but not much...when it has begun to release its liquid it will be an even brighter green

at this point, take the cannellini and drain and rinse thoroughly [or else it will add too much liquid to the pot]

throw in the beans and cook, stirring for about 3 more minutes

finish with a coarse sea salt for flavor


***sit down for a super-satisfying dinner, and if you find yourself in my shoes, you will have enough to pack a cooler lunch for your next day of tooling about town on the bookmobile [mobile library] to seaside senior homes and summer camps, and still more left over to walk a lunch offering of gratitude across the street to Christine's house as a thankyou for internet horking and some tender care for her equally hard week.***

le bon mot du jour: because the Universe has more breath than we do.

moine shaolin by isabel munoz

was reading by my familiar midnight light, "The Spiritual Practices of the Ninja" by Ross Heaven, and stumbled onto this expression of a universal truth that keeps coming before me. it's like the words ring true in my spirit, and still...i keep receiving the message until i can live the embodiment of their reality. for the ninja, a loss of meaning was one form of kuro [or suffering], and facing his shadow in an acceptance of this soul fatigue was essential to overcoming it and entering into a time of major breakthrough and life change.

When you are hopeless, give up hope.

When you are humilated, let go of pride and choose humility.

When you are disillusioned, de-illusion.

When you are holding on to what you know, let go and

surrender to what is about to become.

- Dina Glouberman-

et c'est ainsi que je t'aime encore, cistern.

"The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost."

-g.k. chesterton-

le bon mot du jour.

[me] via text to biggity smalls:

"The ache is how we know we have a heart."

night life.

SO, SOMETIMES I FORGET in my tiny little verdant corner of the world that i live in what is considered an utterly urban environment...within walking distance of downtown...[where i live is technically not even suburbia, where most city mice find themselves]...and its broken sidewalks and now-schwanky 'reclaimed' historic districts were so long ago laid over wagon trails, it has mercifully escaped the blight of condo associations and gated communities and yards and color schemes that must all look the same.

there, in my little pocket of the universe, i have set about planting and growing and nourishing and tending to my own ramshackle container garden, my vegetables and herbs, my orchids and water lillies and various 'adopted' and 'volunteer' plants...and the green, and the quiet, and the wind in the leaves, fills my heart with an inexplicable comfort of breathing deep the scent of sap rising, and the joy of getting my hands dirty, touching and living close to the earth.

somenights i look out my upstairs window through the branches of various trees at the great orange moon rising over rooftops. and most often these days, when the wind comes to visit, i will stand at the window listening to the birds sing, and the dogs barking, and some neighborhood kids playing somewhere in the distance...eeking out the last seconds of their fleeting summer days before they have to pack it all in for the night. and, in my reverie, it's not hard to imagine i live somewhere where life is simpler...where there is no familiarity with the fast-pace that is all-day around us. and as the city sounds begin to quiet, and the frogs in my water garden begin to sing their night chorus, i can almost believe, this loft i live in...which used to be a carriage house for the horses nearly a century ago...is on some hillside in the south of france...or at the end of some long dusty lane, where the hours pass by with the rhythm of land.

AND THEN THERE ARE THOSE NIGHTS, THAT CAUSE ME TO REMEMBER...like last night when i woke at 3, like i often do, to haunt the midnight hours...the dormant collective memory of my family's farmer stock encoded in my DNA, even now. and wide awake, i decided to wander outside in my pajamas...who at all could possibly see me at this hour? the streetsweeper had long passed and the newspaper man had hours yet to come. and so, barefoot and with my laptop in hand...i wandered out in my garden to my car where, inexplicably, my friend Christine's wi-fi internet signal is strongest...i figured i may as well blog about the things that were turning over and over and over in my wee-hour-of-the-morning head.

now, believe me, i know i was quite a sight...computer in hand...sitting in my car...turning on occasionally the light to see where the comma is when i continually lose my bearing on the keyboard in the inky dark. and it makes me feel like a thief, or i am up to no good, because i am obviously horking internet, even though Christine has given me her password...and regularly plies me for advice on setting up a website for her...i log on with her blessing, but still...there i am...in my pajamas...steaming up my own windows, trying to keep the mosquitoes at bay. this is why i much prefer to avoid the stares of my misunderstanding neighbors, and to make good use of my predilection to need just a few hours of sleep. here i can do my internet thing in peace, and be done, long before dawn.

so there i was...somewhere around 5, and i finally determined it was a good time to wander in and officially start my day. the air was cool...even though...still...in the middle of the night, the street was warm beneath my feet...like it is an alive thing, a temperate creature, living so close to the equator, are we. i was taking my sweet time a-wandering...and enjoying how lush and green everything is, when i was nearly to my door where, what else?, BUT THE CITY'S LARGEST RAT was scurrying there and was just as stunned as i to be interrupted in his nocturnal prowls.

now...here's where my predictament became utterly laughable...because when you are out haunting your neighborhood in pajamas by the light of the moon...you tend to feel even more helpless when the only path to your front door is now intransible due to a frightened rustling RAT OF UNBELIEVABLE SIZE. and i'm aware that i may have been delusional...having been up all night, and such...but the sound that he made conjured up all the worst imaginings...i mean, clearly...i was the one out of my element...because, of course, it's my sweet garden by light of day, but MR. RAT'S ABODE ENTIRELY at night. and so, i felt decidedly at his mercy...and i thought, if he feels cornered, will he charge?

after stomping my feet a few times as a warning...i decided what i would do...back to my car for the sweater i always keep in the trunk...[yes, it's the middle of summer...but for the most part, society lives in a state of artificial, ice cold AC winter indoors, all-year-long.] i decided since i clearly already looked insane...and truth be told, had crazily spent the better part of the whole night out-of-doors, i would seem even nuttier and play the matador to get to my front door. if THE RAT decided to charge...at the very least maybe i could keep his nibbly teeth away from my terribly vulnerable toes.

and so, it goes, that at 5 a.m. this morning, i was swinging my cape wildly at the underbrush...trying, desperately, to avoid a run-in with the nightlife in my bare feet. absurd? most definitely...i had to giggle at all my most dreadful thoughts: with teeth like he had...it took me awhile to convince myself that he wouldn't care to dare to chew his way through my front door. and so, i now know...i will share my night haunts with his kind...but it won't give me pause, even to step out in my pajamas...i have long wandered the world by streetlight...but, next time i go...i'll most certainly remember to slip on some shoes...and carry a broom...pretty witch-like and fitting for a redhead who's frequently out wandering the world in the middle of the night.

and so it goes, we never knows.

photo by Mohamed Farouk

Who knows what is going on on the other side of each hour?

How many times the sunrise was
there, behind a mountain!

How many times the brilliant cloud piling up far off
was already a golden body full of thunder!

This rose was poison.

That sword gave life.

I was thinking of a flowery meadow
at the end of a road,
and myself in the slough.

I was thinking of the greatness of what was human,
and found myself in the divine.


- Juan Ramón Jiménez -
[translated by Robert Bly]

sunday evening - here comes monday morning - dreaming.

thebestweekendever.

andjustsoyouknowthereisnothingsweeterthanforegoinglaundryforspendingtheeveningwiththedearestofanamcaraswatchingmindbendingmoviesaboutthemysteriesofhumanconnectionandsensuality,talkingbooksandtextmessages,andbecoming,anddreams,andreading,andallthreeofusonourownlaptopsononecouchtogether,anddrivinghomeatmidnight,andwakingtonpr[sundaymorningmyritual]andmakingonefrenchpresspotofcoffee,anddrivinganhoursouthforanearlylunchwithtwofriendswhoarelikesisterswhowalkwithmethroughmyeverydayeventhoughinevergettoseethemenough,andsittingandtalkingofthewondersofbecoming,andthemanifestingofdreams,andthefixingofvision,andthehopeforthemostbeautifuloftomorrowsinthecelebrationofnin'ssomedaycomingchildwhowewillallmothereventhoughweareevennowjustlearninghowtofullybeourselvesandstill,wewillalllove,andimbueherchildwithallthebeautyandloveweareonlynowcomingtolikebeggars,likeragamuffins,tothefeastofspiritwhichyou,ohloverofoureternalsouls,arealwayslayingbeforeus,wewillfixourvisiononthebestyouhaveforus,wewill.

et de ce fait, le bon mot du jour.

"...falling is the pretext for the most continuous acension."

- Ranier Maria Rilke"

i feel you, Lover of my soul. every tear is yours.

[drop in the ocean - painting by michael green]

GOD

I feel that God is traveling
so much in me, with the dusk and the sea.
With him we go along together. It is getting dark.
With him we get dark. All orphans...

But I feel God. And it even seems
that he sets aside some good color for me.
He is kind and sad, like those who care for the sick;
he whispers with sweet contempt like a lover's;
his heart must give him great pain.

Oh, my God, I've only just come to you,
today I love so much in this twilight; today
that in the false balance of some breasts
I weigh and weep for a frail Creation.

And you, what do you weep for...you, in love
with such an immense whirling breast...
I consecrate you, God, because you love so much;
because you never smile; because your heart
must all the time give you great pain.

- César Vallejo -
[translated by Robert Bly]

ye tang che.

some days i just want something to last.
i want to look into the eyes of a lover, or the eyes of a friend,
and know.
they will always be there.
i want to stop time for a minute.
i want to not feel the slight vertigo of a perpetually spinning
earth beneath my feet.
i want to be still and quiet and infinite
inside the earthly shell of this dirt-and-spittle fashioned body.
and then i remember.

the beauty.
the compassion.
the birth of wisdom.
comes out of the uncertainty.
out of the brokenness.
out of abandoning hope.
and welcoming with an open heart
whatever
arises along the path.

it's still a love beyond all keeping, michelangelo, or everyone crashes down around here.

The Fall of Icarus

I looked up when Icarus came down –
but who would notice?
People are always crashing.
My neighbor's foot caught on the edge
of a furrow as he plowed
even as Icarus tumbled
headfirst down. He twisted his ankle
and tore up the ground with his hands.
While Icarus plunged down streaming,
my neighbor cursed the ants that confuse
the dirt, the feet that are blind
in their shoes and are always blundering.
The white wax ran down Icarus' arms in rivers;
he was a drenched man, a ruined,
a steaming man – I watched him fall
and my neighbor turn his ankle in the field.
That day Icarus was the toast of all the taverns.
I told everyone about the red runnels
on his shoulder where the wax plowed away
his skin. My old neighbor was there,
a cloth around his leg. We drank
a mug or two for Icarus who imagined
he could look God in the eye, another mug
for Icarus and then one for God Himself–
Here's to God's Eye which burned away
the wings of Icarus!
God's Eye! I felt wild thinking of it.
I went out to look at the sea, gilded
with the last of the light that took down
Icarus, bright as the annoyance in God's Eye
when he blazed away those wings.
I lost my head for a minute, dazzled
by light and drinks to daring and scraped
my knees when I took that tumble,
standing on tiptoe on the edge of the hill,
imagining the cut valleys, the lean spoon
of the isthmus and the shredded breezes
in the sky – how it must have looked to Icarus
as he spun down and God flicked me
off my hillock just for imagining.
Everyone crashes down around here.

-Dashka Slater-

First published in The Gamut #30, Summer 1990
Anthologized in Orpheus & Company, edited by Deborah DeNicola