Archives

Voting

Mar3

I’m grateful that I live in a democracy, still, and that my vote counts. I question the truth of our democracy, even now, as Republican officials in many states and at the federal level continue to sabotage the voices of people of color with gerrymandering and laws that make it harder for people to vote in many districts. Imagine how many more Americans will be disenfranchised if the GOP wins more offices this fall. If you or someone you love is gay, trans, lesbian or anywhere on the gender spectrum besides white male; if you or someone you love uses marijuana recreationally or medicinally; if you or someone you love of any age has a functioning uterus: please take the threats to their liberties and their lives seriously, and support and vote for Democratic candidates up and down the ballot.

However, if you’re a registered Independent and you live in a state where you can choose which primary ballot you use, you might do as I did and vote for a woman running for the Republican nomination. I admire the courage and conviction that has kept Ambassador Nikki Haley motivated to remain in the race despite her minimal chance of trumping her opposition. As a fierce Independent myself, I’m grateful that I can offer this protest vote against the rapist, insurrectionist, lying, demented frontrunner. Nothing personal, just the facts.

The past few days have been a wild rollercoaster of weather, as in much of the country. The mini irises weathered one snowstorm and continue to bloom, while the crocuses are still going strong. The garlic beds are drinking up precipitation. I’m grateful to have spent a little bit of time outside on short breaks during a long work week, though the planetary winds the past couple of days have kept all of us hunkered down inside for the most part.

In another stroke of earring luck, after carelessly losing another favorite earring off a table, but not noticing until I’d rearranged some furniture and thoroughly vacuumed the floor, I was delighted when Topaz found the missing bauble hiding behind her play box. This earring also carries sentimental value: I bought the pair with a matching pendant for my mother decades ago when we visited Canyon de Chelly, from a Navajo artist at the visitor center. On one side of each piece is the traditional bear paw design inset with a polished pink shell; on the flip side is a design in turquoise and red stone. She loved them; I inherited them. They carry the history and love of our travels together. I’m grateful to Topaz, and the universe, that I still have them all.

The cheese sandwich project has been going well, as I continue to experiment with different proportions of regular flour and heartier varieties. Yesterday I used up some cheese ends in a fromage fort to which I added the little green sprout from the garlic, and a palmful of sautéed shiitake mushrooms from the night before. It made a delicious spread that tasted very like a paté. I spread some of this on bread and topped it with lettuce and avocado. Different, but good!

The real culinary success of the week, though, was this French Onion Farro and Lentil cheesy bake that Amy and I cooked together last night. The onions are simply caramelized first, then you add in garlic, white wine, farro, lentils and broth, bring to a simmer, and pop in the oven for a long enough time to enjoy a glass of wine and satisfying conversation. The recipe calls for thyme sprigs, but Amy and I don’t like thyme, so we used a bay leaf. Once the farro and lentils are softened, top with grated Gruyere (or Swiss, if you shop at City Market) and broil until it’s melted and browned.

Living on solar power, I have the lowest end oven in the industrial world, so the broiler is at the bottom, never works right, and continually frustrates me. I melted the cheese on the top rack of the oven, then pulled it out and browned it with a cute little kitchen torch, which ran out of butane before I finished. Oh well. It was fun to use it, and I’m grateful for Amy’s suggestion that I try that. Once I replenish the butane supply, I’ll be torching everything that calls for a broiler. As for the dish, it was so simple, and so unbelievably delicious.

Impermanence

Feb23
Walking up the driveway with Topaz in the warm light of late day in earliest spring…

Even late, fatigued, I’m grateful for the little gifts of today. I’m grateful that I’ve noticed the first tips of mini irises popping through the dirt over the past few days, and the crocuses which opened yesterday. Suddenly, just since Monday, all these little beings have sprouted from the ground.

I’m grateful that after an intense work week, and a full day of meaningful interactions, I was able to rest and reset with a long afternoon nap. I know that I did some good things today. I feel nonetheless the malaise of self-doubt and resistance to the way things are. I made the mistake of reading some articles this evening that I found disheartening, even frightening. Corruption, profiteering, heartlessness, and just plain meanness surround us, in our broken medical and political systems, in our neighbors, in corporations, big Tech and big Pharma, big Banks and big Oil… There are days it is just hard and wearying to know these things.

On days like these, when I’m exhausted by my own efforts to resist the weight of evil in the world, it’s more important than ever to turn some of my attention budget to the little precious things I’m fortunate to have in my life. To savor the tiny beautiful things and moments, to find renewal and nourishment in them when there feels like little else. There’s a peace in remembering Impermanence: these small pleasures are fleeting but they are endless; they coexist with the paucity of spirit in the species that allows and perpetuates inequality and evil. I’m grateful to recall that the human spirit, the human species, also holds generosity, goodness, and love, and that I’ve also seen a lot of that today.

I marvel sometimes at the transient meaningfulness of my simple cheese sandwich lunch habit. There’s nothing at all remarkable or special about it, except that I always have enough to eat. So far.

Please Try Again!

Feb15

I’m very grateful to those of you who tried to submit the comment form to the BLM using the link in yesterday’s post. If some of you were successful, so much the better! But some of you had trouble getting it to go through, as did I, which I reported to the Conservation Center. They fixed the glitch, and at least one person was able to successfully submit the form from yesterday’s link. If you’d rather not try that again, please try starting at their main page, and then click on the light green block on the left just below the banner heading and follow on to the form. Thank you again!

I’m also grateful today for another simple salad, and for a leftover heel of sourdough that I chopped up and toasted in bacon fat to make croutons. I’m grateful for an abundance of smoked Gouda, which I added to the salad, along with avocado, carrot, broccoli, celery, and a little bit of bacon. I made a simple vinaigrette the way I learned from the Colonel, including a pinch of dry mustard, a spoonful of mayonnaise, and some herbs. So simple, so delicious. And I’m grateful to understand that my contentment can hold sadness.

I’m grateful for playing in the snow with little Wren.

Environmental Protection

Feb14

I’m grateful for community activism on behalf of environmental protection, and this time it’s right in my own back yard. As a community, we’ve been fighting for our quality of life and our livelihoods for more than a decade, in a battle with the oil and gas industrial complex that seems to never end. If you’ve ever visited here, or you just want to support us, please consider signing this comment form to the BLM now. The deadline for comments is February 20.

When this started in 2011 with proposals to lease public lands at the heart of our watersheds for fracking, there was enormous community response. Hundreds of people attended meetings, thousands sent letters, urging the government to protect these lands that are crucial to the agriculture and recreation that drive our economy. What can one person do? I realized I could compile some of my many photographs of the area into a ‘visual comment’ to submit to the BLM during the initial public comment period. And then I realized I wasn’t the only one who had photographs.

By the time it was done, more than fifty valley residents and a few visitors from out of state had sent me hundreds of digital images, which I complied into the North Fork Scrapbook. Please visit the online scrapbook generated and maintained by our leading environmental protector, Pete Kolbenschlag, now director of the Colorado Farm & Food Alliance, to learn more about the unique valley and the looming threat to its health. I’m grateful to Pete, to the Western Slope Conservation Center, to Citizens for a Healthy Community, and to the thousands of valley residents who are making their concerns heard in an effort to protect our home.

Perspective

Feb11

This wide-angle perspective of Wren shows her complete ownership of me. I love how she seems to experience me as a convenient piece of furniture to give her a higher perspective one moment, and another moment as though I am an extension of her very self, or she of mine.

Wren and I did something today that I haven’t done in a few years: we went to a Super Bowl party. We took a bacon-cheddar-cream cheese dip, topped with avocado and the first two tomatoes of the season! That little vine in a bag that I brought in last fall? Its tomatoes ripened through December, and then it didn’t quit: I gave it one dose of full-spectrum plant food, and a couple weeks later it made a few flowers, and then a few more. I picked the first ripe tomatoes today, and there are half a dozen more green tomatoes on the vine. They’re small, just barely bigger than a cherry tomato, but still! I’m grateful for this pertinacious little plant.

The party was just across the living room in my recliner, and we were the only guests. Topaz stopped by for a few crunchy treats. Our team didn’t win, but we had a good time, and the event gave me plenty to reflect on. I was grateful to swap perspectives with a friend over zoom after a halftime show that NPR called “chaotic.” I’ll say. I couldn’t make a lick of sense out of it after the first few minutes. I kept waiting for Usher to sing a song. But I watched, and I wondered, How is there still racism in this country when so many Americans of all colors and political persuasions celebrate the Super Bowl? It’s not a white sport. At least half its megastars are Black. The halftime show was a celebration of Black artists and cultures. How do some people revere Black football stars or performers, and simultaneously hate their Black neighbors?

The ads, which for some years were actually clever or artistic or surprising, this year struck me as even more materialistic, banal, depressing, and alienating than ever. I don’t even remember seeing a single Clydesdale, but maybe I blinked during that one. I’ve been studying human beings from the moment in college when I learned I could get a diploma in people-watching, and I barely understand them any better than I did when I embarked on my Anthropology degree. What I do understand, though, is that our predominant American culture is tragically alienated from one thing that is essentially real and true, the natural world: soil, water, trees, non-human animals, and the interconnected cycles and systems that regulate this fragile spinning globe we live on. For all we know, “Life is only on Earth… and not for long.” (Justine, in Melancholia.)

On the political front, here’s another hopeful, clarifying, and inspiring perspective, recommended by Jessica Craven, from Mike Lux Media with the headline “The 2024 election will be determined by two things. Neither one is Joe Biden’s age.”

Courage

Feb10
Leftovers: a crabcake smashed into a cheese and avocado sandwich.

I’m grateful today for courage. Not mine, but the courage of the many voices being raised in the independent news and opinion sphere about the recklessly biased coverage of the two presumptive candidates for president this coming November. Once again, mainstream media is following the lead of rightwing so-called ‘news’ like Fox propaganda, by trumpeting the grandiose theatrics of the former narcissist-in-chief while ignoring his daily distortions, lies, and cognitive failures; at the same time, pouncing like a starving cat on a single mixup by an accomplished and proven statesman who cares more about Americans than about his own ego, and more about the planet than his own profit.

The New York Times and The Washington Post, among other infotainment outlets, won the 2016 election for Trump with their free nonstop promotions, and seem on track to do the same thing again in 2024. Their recent egregiously skewed coverage of the biased Hur report and their relentless attacks on President Biden for his age and occasional mistakes is unfathomable. I can’t say anything about it nearly as well as courageous writers like Robert Hubbell in Today’s Edition:

“Perhaps voters don’t question Trump’s sharpness despite more frequent and serious misstatements because the NYTimes devotes an inordinate amount of coverage to Biden’s missteps but hardly mentions Trump’s. The Times creates the dominant narrative and then claims it doesn’t have to report on the counter-narrative because voters aren’t interested in it! What arrogance!

Within the 24-hour window of the NYTimes raking Biden over the coals, the following Republicans misspoke but the Times reacted with indifference:

  • “An hour after Biden says the President of Egypt is the President of Mexico Trump says the Prime Minister of Hungary, [Viktor Orban] is the President of Turkey”—a repeated mistake by Trump on the campaign trail.
  • Speaker Mike Johnson confused the countries of Iran and Israel in an interview on Fox News, saying that the US has already “funded Iran” in the existing US budget—a mistake viewed as slanderous by the tens of millions of citizens in both countries.
  • Fox News infotainer posing as a journalist Jesse Watters introduced South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem as the “South Carolina Governor.”

Another daily voice for sanity is Jessica Craven, who shared in her newsletter yesterday her letter to the NYT editorial board. A bonus with her newsletter is a weekly dose of good news which celebrates political, environmental, and social justice victories in the previous week, of which there are many. Here’s an excerpt of her letter to the Times:

“What can the New York Times be thinking? Trump shows clear signs of cognitive impairment. You regularly give him a pass. President Biden is considered by all who’ve interacted with him—including his political enemies—to be sharp and capable. The Hur report was written by a former Trump associate; it was a political hit piece and the Times bought into it with zero journalistic scrutiny. 

I have to ask again, do your editors WANT a Trump presidency? Because that’s what your misleading, biased, and hysterically one-sided coverage will bring us. 

History will not be kind to the Times for its relentless attacks on the one man capable of saving us from dictatorship. Shame on you.”

As agitated as I am by the unraveling political coverage, I still make sure that I appreciate the simple pleasures in life, taking time to enjoy a simple, delicious lunch: homemade sourdough toast with ‘fromage fort’ and avocado, salt, pepper, and a sprinkle of homemade paprika. We have to nurture and take care of ourselves, and find joy in our lives, in order to have the strength and resilience to rise to the demands of our current crises, be they personal, local, national, or global.

If you feel discouraged by the media narratives that are shaping the opinions of Americans, then take some action to shape the media narratives. Write to the papers or networks you follow, share your outrage on social media, use your right to free speech, and speak truth not only to power but to the media that seems to control it. Join one of the thousands of grassroots political organizations that sprang up during the Trump regime to fight his agenda of power and tax cuts for the wealthy, stepping up the rape of the planet, racism, antisemitism, white male supremacy, and oppression of minorities of all kinds. Subscribe to Hubbell’s and Craven’s newsletters, they tell us how to fight this fight every single day. If we don’t beat Trump at the ballot box in November or legitimately stop his campaign before that, we are in for a worse nightmare than you can imagine.

But as Hubbell often says, we’ve beaten him and his agenda in almost every election since 2016, from special elections to midterms and the 2020 presidential election; we can do it again. “We have every reason to be hopeful, but no reason to be complacent!”

Equanimity

Jan30

I’m grateful for the mini miracle of finding my missing silver feather which had separated from its hook a couple of weeks ago. Had I lost it downtown? Was it in the house? Was it tumbled into the plowed driveway gravel? I’ve been grateful for having equanimity about its loss, not wailing or gnashing my teeth about it, nor overexerting myself hunting for it. Letting it go and aware that it might turn up; lost things so often do. As I dropped the last armful of kitchen towels and dish cloths into the washing machine this afternoon during mouse cleanup, I chanced to look down and there was the edge of the feather peeking out from under the washer. I shrieked with joy. I’ve had these earrings for 35 years; I bought them at a Seminole Pow Wow shortly before moving away from Florida, where a piece of my heart remains.

I was grateful for equanimity all day. I balanced the chore of disinfecting parts of the kitchen with time outside disinfecting drawers from the kitchen, and excavating a few wasp nests deep in the wire cavity of the front porch light; and time inside listening to dharma talks, working on the puzzle, and more cleaning. I also found equanimity in another exchange with the friend whose comment triggered me the other day. It wasn’t his comment so much as my reaction to it that opened an old wound, and my inner critic came roaring out.

One aspiration with this blog is to help others to find gratitude for the ten thousand joys of this human life, even as they suffer from the ten thousand sorrows. Some of the most pervasive suffering in the culture I was raised in comes from inside our minds. You’re among a fortunate few if you’ve never experienced feelings of self-doubt, of not being enough, not doing enough, not belonging, not loving yourself wholly: the trance of unworthiness described by Tara Brach. I’m grateful that I have many friends who aren’t greatly disappointed in me when I express vulnerability, and some who even appreciate it. 

I’d been thinking for weeks, Why do my little gratitudes even matter, in a world so filled with chaos and hate?  How can I help but question the value of my work and my words, given this reality? Surely I could be doing more. Or could I? When I share joy at an excess of fresh eggs, I writhe inwardly with awareness of the pain of hunger so many millions face across the planet. Equanimity helps me accept the limits of my current conditions, and enables me to do what I can to be kind, patient, and compassionate, with others as well as with myself. But I lose my grasp of it sometimes.

In mindfulness, we’re taught to be grateful even for those who challenge us in unpleasant ways because they can be our best teachers. That’s always been really hard for me, even though I understand it intellectually. After pondering my complicated emotions these past couple of days, and while I was crafting a mindful reply to this challenging person’s latest volley, gratitude suddenly bubbled up. Afflictive habitual thoughts gave way, and authentic gratitude spontaneously arose: I honestly felt grateful for his giving me this opportunity for such deep reflection, insight, and growth. Now that’s equanimity!

Microadventures

Jan26

I was flabbergasted to see this photograph of a new class of cruise ships, advertised as ‘better for the planet’ though this claim is roundly debunked in the article describing this behemoth, which carries 7000 people. I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing at first. Now that I’ve understood the photograph, this surrealistic ship entering the port of Miami whence it sets sail (ha! LNG-methane emissions motoring) tomorrow, I still don’t understand, I really cannot comprehend, the very idea of this as vacation.

But some people will love it, and who am I to judge. It just concerns me that as fragile as we know our planet is, and our atmosphere, so many humans still pursue such resource-indulgent recreation. Also crossing my screen this morning was this lovely article about paying attention to and discovering wonders in our own back yards, much more my speed. Alastair Humphreys has traveled the world exploring nature, but he’s beginning to reconsider his impact on the planet: “If I love wild places so much, I’ve begun to wonder, am I willing to not visit them in order to help protect them?”

He goes on, “Only a tiny minority of the people on the planet step onto a plane each year; just 1% of us take more than half of all flights. How can more of us enjoy wild landscapes and the mental and physical benefits of getting out into nature without it costing the Earth?” He suggests we do this with microadventures, taking bike rides and camping trips and other opportunities to experience wild nature close to home.

I’m grateful for the many microadventures I’ve had just this week, and I’ve barely left the house. I’m grateful that I live where I can step out my door into nature, but even if I couldn’t I know that I’d find beauty and wonder in whatever little patch of nature I could experience–even if it were just the spider making her web in the window.

Wonder: walking up the driveway I spy in the mud and ice this gorgeous butterfly; dead, of course, this time of year. I surmise it fell from the grill of the FedEx truck, or my personal shopper’s car, where it had been stuck since warmer weather. To be surprised by such a sight in deep winter was a microadventure. For little Wren, too.

I have microadventures with this aging body all the time. Monday it was a strained tendon, which with the right tool for the job and a sweet resting place is healing well. I’ve graduated to a lighter brace, and no longer have to sleep with it.

I’m grateful for microadventures in the kitchen. Opening this carton of eggs and being surprised by all the colors, shapes, and sizes! I’m grateful for my friend’s adventures raising the chickens, and grateful for her sharing the bounty. With a sudden abundance of eggs I was encouraged to plan some more eggy bakes, and celebrated by poaching two that very night for dinner. Another microadventure: I’ve seen so many ways to poach eggs without using cups, and the few I’ve tried before have been unsuccessful. But I tried again and this time they came out beautifully. With a pat of butter, a sprinkle of salt and pepper, they were perfect.

Using up leftovers is always a microadventure also. The last tortilla, the last of the chicken salad, half an avocado, some cheese on the bottom, and the last (again) of the sunroom tomatoes — but there are blossoms now, and more little green tomatoes growing! The microadventure of growing food in winter.

Driving to town, any of the three towns around, is always a microadventure if you choose to see it that way, which I do. Turning off the radio and turning my attention to the subtle colors and patterns of the sere rolling landscape, alert for wildlife along the roadside, and appreciative of the clouds.

Back home, walking again, appreciating the bright green moss thriving under the junipers, and the cat who walks like a dog, and also climbs trees. Knowing the names of some of the grasses and weeds, knowing the life cycle of the trees, knowing just the tip of the iceberg of the lives in this forest, knowing there’s so much more to know…

The best. loaf. of. sourdough. ever. Learning the alchemy of flour, salt, water, and microbes, each bake a unique microadventure.

Even simply waking up alive each morning is a microadventure. I never know what will be the first thing I see!

Chop Wood, Carry Water

Jan22

I saved this from Jessica Craven’s marvelous newsletter Chop Wood Carry Water and had intended to write more today, but I injured my wrist this afternoon and am typing one-handed, and so calling a time out until I get this under control. Meanwhile, if you don’t get her grassroots save-the-nation emails, I encourage you to do so. Her Extra! Extra! on Sundays is ALL good news, sharing progress and successes. I’m grateful for Chop Wood Carry Water, and to Jessica for her fierce persistence .

So Much

Jan13

I’m grateful for so much today. For a functioning, pain-free body; for all the beautiful green and/or flowering plants in my sunroom and making time to water and tend them; for an exhilarating zoom with Foundations Course graduates across the country, for exercising and laughing with my frousin (yes autocorrect: frousin: it’s my friend-cousin), for a delicious lunch with a bunch of leftovers in a tortilla wrap, for RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 16; for my best girls back east planning a birthday zoom with me… for community, companionship, friendship, love; and for the mindfulness that makes it possible for me to appreciate it all, despite the climate, political, and other human-induced chaos plaguing our precious, fragile planet; and for cultivating the capacity to hold the ten thousand sorrows and the ten thousand joys with both hands and an open heart. This is it.

This is the only life we know we’ll ever get. We might get another one, but can we know that? No. The only thing we know for certain is that we have this present moment in this singular life. I’m grateful for the pure awareness that allows me to appreciate almost every moment of it just the way it is. I’m grateful for equanimity, contentment, perspective, and the gazillion stars in the night sky–oh, in the day sky also–whether or not they’re obscured by clouds. I’m grateful for knowing my place in this universe. All I can do with this knowledge is love.

I’m grateful for loving this little creature that came into my life, no matter what she does, just loving her for who she is. I’m grateful for the growing capacity I experience with practice for loving myself just as I am, no matter who I am. I’m grateful for having a roof over my head, a bed to sleep late in, a kitchen filled with tools and food and the resources at hand to nourish this animal body who loves what it loves. I’m grateful for people like Mary Oliver who say things more eloquently than I have yet. I’m grateful for this carrot-orange-ginger soup that I made tonight to nourish me for three or four more meals, with organic carrots, ginger grown in the sunroom, and regular old oranges, as well as a handful of spices from around the world via Penzeys and Amazon. What a world we live in, with so much available to us!

OMG so simple so delicious. This carrot-orange-ginger soup took about half an hour to make start to finish, and is absolutely delectable. I used leftover coconut milk instead of cream, and homemade vegetable stock heavy on the celery. I love keeping a bag in the freezer for celery, broccoli, and cauliflower stalks, mushroom stems, parmesan rinds, and any other veggie scraps that will enrich a stock. I added a couple of small potatoes, a few outer onion layers, and a few garlic cloves when I dumped the stock-bag into the pot the other day to simmer for a few hours. Pulled the jar out of the fridge tonight to make this delicious soup.

I’m grateful for all of this, with the caveat that I understand there is impact and injustice involved in me getting what I need to make a simple carrot soup. We live in un-simple times. I do the best I can with what I have in each moment, to be the best human I can be under the conditions leading up to this moment. If we would all do the same, what a wonderful world it would be.