Tag Archive | acceptance

A Wonder Bread

Sep3

I’m grateful I got four early cabbages, and learned a lot in the garden, before I took the screen covers off the late cabbages when they got too crowded. Because there’s not much left, and less each day.

And I’m really grateful I had a fun distraction over the weekend, making a seemingly complicated bread that said it was “same day,” but took several steps and lots of rises over about 28 hours. ‘That Sourdough Gal’ offers a one, two, or three day version in several loaf-pan sizes, starting with this Sourdough Wonder Bread Copycat Recipe. Amy’s made it a few times but this was my first effort. On Sunday night I made the stiff sweet starter (right) and let it rise overnight, and well into the morning since it was a cool night. Late Monday morning I made the tangzhong (left), and was delighted it was done in the microwave instead of stovetop. Both of them could have been more their ideal selves than they managed, but I learned.

After the tangzhong cooled, I mixed all the ingredients in the KitchenAid with a dough hook and let it run for about twenty minutes. I plunked the dough into an oiled bowl and let it rise for almost four hours.

It remained too cool inside to rise well so I set it outside, first in the sun but the top got dry even covered, so I flipped the dough over and moved it into shade. It was supposed to increase by about 30%, and this looked about right.

Then I rolled it into a log and let it rise three plus more hours in the pan, until the center was just above the pan edge.

And baked to perfection! After it came out of the pan I brushed the top with melted butter, and by the time it had cooled enough to slice it was midnight. So I put the loaf away and dreamed all night of the tomato sandwich I would have for lunch the next day.

I’ve waited all summer for this moment: a vine ripe tomato from my garden, homemade soft white bread, and just the right amount of mayonnaise. Amy saw this picture and said “I think you might need more mayonnaise.” I told cousin Mel about the sandwich and she said, “Whenever I get mayonnaise I think of you.” She recalled a time when I was horrified that there was no mayonnaise, and she said, “You wailed!” We laughed and laughed. It’s nice to be known.

I was extra grateful to be able to eat this sandwich yesterday for lunch. Not only that the tomatoes survived the grasshopper plague and ripened beautifully, that the bread turned out so well, that there was sufficient mayonnaise, but that I could finally chew again after five days on a liquid diet. The dental crowns that keep on giving! It’s been awful, but with some friendly advice and a recollection, I finally got some relief from the mouth and face paralysis and pain. I drank custard, soup, and smoothies for five days, took Vitamin I morning and evening, and looked up some Feldenkrais sessions for jaw pain. It still feels awkward to close my mouth but the teeth have almost quit hurting, don’t feel loose anymore, and can at last do their job again. On a wonder bread.

Pure and utter perfection: tomato, mayo, salt

Yesterday evening by the pond, I was trying to capture a gorgeous blue dragonfly, which I didn’t quite succeed in, but a sweet mama frog hopped into the picture. And when I looked at the picture, I saw another frog already hiding beyond the lily pads.

This morning, who did I find up in the vegetable garden all the way the other end of the yard? One of my darlings in the wood chips damp from the sprinkler. They are on the move! I wanted to catch it and return it to the pond, but who am I to say? It had come all this way braving untold hazards, I could hardly be the decider and make it start its journey all over again. And then for lunch, I enjoyed another perfect tomato sandwich, with some lightly curried carrot-corn soup. It’s been a peaceful couple of days at Mirador, as the wild world spins around.

Delusion

Jul4

It was a great day to be living inside the kaleidoscope. Off in Washington the party of pride and prejudice sold out the American people to kiss the feet of the billionaire class. I was grateful to be immersed in my little garden, and the big sky, and meaningful connection with two sanghas and several friends.

Despite grasshopper predation, potato plants are tall and flowering.
Cabbages have not fared quite as well and screen covers are on the way, if I can only hold off the greedy hordes until Monday.
I was so hopeful that this one cabbage head, at least, would escape unscathed, but in just a couple of hours between today’s scheduled shakings, the bastards chewed into it.

“We’re excited to get this done. If Hakeem would stop talking, we’ll get the job done for the American people. It takes a lot longer to build a lie than to tell the truth, so he’s really spinning a long tale in there, but we’re excited. The people will feel the effect of this bill….. The sooner we can get to it, the sooner the Democrats will stop talking, we’ll get this bill done for the people and we’re really excited about it.”

Speaker Mike Johnson lying through his greedy teeth to CNN this morning during Jeffries’ last ditch effort to stop the big bad bill. You bet the American people will feel the effects of the bill. Despicable. Excited, cheering, their ruthless delusion knows no bounds. I tried to call Jeff Hurd again this morning and when I chose the option to leave a message I was disconnected.

I had to run to the bank this afternoon and spotted this bumper sticker, which raised ironic thoughts, reflections on the prevalence and persistence of delusion, a brief spin into conjecture about how this pronouncement will be perceived in a year or four years, raised some bile: May you have the day you voted for. And then back to practice: May all beings be healthy and happy, may all beings be safe, free from inner and outer harm, may all beings live a life of joyful ease. May all beings be healthy and happy…

Golden light after blessed rain, extra grateful for no lightning.

One can’t practice enough these days. Literally, I cannot practice enough to keep my gorge from rising, the bile from a constant burn in the back of my throat. But I keep practicing, because that’s what we do.

After meditation, and a zoom sangha with Upaya, we strolled up the driveway to savor the sky, the clean damp air; to ground in the clear truth of nature, ancient junipers, mutable weather, the fleeting grace of a doe, a tiny spotted fawn running through the field.

[No, the fawn’s not in either picture, but the doe is in the trees in the first one.]

You do what you can, what you must, with hope, without clinging to outcome. You accept the truth that this is how things are right now, and then you adapt, reset, recuperate, and start again the next day. But for this evening, just for these precious few hours, you relax into whatever nourishes you, whatever sustains and restores you, and savor it like there’s no tomorrow. You step into the kaleidoscope and ride.

I just missed catching this band of low clouds glowing white, the only light between the West Elks and the valley both in cloud shadow. Oh well. I stayed up on the deck to watch light climb Mendicant Ridge to the sky. This is all the fireworks I’ll need for the weekend.

Jun25

Fledging is imminent. It could be tomorrow, or it could be another week. Research says they fledge between 18-21 days after hatching. I don’t know exactly what day they hatched, but do know the parents were flying in and out sixteen days ago. The past few days the food deliveries have been increasing, and the chicks’ cries when the parents leave are now loud and clear.

I couldn’t be more grateful to see them fly in carrying one grasshopper after another to the nest. Sometimes they fly straight in from the top of a nearby juniper, or from the tip of the patio umbrella; more often, they land on their antler perch and look around before hopping up to the nest cavity.

In the past two days their deliveries have become so frequent they occasionally overlap, meeting in the doorway as one flies in with food and the other flies out with a fecal sac. Cornell Lab of Ornithology defines this as “a clean, tough mucous membrane containing the excrement of nestling birds.” You can see mama with it below.

They move so fast I can’t see their weightless ease without the camera. Above, he floats from the nest to the perch; then gathers himself for a few breaths, and takes off. Their wing-to-body length is almost falcon like, and the long wings give them the ability to hover and dive when hunting. I can’t get enough of watching them, and will be spending every possible minute on birdwatch until the babies emerge.

I think how my mother would have loved this unexpected delight. As a bird-lover and also a painter whose favorite color was blue, she was entranced with mountain bluebirds. When she visited and saw them dancing along the fenceposts, she wanted to name my driveway Bluebird Lane. Back then, I rarely saw one in the yarden. So in an interconnected accepting sort of way, I guess I’m kind of grateful for the grasshopper plagues that have brought the bluebirds to my front door.

Self Care

Jan30

There the slow dancers are at the waist that’s being tenderly held. This puzzle continued to delight me through its entirety, but that’s no surprise, all of them do, each in its unique way. The butterfly below is just one of many design cuts with several facets. The eyes of the face in the painting resemble eyespots on the butterfly wings which evolved to deter predators in one of several ways. That’s a very clever design.

Another clever though more obvious design is cutting glasses over the eyes, which might have even been wearing glasses from the shine spots.

And then the musical pieces: the clef coming out of the mouth of the singer, and the notes from the stringed instrument. What is that instrument? Guitar? Mandolin?

Each puzzle reveals its unique strategy as it comes together. Sometimes I start with colors I like, or whimsy pieces I like. In this puzzle I started with the pinks, leading me to complete the pink dresses and the umbrellas. Having glanced at the lid before starting, I’d noted that the pinks occurred in two quadrants and was able as the color blocks came together to place them in the right area on the board. Then I built outward from those two main blocks (above) until suddenly I could see how these two triangular halves of the puzzle fit together (below).

The clean white lines of the cocktail glasses made this section easy. Self care for me recently has included far less alcohol, but I can still appreciate an elegant cocktail and pleasing glassware. The pitcher and cocktail below escaped my notice as I separated whimsy pieces at the beginning, and only took shape as I assembled the pink dress.

This one is too simply too pretty not to call attention to. The one obvious pineapple piece had no correlate that I could discern in the fruit bowl, but the bowl is a reminder of another important element of self care: eat your fruits and vegetables, even at a party!

For me, an important part of self care is having a dog at my side. That’s a whole separate essay, or maybe a memoir. I love this dog with his quizzical tilt which could show his interest in many things: the conversation, the food, the music, who knows?

Nearing the end of the puzzle, I like to photograph negative space, and save one whimsy piece for the very last. It was hard to decide, when I ended up with a couple of spiders, a frog, and a crow.

I’ve heard for the past few years the claim that the US suffers from a loneliness epidemic. That may be true. It certainly makes sense when you think about the alienation from the natural world that most 21st century Americans experience; add to that the pathological immersion in screens of all sorts, and top it off with the perils of social media, and sure, I can see loneliness. But what I see more as I meet and teach more people is that there is another epidemic that correlates: the trance of unworthiness, as Tara Brach calls it.

My students are mostly women. Is it mere coincidence I see so much of this suffering, or are women more susceptible to this ailment of insecurity, not-enough, self-doubt, even self-loathing? I get it. I suffered from it for most of my life. It’s taken years of inner work to start to trust my capacities, to even like myself much less love and appreciate myself. I’m grateful that mindfulness teachers, practice, and skills are helping me wake from this trance and learn the true meaning of self care.

A hot bath and a massage are great, fresh fruits, a wooden jigsaw puzzle, a long walk in the woods are all wonderful aspects of self care. Brushing and flossing your teeth is great, but the kind of self care that can truly heal also includes making time to cultivate a deep inward connection with yourself: training your mind and attention, honing your core values and consciously living in alignment with them, making wise choices, and opening your heart to see purpose and meaning in your own life. And then remembering to be grateful for this precious life that you get to wake up to day after day. Until you don’t.

“The Picnic,” by Archibald John Motley, Jr., from Liberty Puzzles, Boulder, Colorado

Opportunities

Nov15

Tonight I’m grateful that I got to spend an hour in the garden this morning, pulling a few weeds, turning over a little cold, wet dirt, and planting some bulbs. I don’t feel able yet to get down on the ground so I planted them in raised beds and tubs, all protected from the deer who last spring demolished most of my tulips, even the little naturalizing tulips that they used to leave alone. I’m grateful for the opportunity the fine weather allowed. Some of the beds had chunks of frozen dirt in them, but mostly the soil was malleable, and the temperature went up to 62℉. If it hadn’t been for the stiff wind all day I might have spent more time outside, but I’m grateful I got two loads of laundry done and hung on the line.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to sleep in an adjustable bed for the past two months, and I was sad to see it go this afternoon. It’s been my resting place since surgery, and ever so comfortable compared to my sweet old recliner, which feels sooo low now that that’s the only place downstairs I have to stretch out. Now I get the opportunity to clean off my convalescent windowsill!

I’m grateful for the technology that provides the opportunity to learn from wise teachers around the world. I’ll be zooming into Upaya Zen Center throughout the weekend for a retreat called AWAKENED ACTION: Opening to All of Life, which features five powerful women: Roshi Joan Halifax, Terry Tempest Williams, Valerie Brown, Rebecca Solnit, and Christiana Figueres. I’m taking every opportunity now to strengthen and deepen my meditation practice and spiritual understanding in order to cope with the unfathomable election results, and build resilience for the work ahead. I’m grateful for Indivisible, and for all the other grassroots groups who are already gathering momentum; I’m grateful for the many women and men in government jobs who are already struggling to stand strong for truth and freedom.

I’m grateful for these gloriously colored flowers that I get to plant in my own little yard, anticipating some bright spots of beauty if I live til spring. I’m grateful to understand that anything can happen, any time, and it has always been this way. Today is no different than the November full moon a year ago, or ten years or twenty before that. I’ll be grateful to wake up alive tomorrow morning. Ongoing mindfulness practice creates the opportunity to open to radical acceptance of impermanence. It isn’t easy, but it really makes sense. And it makes each day, each aware breath, each tiny perfect moment of beauty, sweetness, kindness, connection, all that much more precious and meaningful.

Help

Dec11

I’m grateful today for the opportunity to help someone process a big and painful decision, and I’m grateful for receiving a healing session of embodied inquiry from a new teacher. I’m grateful for the profound meaning I experienced with each, and the heartfelt connection with someone else in the first case, and with my self in the second. I’m also grateful for altocumulus clouds!

Break Time

Jan30
Wren enjoys a little break from her busy morning as I read with coffee before beginning my work day.

I am continually frustrated with the load of ‘cordwood’ that I paid a lot of money for last fall, despite my best effort to let go. Every time I load wood into the trolley to bring it inside I get an opportunity to practice acceptance and equanimity. Every time I load up the woodstove with half a dozen or more hand-sized ‘logs’ which happens about every hour or two, I get an opportunity to practice acceptance and equanimity. It’s not so much that I mind the extra work of having to fill the stove so very often: It’s keeping me warm, after all wood is wood. What I mind is having paid so very much money for such tiny scraps of wood. So very much of the wood is actually mill scrap. These were supposed to average 14″ long and 3-4″ diameter, that’s what I paid for.

But like my friend Peter used to say, “Oh well.” I can still practice gratitude, noting that I won’t run out of firewood this winter, that there is a kind helper who brings it down to the house for me, that I have a house, that I have a good stove and chimney. No matter what our challenges, if we are paying attention we can always find something to be grateful for. I have the added gratitude of a good recliner, and sufficient leisure in a day to spend some time in it reading, with a cozy blanket, and a sweet companion.

I’m grateful that there are people who read this blog and when it doesn’t show up they sometimes check on me to make sure I’m ok. For you, I want to let you know that I’m working on a big project for the next several weeks, and will be posting less often than usual. It doesn’t always take a lot of time to post, but I like to give it a hundred percent attention when I do it, and I won’t have that available at the end of every day for awhile. Thank you so much for your attention, responses, and affection. I’ll be here as much as I can this coming month, but not every day. I’m grateful for break time.

Wishing everyone peace and ease on this third anniversary of WHO’s declaration of Covid-19 as a “public health emergency of international concern (PHEIC).” WHO reiterated that designation today, stating that the world “cannot afford to be complacent” at the same time they seem poised to succumb to the same ennui as most Americans. Oh well. Not my job.

Resting

Dec16

Wren doing Arts & Crafts at doggie daycare yesterday. I’m grateful today that we both got to rest at home. I napped in the morning, I napped in the afternoon, I showered and rinsed my achy nose; I read, ate, read, talked with people; I rested all day and now it’s time for bed. I actively appreciated so much of what I did and didn’t do today. Namaste.

Acceptance

Aug11

It’s a yawn, not a scream. For a split second it could have gone either way. Just as I was rolling over to get out of bed this morning, Topaz jumped up, almost on top of Wren’s head. Wren didn’t even flinch. The cat lay down with the dog, and there was nothing I could do but lie back and smile with a gentle hand on each of their tummies, grateful for acceptance, for peace in the kingdom, for a good excuse to stay in bed another twenty minutes.

Boyz Lunch

Jun16

I am always grateful for Boyz Lunch. Today, the company of my dear lunch boys assuaged the melancholy left by the ghost of lamented potential; and also just the fleeting visit from an old friend. It was fun to plan the meal, use preserved tomatillo salsa from last summer’s harvest, soak and cook dried black beans from Rancho Gordo instead of opening the usual cans, and make enchiladas with corn tortillas from a regional tortilleria. Yellow rice is so much easier than I knew, just add turmeric. The meal took some thought and preparation but was ultimately so simple, so delicious.

I combined three recipes to make the most of what I had on hand, adding cream cheese and cheddar to the shredded chicken, (cooking rice in the leftover chicken water); mixing cream, sour cream, cumin, and more leftover chicken water in the blender with the salsa verde then pouring that over the filled and rolled tortillas in a 9″x13″ baking dish. I’m grateful, as always, to have a well-stocked spice rack, pantry, and refrigerator. I’m grateful for my ‘personal shoppers’ who continue to coddle me through covid. I’m grateful for every little piece of the puzzle that comes together to create, serve, and enjoy lunch weekly with an intimate club of three that’s been dining here for nearly six years. I’m grateful for the acceptance and gratitude we share for each other and for our precious, impermanent time together.