Things are going to change around here

It's been a while since I've posted. I've been preoccupied. This site is going to go under some major construction - I've changed, so, the blog must follow. It might take me another month or so to figure out what it's going to look like around here.

I've already shared my thoughts on "transitioning" to a vegan lifestyle. Considering a path of unconditional compassion towards living things led me into a spiritual reckoning. For some time I've had no spiritual outlet outside of practicing yoga. I've long had trouble connecting to the mainstream religions of my local community. Veganism took me down a route outside of what is readily available to me where I live.

I venture about 50 minutes away from home every Wednesday night to a Theravada Buddhist temple across the James River Bridge.

We begin by listening to the monks chant (well, I listen... I'm leaving learning Pali as a second language for retirement) for half an hour. I believe the text we use is wide spread among the other Buddhist sects. For the first time in a very long time, I'm not having trouble saying the words (in English) out loud. When I was growing up in the Lutheran church, if I came across something in a hymn, prayer, or creed which I could not honestly profess, I would not say it. There's only a word or two in our chanting text that I cannot say. The script is a call for thinking before you act, having gratitude for all your benefactors, and desiring peace and happiness for all sentient beings.

An hour and fifteen minutes of meditation follows the chanting. We are seated for thirty minutes, then we practice walking meditation for another half hour, and the last fifteen minutes are spent seated again. It's a nice long period of quiet exploration. I've been meditating every day, outside of services, for a minimum of 10 minutes since December 31st of last year. I've worked my way up to knowing I can sit and concentrate for at least forty minutes. I enjoy walking meditation for the same reasons I find yoga a wonderful mindfulness practice. By asking the mind to focus on one thing, the body can participate in clearing the mind (feels pretty good after sitting for forty minutes).

We have a fifteen minute break in which we gather in a lobby area for tea and snacks. I always bake something to offer the sangha. We're a small group, but, they're lovely people who have been very welcoming. I think this is the only aspect of church that I missed somewhat- knowing people on a weekly basis. Catching up in batches, genuinely caring for someone who is, for lack of a better word, like-minded. Most of these people have been practicing long before me, but, they are patient, kind, and gracious with my wonderings and questions.

We meet back in the meditation room for an hour Dharma Talk. You could think of this as the Buddhist sermon, but, it's much more interactive. It's more of a discussion. A monk offers his insight to our questions on any number of spiritual topics. Lately, we've been focusing on mindfulness for beginners (not entirely sure why... only two of us who come regularly are particularly new), but, I'm looking forward to seeing how we can broaden the discussion to outreach for the community, compassion for others. Buddhism can appear to be pretty self-centered... but, I follow the belief that we work towards bettering ourselves so that we might be fit to benefit the world.

My adventures in meditation have been sheer bliss. Even the days when I just can't get my head to shut-up, I'm always glad I sat down and tried. Fortunately, I'm not the only person in my sangha who struggles with this. A gentleman asked the monk a week or two ago how to stay calm, how to get there and stay there. The monk, straight-faced replied, "If always calm, no need to practice," to which we all, even our very serious monk, had a good laugh.

I often need something to recenter me at the first sound of the bell. I tend to actively follow my breath. I note in my mind the beginning of the inhale, the middle, the end, and then the breathless state between the beginning of the exhale, followed by the middle, and the end of the exhalation, then again to that breathless state before the next breath. A member of the temple told us that this is the sort of exercise the Lord Buddha was performing when he attained Enlightenment under the bodhi tree. I'm not enlightened, but, I'm working on it.

At some point, I can just soften my breath and feel the quiet. Either I ride the wave or I end up sifting through thoughts. The point is not to shoo those thoughts away... I interact with them like a third party observer. I see a feeling arise... discomfort, excitement, anger, bewilderment... and I ask myself what it is, how it got here, and how it can be set free. Typically, if I take that effort to address the feeling, I can come back to the quiet.

I've had a feeling for some time that an Eastern religion would resonate with me strongly, but, it wasn't until I did a little research that I could finally make that call. I read about the Mahayana Buddhists who believe strongly in the ahimsa statute, ("Do no harm"). They apply this to animals, therefor, they tend to be vegans. I don't have easy access to that sect of Buddhism around here, but, I listen to Thich Naht Hanh's Dharma Talks online to stay connected to a great teacher who holds this belief. I've also signed up to go and meditate at one of his monasteries while he's in the country for five days to celebrate my birthday this year (so I can leave my 20s in peace, thank you very much...).

What really sold me was the Buddha himself. The handful of Buddhist teachers I've come across agree on this: When the Buddha had decided to share what he learned after his enlightenment with others, he insisted, "Do not believe this because I have said it. Believe this if you find it to be true in your own experience." I'm not badgered into agreeing with some archaic rhetoric that makes no sense to me in my modern world. The truth is somewhere inside all of us- we just have to dig it out. I could get into a long, drawn out entry on this topic alone, but, that's not why I'm writing today.

In the time I've been away from the blog, I also participated in Kris Carr's 21 day detox and had a chance to meet her. On top of that, I met Colleen Patrick-Goudreau, the woman who inspired my vegan lifestyle. These two events not only sent a surge of reassurance and awe in me, but, it made me look at my health. I did not get into the vegan movement for health reasons, but, taking a closer look at my habits has changed everything. I regularly rise just after 7am and make time to meditate and read my devotionals (won't go into them today, among them is THE VEGAN'S DAILY COMPANION by Colleen Patrick-Goudreau). I drink fresh green juice everyday (thanks to David, really, who still gets up earlier than I do) and that makes more of a difference than I thought possible. Giving up dairy had already restored my energy, but green juice shoots it through the roof! I eat more raw food than I did in the beginning of my journey, but, I'm not exclusively raw.

I had to visit the doctor recently and she ordered some blood work on me (guess because I was a new patient). As much as I believe in my lifestyle, I was concerned that she would find some holes in my nutrition and lecture me about my eating habits. Instead, I was cleared as "the sort of person who will come to the office once a year." I'm not anemic, I have healthy organ function, no issues with cholesterol or diabetes, good levels of nutrients including calcium (milk is NOT necessary - greens are!), and there was some other gobbledygook I didn't understand, but, it was all good news! I was deficient in Vitamin D, but, most people are, especially in winter. I was sent home with the order to find a D supplement and that was it.

I've never thought of myself as a healthy person - FMS will fix a girl on any hopes for fitting into that category. I've been under the impression for the better part of 12 years that I'm a sick person who manages her symptoms. No one, certainly not a doctor, has accused me of being healthy since I was much younger.

My point is I've been snowballing, unexpectedly, into a beautiful life. From veganism to Buddhism to conscious healthy eating, I've become much closer to the person I've wanted to be, but always had a reason for finding her out of reach.

So, with all these updates in mind, it's Lent time again and I still plan on participating in the exercise. Diet won't be a place from which I can pull since I'm very conscious about balance there. I was somewhat frenzied last week thinking about what I could "give up" for 4o days and nights that would fit into my lifestyle.

I was reading my VEGAN'S DAILY COMPANION when I came across an entry on silence. I shook with joy, literally, while reading the passage. Colleen takes a day or two of silence to clear her mind out, to recenter, and she finds that she tends to be more measured when she speaks again. Less pointless complaining or chatter, more constructive talk.

I think I mentioned last year that what I really wanted to do was take some version of a vow of silence, but, I had a lot of skeptics in my midst that I chose to believe. My routine experiment didn't work out too well last year; I wanted to establish a regular morning regiment of getting up before 9am. Of course, now I know why that didn't work out, and there's a chance that this idea will snag, too, but, I'm going to try anyway.

I want to deepen my spiritual practice this Lent, so, I am going to pick a certain number of hours in which I will remain completely silent every day (two or three minimum, more on days when I can afford it without "bothering" the people or events around me... I'm not going to sit in a restaurant, for example, and write down what I want to say rather than talking!) This might take some getting used to... I'm one of those freaks who talks to herself on the walk to work from the car... and back... and on the drive home... I may also establish a morning routine that will fit every morning of my week. I work at weird moments here and there during the week, so, I can't make a perfect routine throughout each day. However, I think I can aim to sleep and rise at the same time and work through a specific routine: meditation, readings, writing in my meditation journal, setting my intention for the day, etc.

It's good to be back... to bring my liveliness into what I love, making my newness normal.

A walk in the park

Squirrel's nest high in the trees

Kids of all ages watch ranger pick apart an owl pellet

Knock before you enter

Approaching the swamp

Water, trees, sky, sun...

...just took pictures of the moments that moved me.

Transition, Schmransition...

I know I wrote recently about transitioning into a vegan lifestyle. Even I thought that meant I would do some reading, listen to my favorite vegan podcast on iTunes, start making vegan meals here and there and chilling out if I wanted to go somewhere to eat that could only serve a vegetarian omelette... but, that's not how it's worked out.

After making my decision, I couldn't touch the stuff. I had an episode one evening when I was cutting some peppers... not realizing I was cutting hot peppers with my bare hands. Around 8pm, my hands started to burn. I kept dipping them into ice water until after midnight. When I removed them to prepare for bed, the burning only got worse. As I lay in bed, clutching a bag of ice, David reminded me that there was still left over milk yogurt in the fridge. That finally broke my resolve, my steady ujjayi breath wavered, and I began to cry. It was pretty pitiful. I just couldn't use the suffering of dairy cows to stave off my petty, physical pain. I fortunately remembered we also had plain coconut milk yogurt. On a whim, and in an attempt to prep me for the vegan experiments ahead, I bought some pre-made provisions at the local health market earlier that week. In that intense moment, I figured if coconut milk was used in Thai iced tea to reduce the burn of spicy food on the tongue, surely there would be a similar cooling effect on my skin. I dipped my fingers into the white goop and practically fell asleep two minutes later. It worked. No animals were harmed in the making of my relief.

That episode made me realize I was too devoted to the concept of veganism to bother transitioning. Come to think of it, transitions were never my strong suit in life. Once I make a decision, I pretty much dive in (which is why it can often take me quite some time to make a decision).

In celebration, I made my own vegan brunch, to see if I could pull it off.

What you see in the picture above was my attempt on a Sunday morning to recreate, with some alterations, the glorious brunch we had at the vegan bakery in D.C. A pot of cinnamon and blood orange tea, pumpkin scones, and tofu scramble with a side of tempeh bacon.

Vegan baking just takes a little rewiring. After that, it's very simple. I've never considered myself much of a baker... I never liked it because my results were rarely tasty. Chemistry was never my subject. But, somehow, without the milk and eggs, I'm getting quite adept at creating satisfying baked goods. I keep a batch of something filling around for my breakfasts in the morning. Those pumpkin scones were the essence of autumnal comfort food.

Tempeh bacon is remarkably easy to make. Liquid smoke makes lots of things amazingly rich tasting. It doesn't have the same crunch as bacon, but the taste of hickory smoke and a pinch of salt make this a tasty alternative. Worked excellent for TLT sandwiches as well as breakfast burritos filled with tofu scramble.

Tofu scramble is also a simple process. Sauté some vegetables, add crumbled tofu, mix in some spices, and there it is... deceptively filling!

I did have to adjust my eating habits. Because my meals are so much lower in calories, I've had to eat more food during the day to feel satisfied. I have since leveled out a bit, getting accustomed to the feel of my new eating habits. I am definitely prepping and cooking more. I bring suitable snacks to work for an energy boost between classes. I bake at least once during the week to keep more breakfast, snack, and dessert options around. I buy different foods to help bind and fill in the spaces... tempeh, more grains, ground flax seeds, etc.

But, more remarkable than how I learn to cook and eat is how I feel. As I've mentioned in this blog before, I have FMS. Since I was 17 years old, I've had trouble getting up in the morning. For Lent this year, I chose to "give up" my troubles with waking up by training my body to wake up earlier and go to bed earlier. I wasn't entirely successful. However, since I cut out the dairy and eggs, my energy level has changed drastically. For the last several mornings, I have woken up at 7:15 am at the latest, in bed between 10:30 pm-12:30 am. A large low pressure system has also blown through recently... the kind that used to knock me flat with back pain, headaches, fatigue, and confusion (also known as "fibro fog"). While I felt some minor discomfort in my low back, I was functional, and awake. I felt normal despite the rain.

I'm willing to believe that part of my ability to quickly jump into veganism is rooted in my heritage. Dairy is not really present in the Asian diet. My genetics, perhaps, picked up on my grandmother's distaste (and difficulty digesting) milk, cheese, etc. I've not been this... can I say un-sluggish?... in a very, very long time. I'm even calmer and more at peace than I was when I started on this path. Not only have I ceased contributing to things I cannot ever again support due to my ethical understanding, but my body just agrees with this kind of eating.

Overnight, I found a beautiful thing... a lifestyle of gratitude, respect, and cookie dough I can eat with no fear!

A trip to the farm

After attending a wedding two weeks ago (and after the glorious vegan brunch), David and I made our way to visit a farm that borders Maryland and Virginia on the way home. Graciously, the farmers who work and live there accepted us last minute on a Sunday to take a walking tour.

I'll keep the actual name of the farm to myself for now, but, any regular shoppers at the Farmers' Market in Colonial Williamsburg have the opportunity to meet two of my new favorite people.

Lawrence and Becky live on land passed down in Lawrence's family for at least three generations. You have to take one of those "over the river and into the woods" sort of roads to cautiously idle into a quiet open area tucked within the woods.

When we arrived at the old farmhouse, Lawrence came to the door and invited us in. We drank iced tea and chatted in a kitchen frozen in time. The farmhouse has had some additions, renovations, but the kitchen is definitely part of the original building. Stone tile floor, brick walls, a fireplace, and a shelf just under the ceiling lined with homemade canned vegetables. We sat at their large wooden table and just talked for a while about... well, everything. I was not expecting the immediate openness that blossomed in that kitchen. It felt more like coming home to a close relative's house and visiting after too much city slicking. They asked about our lives, work, what we're cooking at home, etc. We asked them how they felt this growing season fared for them, what their plans for next year might be, how they really feel about being USDA certified organic farmers (that's a loaded topic for another blog altogether).

Our walk took us through some of our favorite crops of vegetables we purchase from them at the market. Becky would talk to me about the care of the particular plant and would pull off and bite right into a tomato or pepper (after handing out a sample to each of us on the tour). We listened to our guides while nibbling on jewels plucked right off the plant... a very different experience than buying something from the grocery store that was trucked in from California (no offense to the abundance we enjoy from the temperate climate of the west coast). You can taste the earth, the minerals everyone says you're supposed to get from your veggies... it's not that you can't just tell you're eating a tomato or a pepper, but, it's more like a pepper, more like a tomato, if that makes sense. Super Pepper! Super Tomato!

We walked to the chicken coop to meet the hens and roosters. I had been particularly interested in seeing how these chickens live, knowing their eggs are sometimes featured at the market (this past summer, I was one of the customers who got up early enough to take advantage of their limited supply... Lawrence and Becky do not force their chickens to lay... they either do or they don't).

Becky showed me where the chickens hide out to lay their eggs, the variations in colors of birds and shells. It was very reassuring to watch her pet her chickens lovingly, like you might your dog or cat. Many of the birds have names. I'm sad to say I didn't commit any to memory, but, I do remember the things the farmers bring in for the chickens to nibble on. They like tomatoes and, as not perfectly pictured below, dried sunflowers.

In the picture below, this is David next to a field of asparagus. You think of the spears on your plate, but the plant part of asparagus grows into long, feathery stalks.

I'm not picky and I love all vegetables that I know of... all save okra. What's interesting though, is okra produces these really pretty flowers.

Throughout our walk, we were accompanied by Lawrence and Becky's dogs, Bazer and Gus. It was really kind of sweet. It was a very warm afternoon, and we didn't ask them to come, but the dogs trotted along with us... sometimes sniffing at the veggies, sometimes waiting in the shade... When there was no shade a at short distance from the humans, Gus would dig a quick hole at the edge of a patch of vegetables and hop in it until we moved on.

We saw more insects than I think I've ever seen in one afternoon in my life. In my white, somewhat tidy apartment, the presence of a bug is easily detected (and, in this house, we're the sort of freaks who escort bugs back outside). It would take me a second or two to realize there was, for instance, a large wasp on a leaf inches away from my hand. The farmers were very unmoved by the bugs, and I tried to follow suit. Soon, I could see the wasp was much more interested in the caterpillar he was eating than me and I calmed down about seeing any other stingy bug. I was still a little unnerved by the squash bugs... I had heard of squash bugs, but, seeing hundreds of them taking out a squash was... well... disturbing.

Of the many things I valued about this trip, one of the most precious moments was shared with Becky. I felt pretty close to her through the whole tour, but, when she introduced me to Cynthia, I knew Becky would just always be one of those "mother figure big sister warm fuzzy" people in my heart. Cynthia is seen as a sad clump of gold red feathers in the picture below. She is a rescued pet. I forget how the opportunity arose, but, she was not of Becky's flock. The suggestion was to put this chicken down due to the fact that her leg was permanently injured (it's sort of bent back... like, if your knee had been cracked the way it's not supposed to bend and tucked up to your hip). Becky said she would rather take the chicken home, since she was just broken, not suffering, and care for her. She puts her water and seed in a low bowl next to her bush in the shade where she can live out the rest of her days in peace.

Most of the farmers' animals are rescued. They have a three legged cat named Orion and two other large, happy though somewhat skittish farm cats... and the sweetest milky kitten named Pearl. These are not all the picture-perfect animals from picture books in our childhood, but they're all kind, friendly, and pleased with their home life.

After our walk, we picked some things from the gardens and made lunch together. It was not at all uncommon for these kind omnivores to sit down to a vegetarian lunch and not call it "vegetarian"- it was just a good, healthy lunch they provided themselves through the hard work on the farm.

Becky put together this beautiful salad of fresh tomatoes, luscious greens (all kinds of greens grow on their land from red lettuce, arugula, horseradish, basil, etc), a little onion, and some olive oil.

Lawrence sliced some of their sweet potatoes and made large, yummy home fries.

David chopped up one of their "salsa kits" that they make for the market of fresh tomatoes, peppers, onion, and a pinch of garlic.

We served it all with chips and tea and had a glorious, long, lazy Sunday lunch together.

Becky and Lawrence remind me of the way I want to be... more open and generous to strangers. My time living on college campuses and with other people in suburban neighborhoods has made me somewhat isolated. Now, no one has a reason to come to my place if they don't know me, but, I'd like to think I should know my community, invite someone over to dinner if I know they're on their own for whatever reason. These kindly farmers are also just so honest and open to discussion. I could have told them I was a researcher for SETI or that I paint shoe racks or that I recycle tin from cans into shovels and they wouldn't have found me odd or judged my interests. Not that I'm specifically judgmental, but, my brand of humor comes off as such, I'm sure, and I'd like to work on bringing about an air of openness, freedom from my silly opinion.

As if the whole experience was not enough, Lawrence and Becky sent us home with a bag full of crowder peas (which David later turned into awesome Indian cuisine for our dinner this past week), some chives, herbs, and a new cookbook. Needless to say, we were humbled and moved by their generosity to us, two goofy kids who just wanted to see their farm and meet their chickens.

It was an amazing day I doubt I'll ever forget. I have so much gratitude that these hardworking, kind people exist.

My thoughts on going vegan

Those of you who follow this blog already know that I made the decision to become a vegetarian in January of this year (see relevant posts 1 and 2). It's not that I was suddenly made aware of the horrific, inhumane, and torturous conditions of the factory farms... it's not that I did not already know thoughtful vegetarians who talked to me about their thoughts on eating... I just had this intense, emotional reaction to a film trailer (Disney's Oceans, which I reviewed here) that reminded me of the simple fact that animals live.

This takes me back to the first time I "became vegetarian..."

I am technically the first vegetarian I ever met. I had a conversation with a spunky, red haired girl in 4th or 5th grade (I was 10 years old) in the school cafeteria. I don't know for certain whether or not this girl was a vegetarian herself... I can't recall at all what was said either. What I do remember is this intense realization, this emotional horror that made me want to stop eating meat. I know it had nothing to do with factory farming... I just put two and two together. Animals walk and talk to each other like you and me, the humans. That was it.

The reason my vegetarianism did not last, at the risk of making it sound like I'm blaming my parents, is I had no support in learning about what I needed to eat in order to stay healthy. In my parents' defense, they had just had twin babies at the time and had little reserves for teaching their somewhat wild and precocious girl about being a healthy vegetarian. Also, in their defense, I have an understanding of their background, their paradigm, of trusting the USDA and what comes to the grocery store... of everything in our human history that makes eating meat highly "normal" and even "essential to good health." My declaration of vegetarianism came out of nowhere for them. I'm sure that they've asked most of their life where in the hell I came from...

I still didn't eat red meat even after my doctor threatened me with an IV. I was just never a fan. It had the most overwhelming taste of... well, blood, I guess, to me. My birth father, when I was still expected to visit him on the weekends after his divorce from my mother, would take me and my half-siblings through fast food restaurants all the time. He did not ask for our opinion. He did not ask for our preferences, which, at the time, I guess I would have chosen chicken or fish (Was that a "golden arch" option in the 80s? I can't remember anymore...). He always passed back from his driver's seat hamburger meals. I, like my father, did not think to ask for anything different, so, I would only eat the French fries and the top part of the bun- you know, where the tiny diced onions are stuck with mustard or ketchup (speaking of which, I've always disliked ketchup, but, I preferred it to the beef).

My point is I spent 13 years of my life not touching beef. That's not a grand accomplishment, but, I was already accustomed to "not eating like everyone else." I guess that's why I never bothered feeling daunted or insulted when I would meet the occasional vegetarian or vegan. Instead, I was usually proud. I don't know how I derived this from my experience, but I think I guessed I was too busy, maybe even volunteering that I was too lazy, to be a full vegetarian or vegan. It wasn't that I didn't admire or understand the many, many reasons people have for disposing of meat or animal by-products from their lifestyles... I just didn't think I was "smart enough" to make it work.

But, as I've mentioned, I was too moved this past year to ignore this old sense within me that there's something about eating meat that would no longer work for me. The transition has not been hard for me, and my friends and loved ones have been, largely, supportive. My mother has been more experimental with her cooking and always prepares something meatless for me when I visit. One of my aunts always has something to offer me (makes a lot of roasted veggies) whenever I stop by for anything... even if I'm just picking up a book or dropping something off. I've been very, very lucky, though, vegetarianism, in my small circle at least, is not as taboo or alternative as it used to be. People are learning more about factory farming, sustainable living, global warming, carcinogens, etc... there are more of us than you might think!

But, I have not been completely liberated from the veil over animal products. The more I learn now about what happens to dairy cows, layer hens, and numerous traces of animals in candy, cake mixes, cheese, wines, etc, I'm beginning to lean towards learning to become vegan before the year is out.

A lot of my information and incentives come from Colleen Patrick-Goudreau, a vegan writer and cook with a great free podcast available through i-Tunes or through Miss C's website (Visit http://www.compassionatecooks.com/). I have definitely been moved by her passion and extensive research in her podcasts and cookbooks. I recently purchased THE VEGAN TABLE and devoured the amazing recipes and information she makes accessible to her readers. She works very hard to reinvent the feeling we want from our food without condoning cruelty and exploitation of animals.

All I can say about most of this is that it's my experience. I have just found so much renewed joy in my life due to the convergence of several topics. I have found more peace in my sense of spirituality (landing somewhere in the realm of Shinto Buddhism) as I have discovered the peace that can come with veganism. I just want to share how I feel without agenda...

I feel more awake. I feel more like me. I feel more. I'm not the most openly emotional person I know, but I find myself choking back tears when I think about what happened to the dairy cows who provided the milk in my fridge, the curds for my cheese, or what happened to their sons. Dairy cows are not like wet nurses. They have to stay pregnant, similar to people, in order to produce milk. They carry a baby for 9 months, similar to us. But, unlike us, unless we choose adoption or surrogates (two other forms of compassion), their sons are taken from them shortly after birth and slaughtered for veal. I know our culture sees a cow as food... but all I can see now are mothers and sons, slaves, abuse, and the murder of babies.

It haunts me, these voiceless creatures who fight for their lives but are subject to the dominion of humans. However, and this is common knowledge to those who are allergic to dairy products (which is more natural than the word "allergy" lends to this phenomenon), dairy products are hidden in so many other foods. People who cannot digest dairy also have to learn new vocabulary such as "whey," "casein," "curds," etc, and become expert label readers. Animal pieces are in candies (for example gelatin, made from boiling the hooves and bones of slaughtered animals), some wines are filtered with animal bladders, and several other things contain animals parts that do not strike us as "animal products." It's a challenge to be aware of all the hidden places for which tortured animals were stripped of their innards and remains.

So, it helps to get around someone or someplace that can do this for you, to get you used to the idea. I went to a wedding this past weekend in DC. Aside from the fact that I had a good time dancing and celebrating with some of David's friends (who lovingly provided me and a few others with a vegetarian meal during the reception), I took advantage of our location and asked David to humor me and go to the Sticky Fingers Bakery for brunch yesterday.

(from thevoraciousvegan.com)

I wanted to go somewhere that would serve only things that I knew I was willing to eat. I wanted to see what the vegan brunch would look like. I have been eating eggs all this time before learning about how layers are treated (even your "free range" eggs come from chickens kept in cramped cages, whose beaks are cut off with no anesthetic, and are generally sick from living in their own filth). I have even chosen restaurants based on egg dishes that I like. I'll admit, I've been having trouble imaging how to eat and live without eggs, something I had previously thought to be an innocent byproduct.

Also, what about coffee? I was a well-trained barista for four years and I know that soy milk is just not the same. It doesn't taste, set, or steam the same as cow's milk. I took all these questions to DC's Sticky Fingers bakery, voted Best Bakery and Best Vegan Restaurant this year.

Just look at this:

This was the latte brought out to me... I, in my experience, was never able to get soy milk to do this, but, here it is. Right in front of me. With a pinch of agave, it was pure, liquid, bliss. I grinned ear to ear (I'm not the smiling type either) the rest of the morning for this little discovery all on its own. An excellent soy latte.

Here was my breakfast platter:

What you're looking at is home fries, blueberry sauce for the vegan French toast, a slice of cantaloupe, tempeh bacon (So good that I had to get a TLT to-go for a meal later in the day), and tofu scramble (I believe this was tofu cooked with tumeric to create that familiar egg yellow color). This meal was filling and such a delightful parade of flavor, texture, and guilt-free eating. David ordered a breakfast burrito with beans, greens, and tofu scramble of which he kindly, if not somewhat begrudgingly, gave me a bite. I'm not a fan this goofy word, but, I'm going to use it: YUMMY.

So, the verdict is, I'm choosing to learn how to be vegan. I felt so good yesterday and rode this bizarre, hard to grasp wave of joy from morning til night. I am so grateful for the options available to me, that I can change my lifestyle to nourish my body on a purely plant-based diet. I feel love for the people in my life even more deeply because, once I opened my heart to voiceless, helpless beings, my heart opened to everything a little more. Even my hinting at "finding my spirituality" ties into this stance of non-violence and a desire to inspire love between all things that breathe.

I am tempered, however, with the advice of long-time vegans like Miss C. She reminds me that it's just as important to "speak my truth," to live in accordance with my beliefs, as to be patient and understanding towards people who make different choices. I still have a lot to learn, I have many questions. For instance, even if the whole nation "went veg," what would happen to the farm animals? They are not the creatures of the last century. We have bred them to, essentially, get fat fast. I read a story about a factory farm pig being rescued and taken to an animal sanctuary. While he is now free to live out his days in peace, he has a rough time moving around. Since he is living well beyond the average lifespan for his stock, he weighs a troubling amount for his aging, tiny limbs. My question for veganism reaches towards looking at a long term goal.

Also, what about byproducts? Are there any ethical ways of eating eggs (from well treated hens) and cheese (from cows who get to raise their sons... if such blessings exist)? And what's the deal with bees? Won't that honey just dry up in the hive? I'm prepared for some eye-opening responses, but I'm seeking the answers on my own with the intent of learning to cut dairy and all other animal products from my eating habits.

My point is just to express my happiness, my renewed zest for life. All my choices are freshly informed... from what I eat and wear to where I buy furniture or how I reuse household items. I seek to contribute to peace, sustainable energy usage, preservation of natural resources, and being less wasteful to my planet. I feel awakened, at the risk of sounding preachy or evangelical. It's just how I feel. I am not merely existing. I am living.

I can't review "Eat, Pray, Love"

(from http://macleans.files.wordpress.com)

I am one of those people. I like to read the book before I go into a film adaptation at the theater. Problem with the release of EAT, PRAY, LOVE, is that I was more prepared than usual.

There are very, very few books I've read more than once. EAT, PRAY, LOVE is one of them. Aside from that, I was lucky enough to go with Anya to Frederick, Maryland this past April to actually meet Elizabeth Gilbert.

Okay. "Meet" is a strong word.

We had tickets to go to an art gallery in this quaint college town (nice place to visit, really) and have cocktails and appetizers with the one and only Elizabeth Gilbert (and maybe 40 other women). Anya and I put on our artsy best to go and strike up a conversation with the author... but, at the moment of truth, we panicked.

We suddenly had no idea what to say to this tall, lovely, gracious, smiling woman who wrote an international bestselling memoir on its way to the big screen. Anything "smart" I had thought of to say on the walk to the gallery evaporated.

At least I was not as pathetic meeting Elizabeth Gilbert as I was meeting Andrea Marcovicci. When my turn came to chat with the woman, ask her about her career, I just broke down and cried. Andrea, lovely woman that she is, eventually put her hand on my shoulder and asked if I was okay. SHEESH. I was fortunate to merely observe that specific crying basket case when I met Elizabeth Gilbert. Across the room, a short woman (well, we were all sort of short compared to Ms. Gilbert) was sobbing and choking on her gratitude for... well, who knows? I thanked my lucky stars I wasn't doing that again and waited my turn in the signing line to shake the author's hand.

We had front row seating at the interview later that evening in the college theater. Beautiful old building with a stage set for two with big comfy chairs, a coffee table, an absurd flower arrangement, and cups of water. I often feel bad for authors asked to speak in front of college kids and the public... Writers tend to write for a reason and you can see the stilted nerves peeking through the well-written speeches. But, this talk was quite enjoyable. A man sat across from the author and interviewed her. It felt like we were invading on a discussion between two friends.

That being said, we had a chance to see the woman in action. Her mannerisms, the tone of her voice, the flip of her hair, the face she makes when she's caught off guard (like when this lady had the nerve to take her turn at the Q&A mic to ask Elizabeth Gilbert whether or not she should up and move her family to India... WHAT?!), etc.

So, naturally, I had some big expectations walking into the film.

Before I get to my non-review (due to my experiences, I think my opinion in evaluating the experience of the story would be unreliable), I'll say that the interviewer did ask Elizabeth Gilbert back in April how she felt about Julia Roberts portraying her in the movie. The author smiled, took a brief glance to her black flats, and said, "You know, I think it's really great. Julia Roberts has staff- she can take the pressure off of me being me. People might start to associate the book with her so I can just grow my peas in peace."

Honestly, it still took me about 30 minutes to get over the fact that Julia Roberts was trying her darnedest to overcome her own personality and become a sweet, friendly, emotional person. However, she did win me over. This might be her best work. She clearly spent time observing the author, because some of those mannerisms, tones, gesticulations did come through in her performance. More impressively, I think she captured a very feminine horror... that feeling that comes along in our love stories where we realize we've made a big mistake and yet so desperately wish we could get out of it without hurting the other person... knowing it's not possible. Wanting not to, knowing we have to, walk into the mouth of hell. She got that.

The casting was excellent. Wonderful performances. Some weird choices were made in the series of events that deviate from what happened in the book, but, nothing I need to rant about here... save for the final portion of the film. Bali is the sloppiest section of the movie, in terms of adaptation. The director/screenwriter really pumped up the volume on the drama of Liz, the character, finding love again in Felipe from Brazil. In the book, it seemed like a thoughtful, yet, natural transition. They carefully but willingly fell into their love affair. The movie makes it so... well, Hollywood.

I still think it was a brave thing to do, to make this film at all. Most divorce stories inspire our lust for the vengeance we would never take on a person in real life. Ever see The First Wives' Club? Are we not completely delighted to see each nasty ex-husband finally get pushed around by the wives they so callously cast aside for younger women? Of course we are! But, that's not Liz's story. Liz wanted to seek out peace, forgiveness, resolution.

I think that's risky, to stick to that idea in a modern motion picture. She finds a way to make peace with her husband who made her divorce so hard, who said some hateful things that would disturb the most tough-skinned of women. While I'm not sure why they chose to make the husband's character such a goober in the movie (I'd go into it, but, it makes me tired... such a cheap Hollywood trick to make all other romantic options deplorable so you make your audience want the girl to go for the guy you chose for her), they handled this idea of forgiveness after heartbreak pretty well, pretty close to the real Liz's standards, I'm daring enough to say. Suck it up, America. We're putting our money where our mouth is and cultivating peace rather than seeking empty retribution.

One thing I truly don't like about the film, now that I've seen it a few times, is the soundtrack. It's all popular songs. It needed a composer to write a score that would tie everything together. The soundtrack is so jarring and abrasive that it makes the movie seem more like four little films smashed together and less like one continuous journey. A talented composer could have created themes that grow and change with the landscape and the scope of Liz's experience rather than leaning on goofy, emotive pop songs. I liked the opera used in the pasta eating scene in Italy and the lovely Brazilian music used in Bali... but most of it was obtrusive to the experience and made for a bumpy ride. (I especially disliked the use of Neil Young's Heart of Gold during the Thanksgiving turkey breakfast in Italy... out of place.)

It's a good movie overall. The book is better, of course, and the movie runs a little long, but, it's worth a gander if you're into personal journeys...

The point of a hazy summer afternoon

It sat like a dream, wafting on the humid breeze clouding her vision. Was it the heat driving her indoors, or the fear of making her way in the world? I've waited this long, she sighed to herself, as though her own mother were demanding to know what business she had abandoning her business.

There, she said out loud to no one, I plugged in the fan- as if that took insurmountable strength, every ounce of her concentration. Who did she think she was? Aren't there starving children in Africa? People without AC? Food? Parents? Where did she get off thinking of this as some sort of accomplishment?

The joy and curse of freedom for idleness... she couldn't figure out what else to do. She checked her empty email. She fed the dog. She played umpteen rounds of mahjong. She made faces at Pandora's attempt to understand her style in music as if someone could see her and correct the situation. She didn't Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down anything. She just sat. And sat.

An hour went by. Should she have found something to do by now? Cook? Why? It's too stinking hot to eat. Get some water? Her iced tea had melted and mellowed into lukewarm, greenish-gold fluid. She should finish it. Waste not, want not.The fan was whispering cool breezes against her toes. The damn fan had something to do on this hazy, summer afternoon.

She had excuses for everything. Couldn't start this project without this amount of time or before that other project was complete. Couldn't do that load of laundry until there were enough items in that color to justify a whole load. Wouldn't clean that section of the house if she was just going to have to do it next week when company arrived. Wasn't in the mood her book. Wasn't awake enough for a movie.

She blinked her eyes. Why had she bothered to put in contacts when no one was around to see her? Something inside her had a mission today, but, she still hadn't received confirmation from the mother voice in her head, or Gd, or the dog...

Her eyes closed. Maybe it will come to me if I take a nap- a prophetic dream revealing today's purpose to me. But, she wasn't tired enough to sleep. Her frustration was itching behind her eyelids, bloating in her belly. She could only blame Pandora for her irritation so much longer...

Another hour passed. She refused to believe she was lazy. She had run all her errands yesterday. Went to the grocery, turned in books at the library, made a loaf of bread, pulled out things she had been meaning to donate to free up space, replied to some email requests, agreed to cover a girl from work... she had been plenty busy, plenty productive. She wasn't just a waste of space. She just couldn't think of what to do with herself.

The phone rang.

It startled her. She looked at the Caller ID. Not her, she said out loud, perhaps to the dog who slumped on his right side and grunted sleepily in reply. She hit the Silence button to stop the ringing. A moment later, the doorbell sound she regretted having chosen as her Voicemail alert sounded urgently.

She looked at the phone. Its backlit face read:

VOICEMAIL

> Listen Now

>Listen Later

Great. More choices.

What the hell, she thought silently this time. It's not like I'm doing anything. She made her selection and opened her cell phone to activate the speaker mode:

Guess you're screening calls again. Look. Whatever. I just wanted you to know the results came back. It looks like everything's going to be fine. Talk to you when you feel like it.

Jesus.

Had she been that worried?