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?

Wandering with Eurydice

It was a Tuesday, like the last,
or the thousands of Tuesdays before it
when you'd say, "What's up, Buttercup?"
as I groggily slumped to the breakfast table.

I watched them wrap you up,
seal you in a bag for posterity,
I threw dirt on a box that Saturday
and folded your laundry that evening.

I've spent years waiting, weaving
your stories, your life, into a sweater
that warms my mornings and insinuates
I'll get a postcard or a phone call any day.

You could be anywhere, I spoke to you
in a prayer of thoughtful delusion,
You'll be back soon, and casually look up
from our table, saying to me, "What's up, Buttercup?"

There's a reason they didn't ask
Eurydice to weed her way through
Hades to find her past life, her living love.
It's so easy to trust in shadows here.

But, ten years was too long to wait.
I returned to where your box is hidden,
yet, the garden of tombstones is overrun
with the frozen, leering dead who cannot tell

me where you are, or where you were.
Charon has abandoned his oars and
left pamphlets and maps in his boat,
all gloss and tiny print over identical blocks

shifting silently on their lumpy grid.
Was your name east or west?
How do you read this damn thing?
Why won't you get off your back and

wave to me? Why would you leave me in
this hell of sweaters and empty chairs?
Of people don't seem to realize I'm no
widow, a but gold flower wilting in the sun.

Day after day, I climb back in the boat
and scan the other faceless names on
countless slabs of rock protruding from earth
and browning grass. Ghosts taunt me and

scratch your name into their foreheads,
willing to claim anyone for company in
this abandoned cemetery. They remember Concord,
our neighbors, our son, and they reach out to pull me into

the sea of emptied chest cavities and eyeless skulls.
I'm weary of rowing, tired of this hide and
seek you've been playing with me. My grip
on the oars is loosening, burning holes in my hands.

I'm a little sleepy just now; it's been days of looking.
Hades has no deals to make with my song-less soul.
Tomorrow, or the next day, I'll follow
the creeping buttercups through the graves...

for A,
and her
wandering Eurydice

Strides towards making peace with morning

Memorial Day was a lazy day sprinkled with leftovers from my parents' cookout (they made loads of grilled veggies just for me) and cartoons. On a break from the exquisite laziness, I opened my newly titled Whole Living (It's Body+Soul, new name) and took the quiz to find my "dosha." Without getting into a lecture (or an explanation as to why I'm admitting that I took a magazine quiz), Ayurveda medicine sees humans as having a combination of different doshas, or type of energy. We all have components of reflective and slightly high strung vata (movement), productive and fiery pitta (transformation), and slow and heavy kapha (stability) energies. Still, most of us tend to exhibit more of one of these energies than another and Ayurveda medicine seeks to balance these energies out. For example, to cool the overactive fire of pitta energy, one adds elements (activities, food, people, etc) of cooling, soft kapha energy.

Well, that's the most simplistic explanation I've ever seen... it's not the whole story, but it's the gist of what I've had in mind as I approach this week.

I can get very overwhelmed looking at my week. I have a bad habit of feeling dread for what would look like just a moderately full agenda to others. I think this stems from my FMS, which I don't often discuss, since I dislike the look I get from people as though I will blow away in the wind before their very eyes. I'm not as delicate as all that. However, I do need to find moderation and balance in my activities. I lean towards slow, unproductive days because they take nothing from me, I'm not drained by bedtime. If I get on a roll, doing things and being there for people and working all at once, I keep going and going until I burn out and crash. I pay two uncomfortable days for every day that I lose my resolve and go crazy on the activities.

So, after taking another, more detailed test online, I found that I'm mostly made of kapha energy in a vatta body type (weird). I loathe mornings and have trouble establishing routine without feeling bitter... towards what or whom varies, but, I largely feel I've robbed myself of something my tired body needs. I lean towards this Ayurvedic perspective because I see how my body reinforces the ideas. In the morning, even if I feel physically okay, I tend to feel weighted down with dreams. I start having heavy, detailed, tensely emotional dreams in between smacks of the Snooze Button. I feel like my mind cooperates with my body to keep me down, to force me to rest some more, even if I don't need it.

So, I tried something different last night. I took my Benadryl earlier than bedtime (around 9:30pm). I set up a little space on the hope chest next to the window in the bedroom with a candle, a blanket, and my journal. I left sweet orange essential oil by the bed for the morning. I changed out the music in my cd player/alarm clock to play something calm at 7:15am (I figured, if nothing else, the change would get my attention). I set out clothes for the next day and for work in the evening. I was in bed by 11pm and reading a book that is interesting, but not scintillating. I likely fell asleep at 11:30pm.

When the alarm went off, I hit Snooze twice. I got up at 7:30 this morning.

I've got to write that one more time.

I got up at 7:30 this morning.

Not for work, not for the Market, not for anything but to get up. I went through the morning ablutions, made some water with lemon, lit my candle, and wrote for one full hour in my morning journal (a journal that has been taking me since 2004 to fill... since it's a "Morning Pages" thing...). By 9, I was enjoying my breakfast of rice cakes and natural peanut butter and local wildflower honey, a green apple, and green tea. I read through some blogs with which I've been meaning to catch up, wrote a few emails, I've written this entry... All before noon.

I have to admit- this kicks the hell out of my lackadaisical mornings of struggling to get out of bed by 10 or 11. I still have three and a half hours to myself before I have to go in and teach two classes tonight.

What must have made the difference was making the morning more inviting. Even if I had the sort of job where I needed to be up for a 9-5 time slot, I think this process would still be necessary. To have that quiet down time during which one reflects, sets his or her intentions, and has some calm and nutrition before heading out into the world. This morning was not beautiful- the clouds were bloated and indecisive, and that takes its toll on the moods of us all. But, with my candle set up (one of those lovely lavender candles made by Aveda) and a little spot set up for me to sit upon as I wrote... it was still a special space for me to do with as I needed.

It's already been a good day... and it's only 11:06am.

I'll try again tonight and see what happens.

There is richness in little, personal rituals... we all deserve to find what works for us to wake us up and makes us feel alive. A special breakfast, time to read the paper, Sun Salutations to stretch out and open up the lungs, an episode of your favorite cartoon (or grownup show, for those of you who have graduated) over coffee or tea, etc. We read this, hear this, etc, but, until you try it out for yourself, it all sounds like a magic spell and fairy dust.

I'm sure this won't always be enough. Some mornings I am just going to feel like crap and want to stay in bed. Maybe I'll need the rest then, too. My hope in establishing peace with morning through a new routine is that I'll soon learn the difference between needing rest and needing to inject new energy into my kapha nature to make better use of my days, my life.

(Interested in filling out the chart yourself to balance your own dosha?
Visit: http://www.gothamayurveda.com/)

The Silence of the Gonolek; An elegy

The Silence of the Gonolek


One must use her wings with purpose,
and the gonolek knew her mission.
Feet on the ground, she would make her point.

We were dazzled by your crown;
For the world lacked a face sweet as yours
or a heart that burned with such color.

No one would confuse your cry
with any other whistler or canary.
All living things stop breathing to hear your song.

Voice determined, yet spun from silk.
Seamless and soft, you sang us awake
restlessly tangled in sheets of storm clouds.

We shelter on the ground shivering
as the rain slices through the bush branches.
Your demands echo in our brains
though you've finally flown away.

for Miss Horne

Mourning the loss of Community

Do you know your neighbors? Okay, maybe you've said, "Hello," to the people next to you, under your apartment, etc. But, if you made too much spaghetti, would you invite them over to eat knowing they'd bring wine or cookies or bread or something?

I was thinking today about the part that actually makes me tear up in one of my favorite cartoons. Admittedly, a lot of odd, stupid things make me cry, but, in one animation particularly, a certain scene resonates with me on this personal level. People used to know their neighbors, ask about their kids, bring over extra vegetables from the garden, or invite you over if they know you're alone. In the animation, a little girl makes a big pot of gumbo and, after passing Daddy's taste test, they call out to their neighbors to come over and have some dinner on the back porch. The neighbors bring hush puppies and other things to contribute to the meal, and everyone shares this food together.

I vaguely remember this being a part of my childhood. I knew the neighbor kids, but, I wasn't really interested in playing outside, bookworm that I was. Still, we came to each others' birthday parties, played army dodge ball in the street, rode our bikes together, etc. The neighbor parents knew everyone's name, everyone's interests... I think some of them came to my plays now and again. We weren't close, but, there was a certain comfort, I would think, in sending your kid to the same bus stop early in the morning with Karen's kids or Connie's kids... People you knew.

But, nowadays, I don't know anyone. Not even the people underneath our apartment. They're an elderly couple that moved in about a month ago. We wave once in a while to each other, but, it's just not understood that someone should instigate introductions. I haven't known the past three occupants in that first level apartment. I have no idea who else is around me either. I know there are several kids in the neighborhood... I see them more and more running around outside as the weather warms... they all obviously live on my side of this complex. Still, if one of them was ever lost or injured, I'd have no idea who to call.

When I was in elementary school... probably 6 or 7 years old... I was supposed to get off at a bus stop that was not my regular stop. My grandmother was meant to pick me up, but, when I got off the bus, and the other kids walked off in separate directions to their homes, and I was alone.

Well, I was young, so, I sat down on the curb and cried.

A lady who lived in the house at the corner, where the bus dropped me off, came out and asked me what was wrong. She brought me into her kitchen, gave me a glass of lemonade, and looked up my parents in the phone book (no unlisted mobile phone numbers to confound her). At the time, I didn't realize I was two measly blocks away from home (I know, I know... why my parents didn't just let me off at the usual stop and have Grandmama pick me up from the house so she wouldn't have to get lost... I'll never know...). The lady held my hand, walked me towards my house, and just as we rounded Newman Drive, my grandmother came around the corner.

My mother didn't know this lady, but she knew our neighborhood. We all felt comfortable and safe with the sorts of people who lived there. Nowadays, we worry about so many things... from sex offenders to terrorists, we have lost trust in one another. I have never felt compelled to get to know my neighbors... I hear how they talk to their kids... hear the stuff their kids are too young to be discussing with one another... and I get the vibe that these people are generally unfriendly. I suppose that could just be my neighborhood, but I've seen relations in my parents' part of town deteriorate as well.

Some of the original residents of my parents' street moved away a while ago, especially as their kids grew up and went off to school or got married. I still remember learning that a registered sex offender had moved into PJ's old house. That person has since moved on, however, the damage is done, and now, not even the original neighbors seem interested in maintaining our old friendly, acquaintance. We're generally uninvited.

I don't think the one thorn in our rose bush is what killed our relationships... I could blame all sorts of things. My favorite, lame argument is cell phones and the internet. We're so busy staying "close" to our friends and family online that we seem to forget to interact with real people. I'm not entirely innocent. I text a bit... not as much as a teenager, but, I use that to ask about gatherings, send silly pictures, keep in touch, etc. I've never really enjoyed talking on the phone. If a major event is going on, I ask someone else to call vendors and get details straightened out.

At least I can deal with human beings when there's no getting around them. I wonder, with technology booming all around us, what today's generation of kids and teens know about interacting socially. I went to a store just a month or two ago... and the adolescent boy who was ringing up my purchases did not say a single word to me. Even when I said, "Hello," upon approaching the register, he said nothing. My very existence was the least significant aspect of our exchange. I know he's a kid at work, but at least a brief talk with a slight attitude problem could have been expected from my generation. I couldn't help but wonder what his MySpace page or whatever would feature... the more important representation of his character, perhaps. I'm speculating, and feeling bitter, but who wants to bet I'm guessing accurately?

But, maybe, rather than blame the questionable neighbors or Facebook, perhaps I should also include the general breakdown of social values. Even within my generation, I'm not sure how much time was spent in teaching us how to behave with other people. My mom taught me how to not embarrass her specifically, and my Daddy always seemed to think I laughed too loud, but, I don't recall the lesson about being respectful of elders, helping people who drop things, which fork to use, etc.

Didn't they teach these things in the 1950s? Wasn't there a class you had to take (at least for women) concerning the proper way to behave with other human beings? Didn't they encourage young women to make a pie for the new couple in the neighborhood? Teach young men how to dance, how to ask for a date, how to balance a check book? Didn't grandparents instill a sense of respect for older people? No rolling your eyes as they tell a story from their past? Was there ever the expectation that everyone deserves a kind word or a smile?

I know the world is a little scary. People have found numerous ways to prey off those who are still trusting and kind-hearted. We hear frightening stories too close for comfort... friends losing their lives to break-ins gone wrong, mothers mugged in broad daylight in front of their children, women being raped in the dark of the night in their own homes... There are plenty of convincing reasons we should just keep to ourselves...

...but, if I introduce myself to the elderly couple underneath my apartment, how much would that hurt me? If we attempted to get to know the relatively benign people around us, wouldn't that be power in numbers? Someone who would know you're the one screaming and call the police for you?

Things aren't ideal for the old neighborhoods of pie-making communities, but, I'd like to think that society is not so beyond repair that we can't reinvent the modern neighborhood and remember to be there for one another. Even among our friends, when was the last time you baked cookies for your friends' kids or brought over a movie and popcorn on a lonely night for one of your buddies? Email just isn't that warm and fuzzy, people. We have more intriguing gifts to offer... and receive.

Go to your brother's house. Or go see your next-to-closest friend. Say, "Hi- Need anything?"

You can do it.

Review: Disney Nature's 'Oceans'

(from http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/)

This is today's Astronomy Picture of the Day from the Nasa archive collection. I found it heartwarming after hearing the news about the oil spill off the Gulf Coast. I learned about this tragic incident after I had seen Disney's new nature film Oceans... and my upset over the situation was greatly inflamed by the regrettable loss of sea life (not to mention the 11 people presumed dead after the accident occurred). By majority, we don't live in the sea, so, it's a little hard to place how we affect living things in water. We hear about it, read it in the paper, see the occasional educational commercial for water cleaning efforts and funds, but, unless we get into the waves and surf with the shrimp, whales, sharks, and even stranger creatures that swim in the Earth's veins, it's all just news.

(from http://www.hollywoodgo.com)

It is with this tone that Disney chose to open its new nature film. The audience first sees an immense spanse of waters, hears the roar of the waves, the cry of sea fowl. Then we hear the laughter of children. The camera cuts to a group of kids running towards the shore and stops on the face of one little boy staring out thoughtfully towards the ocean. The voice over informs us that we can't know what the ocean is from a book... we have to experience it.

The rest of the film acts as an introduction to the animals and cycles of life that reside in the sea. The cinematography is absolutely mind-blowing. In one long shot that I don't want to understand how they obtained, we see several iguanas, creatures that bridge the gap between water and land dwellers, lounging on the rocks of the shore. Suddenly, way off in the distance, a rocket bursts into ignition sending a long line of smoke and fire into the air. Before it leaves Earth's atmosphere, the camera focuses on the face of one watchful iguana. You can actually see the rocket rising in the great lizard's eyes. It's very humbling. You can't help but wonder what this creature must think... sitting there, not screaming in fear or hiding behind the rock... just observing as though seeing the future.

We wander into the worlds of other fantastic animals for the rest of the movie. One that I have to mention, for pure beauty's sake, is a sea slug known as The Spanish Dancer. As you can see below, the long, richly colored folds resemble the skirts of a flamenco dancer. It's a shame we call this gorgeous thing a sea slug... the word 'slug' brings to mind those ugly, slimy, dark brown and gray things that invade our gardens or occasionally litter our front porches... not this amazingly lovely life form...

(from http://www.ukdivers.net)

There's also the cuttlefish. I've heard of it, I've even seen it on a the menu of an exotic restaurant here and there... but, I'd never actually seen one. These fish are actually masters of disguise. They have the appearance of some benign, sweet, cartoon fish when they're actually on the prowl for food:

(from http://fundiesvatheists.lefora.com)

But, then they unfurl those front folds and snap their... I guess mouths out with fantastic speed to capture an unsuspecting little fish. The film offers some great footage of cuttlefish hunts.

(from http://www.gozoholidayslellux.com)

There are other scenes of amazing sights that you really have to see the movie to appreciate. The herds of dolphins playfully dancing in a mad dash across the sea... the mountains of crabs that march sideways into a sort of bloodless battle... circles of whales, sharks, and diving birds sharing a school of fish for lunch... baby turtles hauling to the ocean to avoid being eaten by sea fowl (if born during the day, maybe one turtle in a thousand will make it to the ocean). For those of you who are quite accustomed to the pesky sea life of America's eastern shore... the round, almost invisible jellyfish discs, the gulls, etc... it's hard to imagine such large, open waters exist, full thousands of animals, no matter how times we hear that there's more water than land on the globe.

There are so many things we wouldn't see anyway... even if we lived on a boat in the middle of the ocean. The creators of the film sent divers into a coral reef where we meet several little night crawlers. The sounds are amazing- apparently, sound travels faster and clearer in the water, so you can hear every grain of sand under the shuffling feet of starfish, the fins of baby sharks, the bellies of eels. You can also hear the sounds of a disagreement between a crab and one of the sea's most grumpy animals, the mantis shrimp.

(from http://www.eco-divers.com)

This funny looking shrimp is the most ornery thing you'll ever meet. Very territorial, the mantis shrimp likes to keep his lair clean. He'll come out at night to kick out sand and grime, all the while cautiously scanning for intruders. Unfortunately for one curious crab, the mantis shrimp found him...

I can now see how the ocean must influence some of our craziest fairy tales. There are fish in the waters around China that greatly resemble fire breathing dragons... large fish in the frigid waters of the Antarctic that look like unicorns... blob-like fish that look like aliens from Dune... and a certain water snake that Tim Burton must have seen when creating Beetlejuice...

(from http://www.divetrip.com)

One fish I was particularly inspired to see was... well, I think it's called a Sheep's Head Fish. The film described healthy waters, and one great indicator that a body of water is clean is the presence of ancient fish. This fish only gets to look this strange, only grows to be this big, if it survives in the waters for many, many years.

(from http://content.internetvideoarchive.com)

After we have a chance to see these luck charms dedicated to the health of the sea, the film shows us satellite views of the sea so we can look at the lines of pollution spewing from continents. This movie is not all pretty (or weird) fish. Reality sinks in when you see fishing nets catching more than your local grocer's fish sticks' tuna. So many other fish that we have no interest in eating are captured and, too often, needlessly killed. You see a great turtle tangled in the lines of progress... and after seeing how hard it is for turtles to perpetuate their own species, you have to tear up a bit at such a hideous sight.

However, the film won't leave you in that sadness. There is great footage at the end of the film of the brave underwater camera men and women having the patience to become one of the fish so the wildlife is unmoved by their presence. One of the best clips shows a diver pointing a camera at a shark... and the shark couldn't care less. For those of you who have had nightmares of being eaten by sharks, I'd like to think this scene eases the myth that all sharks are hungry for anything smaller than themselves. We obviously missed a lesson or two in school about the true nature of beasts. Yes, shark attacks have happened, but, it seems as though it's not a guarantee that a nearby shark will take you out.

(from http://www.disneydreaming.com)

This film is pure poetry. You are immersed in water without having to hold your breath... you have time to sit on the bottom of the ocean and watch the dramatic play and grace of water creatures. I think there was only one section that dragged a little... when they demonstrate the frightening might of the ocean with waves higher than lighthouses, boats threatening to topple into the murky deep... it's great stuff, but it goes on maybe a minute too long. There are also a number of holes in terms of information... what some fish are called and other details of their lifespan or habits. I'd like to think that this is somewhat intentional to ignite your interest in seeking out more information on your own. To bring it closer to home, once you've been introduced to all these incredible water animals, the film asks us to wonder who in fact we are, now that we know our neighbors and how we challenge their existence.

It's a beautiful film. Go see it. It looks like Disney will be making another nature film for next year's Earth Day- this time about African cats such as lions and cheetahs. This movie will be centered around a mother cat's mission to protect her cubs... not sure if I'll make it through that one without turning into a blubbering mess.

(For more information, visit Disney's movie website: Click Me)