Restless

Last month I made my first iMovie as part of an assignment for my Ecological Thought class.  (Watch it here).  The assignment was to "make a visual essay about sense of place", so that's what I did.  It's about rivers, and more specifically my connection to them, particularly the rivers of East Middlebury and Ripton, VT.

Well the other day I was able to sneak over to the new family swimming hole all by my lonesome. (!!!) I managed to wedge myself against a flat rock, and sit, half submerged, letting the water flow over me.  And I did some thinking. (Imagine that!)  And I think I figured it out, a little bit.

I am a person constantly in motion.  If it's not my body, it's my brain (or my mouth, or all three, and not necessarily in a coordinated fashion).  I don't do well sitting still, and listening isn't always active enough for me.  I do better in workshops or activities, rather than lectures.  I can't sit through a movie very often, and maybe the reason I leave so many messes in my wake is so that I have something to putter around and clean up.  And I've recently discovered that I can focus on computer work better if I'm stationed at a 'walking desk' (treadmill with desk platform).  I have way more going on in my life that should be humanly possible (or sane), but I like it that way.  I just can't sit still.

Perhaps this is why meditation has always been so tricky for me- both body AND mind have to be quiet. No way.

But sitting in the river the other day, I Realized Something.  As I sat there with the water flowing over me, I felt at peace.  I could just sit there, and I could almost empty my mind (if it wasn't for thinking about how empty my mind could be!)  It was the water that was moving, but it was enough to make me feel right.  I felt as if I could sit there for hours...well, maybe not that long, but for at least 5 minutes.

Perhaps I should recreate this experiment while floating in a lake.  I think it was the current, but maybe it was the water...

Redux

Well, hello there.  It's been quite some time, I know.  There are now three children, two cats, two dogs, two grandfolks, and seven chickens in our nest, now nestled (ha!) in the Green Mountains.  The times they are a-changin'.  This blog will now be used to begin to spin the threads that emerge, perhaps to be woven into more later.  Or not.  Though I'm on a social media hiatus, I still tend to think in status updates.  Maybe these musings will amount to something more than a simulated social encounter if I pull at them here instead.  Or not. Whatever.

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There is something very feng shui about living at the end of the road.   In meditation, one visualization involves observing the river of your thoughts, and letting them flow by you, rather that hanging on to them. Everyday life out in The World seems a lot like this river to me.  People come and go, here and there.  Purchases are made, conversations happen, plans are made.  It truly is a hustle and bustle.  But here at the end of the road, it's almost as if we are removed from the river of everyday life, retreating to my island. Cars do not approach and then pass my home, on their way to and fro.  When you arrive at the end of the driveway and tumble out of your car (for a car is pretty much the only way to get to the top of this little hill), you are in retreat; parked at the oasis. The river may be flowing, but not here.  Here, we just are.

Wendell Berry talks about the evolution of highways, and how these roads take travelers past a place, not through it.  The paths that folks once traveled through the woods, through the fields, allowed a deep connection to place.  Now we speed across a landscape often without even seeing it. Living at the end of the road, however, gives a sense of having truly arrived.

Insulated by forest, our little slice of nirvana envelopes us.  Here, we are alive, and we live with plants, wild things, creepy crawly critters, dramatic weather.  With each other.

It's kind of funny how you have to remove yourself from "real life" to really feel alive.

Soul Food

I think I've finally figured it out, sort of:  there is food that makes my mouth and mind happy, and there is food that makes my body happy.  Unfortunately, I've yet to discover many foods that exist in both categories.

Over the past few years, I've become increasingly obsessed with food literacy.  The addiction started as I read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and led me to Michael Pollen's The Omnivore's Dilemma (and more recently his In Defense of Food/Food Rules, which happily concluded:  eat food, not too much, mostly plants), then finally, most recently, to Sally Fallon's Nourishing Traditions.  There were others peppered in along the way:  Mollie Katzen and her famous Moosewood cookbooks series, Novella Carpernter's Farm City, and Jessica Prentice's Full Moon Feast.

This pursuit has widened my culinary talents, and hopefully improved my family's health.  These food studies have led me to my local farmers' markets and Whole Paycheck, ahem, I mean Whole Foods.  I've concluded that pure, whole foods are best for me and my family.  Cooking from scratch feeds my soul and body.  So then why do I continue to eat crap and then feel like crap?

Well, I think I've found the answer, in yet another book:  Geneen Roth's Women, Food and God .  This book makes my shortlist of life-altering reads.  It took me a good six months to make it all the way through, because I needed time to, uh, digest it.  I laughed, I cried, I related.  Now, I'm reading it again.  This time I'm completing Oprah's Study Guide as I read.  Yes, that may be dorky, but frankly I'm ok with that.

One thing Roth suggests is to meditate (yet another of my life teachers sending me the same message).  Tune in to your body, to your hunger, to the emotions swirling about inside you.   Sort them out, give them attention, let them be (don't smother them with ice cream).  The book is relatively short (224 pages) but profound, there's a lot going on, a lot to sort out.  Yet it's light and witty.  Like me. (Ha!) 

So anyway, I've been trying to make some small changes.  As Roth says, "it takes great effort to become effortless."  Knowing all that I do about nourishing my body, about what is healthy, I am sometimes perplexed why I continue to eat things that make my body feel so bad (#1 culprit = sugar).  As I've been paying more attention to how I feel (body, mind, mouth) before, during, and after eating, I've come to some realizations.

My mouth and mind like sugar.  A lot.  They become frenzied with the idea of consuming more.  And more.  Even when my body is saying "please please please no more," my mouth says "but it tastes soooo good.  Shut up, just a few more bites."  My mouth and mind also like fatty, rich, heavy foods.   My body, not so much.   I've been experimenting.  The other day I ate a raw food roll up (butternut squash, apricots, walnuts wrapped in collard greens), my mouth was all "ehh, it's ok, not bad", but my body felt euphoric.  The same feeling my mind and mouth get from the peanut butter kiss cookies I made this week.

So what's a girl to do?  Can I please all parts of myself at the same time?  It seems with some further research that there may be hope for that.  But in the meantime, I'm trying to find balance.  Some meals may be for my mind/mouth, others will be for my body.  If I continue to be aware of the messages my body, mouth, and mind are sending me, maybe I will find the true soul foods:  those which meets the needs of my whole self.

Got any suggestions?

Sweet Potato Panini-cakes with Cranberries & Pecans

We have a tradition at my house:  pancakes or waffles on the weekend.  Usually Daddy cooks up a batch of Woody's Buttermilk Pancakes, but sometimes Mommy gets to make breakfast.  Today was one of those days.  We had a leftover baked sweet potato in the fridge that needed to be used, and some beautiful fresh cranberries from the Farmer's Market.  Awhile back, my mom and I discovered that our panini presses make great pancakes- no flipping required.  The pancakes come out evenly cooked, with the ridges of the press baked into them.  And so, I present...

Sweet Potato Panini-cakes with Cranberries & Pecans
1 cooked sweet potato
3 T oil or melted butter
2 eggs, beaten
1 c. milk
2.5 teaspoons baking powder
1 t. salt
1.25 cups whole wheat pastry flour
.25 t nutmeg
1 c. fresh (or frozen) cranberries, coarsely chopped
.5 c. pecans, coarsely chopped

1.  Plug in panini press.
2.  Mash cooked sweet potato in medium bowl, add beaten eggs, milk and oil.  Set aside.
3.  Mix together dry ingredients:  flour, soda, salt, nutmeg.  Pour wet ingredients into flour mixture, stir.
4.  Add cranberries & pecans, stir.
5.  Drop large spoonfuls onto hot panini press, close lid, wait expectantly.
6. Serve with generous helping of REAL maple syrup.  Enjoy.

This is actually a really good way to get your kids to eat vegetables (sweet potatoes for breakfast).  Jack had thirds!  I took some great photos of these lofty pancakes, but my camera battery died, and after an hour of looking for my charger, I decided to post this without photos.  Look for an upcoming post on putting things back where they belong.  Argh!

Edit:  ordered new camera battery charger!

Gouged Through the Heart

Jack has this tendency to cry so hard that sometimes he almost passes out.  Like his lips turn blue and he's not breathing- scary.  He's done it a few times, and of course we consulted our doctor about it.  To rule out anything more serious than a behavioral issue, we were sent to see a pediatric heart specialist.  We went (he's totally fine, by the way, it's apparently behavioral- still terrifying, but nothing to worry about).  We were there for about an hour, had an EKG, echo-cardiogram (heart ultrasound) and a visit with the nurse practitioner.

I just got the bill.

We were charged $2,788.80 for this visit.

Yes, that's right.  Almost $3,000 for a 60 minute outpatient office visit.  The breakdown:  $2,205 for the echo-cardiogram, $69.30 for the EKG, $183.75 for the pulmonary function test, and $330.75 for the office visit.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Ok, sure, the u/s tech needs to be highly specialized and trained to get proper pictures of the heart.  So that can cost the most, but $2,205? And the pulmonary function test?  That was this little sensor that you clip to a toe or finger for about 5 seconds.  Jack wouldn't sit still for it, so my husband actually did the clipping on and holding.  $183.75?!?!

But it gets better.  First, when I called to get some explanation about the charges, I asked who sets the rates for these services.  Apparently it's neither the medical office or the insurance company, but the state! What?  I can only imagine that this is supposedly to insure fairness or to avoid gouging or something, but really?  This is the result?  Then, I looked more closely at the bill.  Our account was credited $1,983 for "payments/adjustments/charity".  That's right.  The hugely inflated costs were then written off, presumably for tax purposes.  Or so I figure...I'm still thinking this through, and I don't really know how all this works.  But I think this is how they get us- precisely because we don't know how it all works.   So now our "real" bill is $805.80.  Insurance took care of $330.75, leaving us responsible for $475.05.  Since, according to my doctor, she rarely sees even a third of what insurance bills us for her time, I'd prefer to just pay the medical office the $475.05 directly and cut out the middlemen. That seems to make much more sense to me, AND keeps our money in our local community.

And they say our healthcare system isn't broken?

Racism- Alive and Well in Your Neighborhood

Lately we white Americans seem to feel pretty self-satisfied with our supposed abolishment of racism- hey, we elected a black president- doesn’t that show that we’re over it?  And while many of the more overt forms of racism have seemed to fade away, there is still a deep undercurrent of inequality flowing beneath us: urban poverty and media stereotypes, just to name a few.  Then, sometimes, we get reminded that blatant racism can still rear its ugly head where we least expect it- in our own neighborhoods.

I was in line to pay for a tank of gas at my corner gas station-convenience store a few months back, when the man in front of me placed a jar of applesauce on the counter.  The clerks rang up his purchase, and a dispute erupted.  The man was apparently being charged tax on this applesauce.  The man became livid, slamming the jar onto the counter and yelling “You ______ing Indians are all thieves!  Every single one of you!  Stealing our money!”  He continued on in this manner for a few more sentences.  Now, I don’t know the law.  I know that in a grocery store there wouldn’t be tax on this kind of item, but I have no idea if the rules are different in a convenience store.  Regardless of the law, however, this slew of racial epithets was unacceptable.

Awhile back I saw a segment on 20/20 called “What Would You Do?”  Maybe you’ve seen it?  On this piece, actors play out ethical dilemmas to see how people react, predicaments such as receiving too much change after purchasing something, witnessing shoplifting, or overhearing racist comments.  The point was to see how the bystanders reacted– would they do the right thing and speak up, or let it go?  As I stood there hearing his tirade, I thought of this.  I considered my options.  Seven months pregnant, I figured I wasn’t going to be threatened physically if I spoke up.  As I stood there debating with myself, I thought of my son:  what kind of world do I want him to live in?  What kind of model should I be?  Then I turned to the man, who was still shouting from the doorway.  With my heart racing, I calmly said “Sir, that was really inappropriate.  That was a racist thing to say, and I’m really offended by it.” 

He continued to spew as he left the store, then as I walked out to my car he muttered that he was sorry he had offended me.  I was glad I had called him out on his comments, but as I drove away all the other things I should have said occurred to me:  that it wasn’t me he should apologize to, that he’s entitled to think whatever he wants but some things should be kept to yourself, and that comments like that hurt our community.  I wonder how, or even if, he thought about that interaction later.

What would you do if you found yourself in a similar situation?  Would you speak your mind?  We don’t need to engage in disputes, but merely hold up a mirror to our neighbors.  We need to hold each to high standards. We should all remember the wise words of Mahatma Ghandi and:  “be the change [we] want to see in the world.” 

Season's Change

Somehow each season seems to know how to be just the perfect length.  Fall's cool fingers plucking me from my air-conditioned refuge.  Winter's first snowflakes drawing me outside to receive their cool kisses on my cheeks.  Spring's optimistic crocuses poking through the mud, eliciting joy at their promise of warmth and sunshine.  And the hot, lazy days of summer, where the cool dampness of deep green shade provides the perfect oasis.  Just when one season seems to have worn out it's welcome, the next comes peeking around the corner. It's such a perfect balance, I don't know how people live where one season runs on ad infinitum.

Today fall officially returns.  In her honor, these are just a few of the reasons I love her:
- the crisp tang of fresh apples
- the hazy, heavy Harvest Moon
- the smell of cold nights & campfires
- the vision of blazing trees
- the crackle & scent of dry leaves
- the feel of socks after a summer of flip flops
- sunlight in places where it wasn't before