sunday grace

everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into
the slow circles of nature...is an instrument of grace.

-may sarton

truer words were never written.  while my life is not normally what one would consider fast-paced, i practice keeping things slow on a pretty regular basis.  patience is my work in this life.  for so many years, i thought that slowing down meant giving up and being lazy and i allowed life to force me to slow down (or smack me down in some cases) through stress, critical setbacks or losses and sometimes being unwell.

i try to be better than that.  and i continue to work on building a life that supports and nurtures time and space and expansiveness and mindfulness.  practicing within these realms allows me to demonstrate patience and grace under other circumstances that are not as pleasant.

some things that help me practice slowing down:

• yoga
• nature
• a safe home that reflects who we are

• paying attention to details of life and the nuances of the human condition
• making art (and making a mess a lot of the time)

• listening
• gardening

• cooking

• recognizing my shenpas
• a giant pink bucket of flowers

• practicing living in the current moment (hour, day, week, month, season, year, life) and not getting too wrapped up in what's to come (this one is tough for me)
• the farmers' market

• going to a real honest-to-goodness local bookshop that is not named barnes and noble and purchasing a real honest-to-goodness book (a book that i can touch and smell and whose paper can soak in a tear or two)
• spending time with all the lives and love and history and mistakes and victories woven into those pages

• allowing room for not always being right and being mindful of when i overgeneralize

this week, a friend from high school became one of the most powerful people in washington.  kevin mccarthy happens to represent the political party whose tactics i, ahem, pretty much despise.  but what i know about him is his kindness and his intelligence and incredible work ethic and that he is one of the most down-to-earth humans you can ever know.  from time to time i've worried about some of his alliances--he's one of the famed "young guns"--and that he mentored kevin spacey while spacey was preparing for his scary-ass machiavellian role in house of cards.  while i'm certain we disagree on many things, i trust that his authenticity and his kindness and his love of people that i witnessed on a regular basis so many years ago was genuine and true and remains to this day.

he offers me hope that my nation is not doomed to a slow death-by-divisiveness.  

that's a giant pink bucket of grace right there.

sunday grace

this week grace showed up in the form of nostalgia.

while on the road, i discovered a small county fair in southwest virginia.  growing up in the farm belly of california, the fair was a huge deal in my childhood and teenage years and i will jump at any chance i get to visit a real county fair.

there is something about the juxtaposition of bright color with dirt paths and twinkling lights with barnyard smell.

the fried green tomatoes were transcendent.

i don't always ride the carousel, but when i do, it's because there is a giant rooster.

ducks!

when i was a little girl my big brother used to rock the car on the ferris wheel, scaring the bejeezus out of me.  i can't ride one to this day but i love to look at them.

love a country girl and her fancy teal shitkickers.

tastes like home.  sounds like home.  feels like home.  grace.

hello poppy

california wildflowers right here in virginia.

gratitude: week four

on the day after thanksgiving, instead of indulging in black friday, we went to yogaville.

the last time we visited, i was in the midst of making the decision whether or not to leave my job and radically change my life.  yogaville provided the space and stillness to give me some clarity on the issue.

i am so very grateful for this open, loving, spiritual place that is quite unexpected in rural virginia.  being here instantly brings the familiar sense of groundedness that i've been blessed enough to experience in other beautiful places.

i am grateful for the sacred spaces i have known.

(photos taken friday at yogaville.)

i am grateful for the pacific ocean.  her name masks her fierceness and power.  i like that.

i am grateful for the tidepools she leaves behind.  she taught me that you can be bold and raw and honest and still create beauty and gentleness.  i am grateful for all those times i held the hand of my daddy while he told me the stories of the magical little sea worlds that exist in each and every tiny pool.

i am grateful for a home that is safe and warm and happy and peaceful.   living here makes me want to be more creative, more joyful, more loving.

i am grateful for my childhood home that i miss often and dream about with a sense of nostalgia and history and love and belonging.

i am grateful for forests and woods and mountains.  and for trails that help me be brave.

i am grateful for the 24"x72" yoga mat that i can roll out anywhere and transform my body, my mind, my spirit, my day, my life.

i am grateful for the places i have not yet been and who whisper to me that there is something for me to learn there.

my most favorite completely accidental self-portrait ever:  protection, wisdom, guidance, beginnings (all these ganesh gifts)...are within.

i am grateful for the practice of choosing which space to inhabit (i.e. yogaville over target) on any given day.  i am grateful for having those options.

i am grateful for learning (still learning, still practicing) that any space (even target) can be peaceful and transformed by awareness and appreciation of its unique beauty and stories.

sometimes i get homesick

and i just discovered the best cure shy of hopping on a plane:  i can go for a bike ride on the streets of my hometown.  just like when i was a kid.

click on the link to take a ride.

tiny memoir: my good soul

in my twenties, i was a single mom struggling to make a decent life in a little house in a not-so-great neighborhood bordered by the city of bakersfield, california to the north and acres of farmland to the south.  i didn't have a lot of money and had no car for several years. 

on sunday afternoons, i put mia in her stroller with the wonky wheel and we walked on a little stretch of highway 58 to a funky makeshift cafe in a converted liquor store next to a 7-11.  it was run by a beautiful woman from bangladesh who had moved to california and joined the pentecostal church.  during the week, she served typical american food.  but on sundays, she made the most amazing hot and spicy chicken soup for two dollars a bowl.  i can still remember her standing at the stove with her thick black hair in one solid braid that reached past her hips, dressed in a long flowery prairie dress, singing hymns in bengali. 

i can't remember the bengali name for the soup.  she translated it for me once, writing out "my good soul" on a napkin.  i think she was trying to write "my good soup" but her english was shaky.  she placed her hand on her heart when i spoke the name out loud. 

indeed, this is where the soup worked its magic.  after each delicious spoonful, the warmth would slowly bloom around our hearts.  i had no health insurance at the time and i swear this soup, with its garlic and ginger and spinach and chili peppers, saved us.  in those days, neither one of us ever experienced illness that required medical care.

the last time i went home to bakersfied (seven years ago now), i drove out highway 58 toward pumpkin center to find the cafe torn down; replaced by a car lot.   i couldn't remember the name of the cafe.  actually, i don't think it had a name. 

for years i've tried to recreate the soup.  it has taken much trial and error.  for the longest time, i thought the little black seeds in the soup were poppy seeds.  i recently discovered they are nigella sativa seeds.  i've come pretty close to matching the taste and the healing effect.  the soup is a lovely mix of south asian magic and american practicality.  just like its original creator. 

my good soul makes you feel instantly better when you are unwell or off kilter in your body or spirit.  i try and use only organic ingredients.  you can probably use mushrooms and vegetable broth in lieu of the chicken to make it vegan.  this makes a nice big pot.

my good soul
three chicken breasts, poached and shredded
olive oil
nigella sativa seeds, about one tbsp.
mustard seeds, one tsp.
one onion, chopped
two celery stalks, chopped
two carrots, chopped
one head garlic, chopped (about twelve cloves)
two tbsp. chili pepper paste in the tube
two tbsp. ginger paste in the tube
chicken broth
two cans great northern beans, rinsed
baby spinach leaves
pumpkin seeds

use bone-in chicken breast with skin for the best taste.  poach the chicken by simmering it in just enough water to cover, salt, pepper, chili flakes, rosemary and a bay leaf for about thirty minutes.  set aside to cool before shredding the meat.  reserve the cooking liquid; it's about three cups.

cover the bottom of a large pot with olive oil and heat until a seed dropped in pops.  add the seeds and cook for about thirty seconds.  reduce heat to medium high and add onion, celery and carrots.  cook for about five minutes, until tender.  add the garlic and cook a few minutes.  add the chili and ginger pastes and stir well. 

add about one-half cup of your poaching liquid and deglaze the pan.  add the beans and your shredded chicken.  add the rest of your poaching liquid and extra broth (or water) if you need it to fill the pot to two inches below the brim.  bring to a boil.  reduce to low, cover and simmer for twenty minutes.

add the spinach and stir in to wilt.

garnish with pumpkin seeds.

eat. 

feel better.

*

p.s.  it's difficult for me to get my recipes exact because i play when i cook.  i encourage you to do the same.  use all six of your senses when you make a meal.  i use a le creuset pot, which gets pretty hot, so you may need to leave some wiggle room for cooking times.   adjust the heat to your taste, this recipe is quite spicy.  the nigella sativa seeds are pretty important here.  if you live in a large city, you can probably find them at an indian food store or maybe whole foods.  i ordered mine online, so if you're local to me and want to make the soup, i've got close to a lifetime supply and i'm happy to share.

{aqua}

the sea faded by afternoon sun. 

turquoise stones sold roadside by an ancient yokut.  

blue skies tinted green from exhaust or old film. 

the tile mosaic in the mission fountain.

a girl's hair on melrose.

from the airplane, the backyard pools look like teal polkadots.

the color of california. 

the color of home.

grateful for bella's 52 photos project.

in search of equanimity

i'm stalled at a place of transition between vacation and real life.  each time i journey home to california, it becomes more difficult to reintegrate into the life i have here in virginia.  i've been thinking about this for the last few days.  it's not that i truly want to move back to california, there are just so many things that california represents for me that are mostly absent (or hidden) here.  things like openmindedness, diversity, wholeness, health, adventure, limitlessness, truth.  while i appreciate the gentleness of the south, the overall culture wears on me and i walk through each day with the awareness of how different and separate i am.  it can get lonely.  it felt good to walk with californians for a few days. 

somehow i have to find a way to blend who i am as a native californian with the brighter characteristics of this small southern town.  strength with grace.  expansiveness with comfort.  truth with kindness.  equanimity.

mosaic monday

let's go to the fair!

I grew up in an agriculture town so the county fair was a big big deal. I haven't found an east coast fair yet that has the same dustyfunk mojo and I'm tempted every september to hop a plane just to experience my hometown extravaganza of rides, games, food (not many other fairs have basque roasted lamb sandwiches on the best sourdough bread known to man) and animals.

nonetheless, any fair sparks the nostalgia for me with their unique mixes of color, sounds, smells and the ubiquitous racing pigs. come on along. and please don't rock the ferris wheel bucket.

{see happy flickr fairgoers here.}

golden state

I am not homesick today. I am living in my own little golden state on my little lane in the burbs in this little city just east of the blue ridge. the trees are simply magnificent. the autumn sun radiates through the leaves and turns the air gold.

gold air. who would ever have dreamed such a thing?

homesick

for taco trucks, smith's smiley face cookies, cali friends, the crunch of leaves under my feet at jastro park, instant access to the everyday locations of my own history...

*sigh*

just like home

in the heat of childhood summers in california's scorching san joaquin valley, us kids didn't listen for the broken song of the ice cream truck; we kept our ears perked for the la rosa man. the mexican man pushed his little refrigerator cart down the street, bells dangling off the handles. it was chock-full of frozen goodness: fruit and sugar (lots of sugar) on a stick was yours for a dollar. watermelon and tamarind were my favorites. since I've moved away, it's one of the things I miss the most.

at lunch today at the peruvian cafe, I noticed a new case by the door. peering in the glass top, I immediately recognized the colorful bars. even with a different name (la princessa), I knew they were the same. a little piece of home.

I ♥ the fair

growing up in california's agriculture-focused san joaquin valley, county fairs were a regular part of life. since I've moved away, I've visited a few local and state fairs. sadly, none compare to the great kern county fair. but I still go every summer or fall (depending on the fair). last night, we visited the albemarle county fair. it was low-key and sweet.

I like seeing the animals, who made the best pie and grew the biggest cucumber. there is something very nostalgic about the fair. the sounds of kids screaming on the rides, carnies hawking their games and the farm animal sound mix coming from the 4H tent send me back to a childhood of carefree fun.

just like home

those who know me understand that I'm prone to fits of homesickness. I am, at heart, a california girl. I miss big things about the state (ideas, expansion, creativity, inclusion) and I miss little things that made my home in california...well, californian: flowers year-round, sun streaming in windows, grilling and eating outdoors every night, the hum of automatic sprinklers, the scent of night-bloomers mixed with a hint of chlorine from the pool. I often feel like a big freaky fish out of water in traditional, upright virginia.

I do my best to recreate certain california experiences to soothe my soul (risking certain social shunning when I declared that I was making tamales for christmas dinner instead of virginia ham!). I have not had the best luck in my garden. virginia climate is lovely, but california it is not. I have planted agapanthas and gardenias only to watch them die a slow, brutal death under the old virginia trees.

jasmine is the exception. several years ago, I tried it out in the yard with no luck. last year, we built an arbor over the back door and I tried the jasmine again. it sputtered and stalled through last summer, but hung on. I was certain winter snow and ice would do it in. but it didn't! this year, the beautiful vine has reached and bloomed up the posts, over the arbor and is even reaching on to the adjacent arbor over the patio, mingling with the fairy lights.

last night, after a tiring day at work, I walked out back and was enveloped by the powerful, heady scent of my darling vines. the scent of home. I turned and saw that they were making their way up the back of the house, arms outstretched, reaching to give my virginia home a big california embrace.

bake town

today's forecast for my hometown is 104 degrees. yes, today is may 17th. now, you bakersfield natives are pretty heat-hardy folk as the temp consistently tops 100 every day in the summer. but this is crazy and I don't envy you (and I won't make it worse by posting that I'm enjoying a perfect spring day of 75 and sunny...oh, I just did). anyway, in an effort to make you feel better, here are some things you have to enjoy today that are truly missed by this homesick ex-pat. don't take them for granted:

1. smiley-face cookies from smiths bakery
2. black & white at the original dewar's
3. biscuits & gravy at zingos (I sense a food theme here)
4. guthrie's alley cat (there, have some cocktails)
5. mexican food (any will do, trust me, you have no idea what bad mexican food is until you move away from california; um, food again)
6. shopping for vintage clothes downtown
7. everyone has a pool! well, everyone knows someone who has a pool.
8. the set-up at woolgrowers (I dream about pyrenees bread dipped in that soup!)
9. night swimming
10. is wildflower time over? if not, take a drive up the canyon
11. watermelon la rosa bars
12. walking down oleander on the uneven sidewalks

hopefully by monday the temps will be normal and you can hit the bike trail to work off all that fabulous food.