Creamed Potatoes and Peas

Small spontaneous acts of kindness often seem to mean the most. All it takes is quick action on an outrageous idea.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to my stepmother on the phone about my great crop of sugar snap peas. She told me her favorite spring food was creamed potatoes and peas. New red potatoes and freshly shelled garden peas. I'd never had it. I also remembered her often told story of traveling back to the farm in North Dakota, 2 little ones in hand and returning her her truck padded by carefully wrapped new red potatoes. The trunk was so heavy the luggage handler would make comment about the weight asking what was in there. Rocks? She grin back saying "No, potatoes" as the handler went off to get help.

New red potatoes recently started appearing in our local farmers markets. Peas also.
So I had this bright idea to get a flat rate priority mailing box from the post office and fill it with new red potatoes and garden peas. It was kind of risky due to the spoilage factor. I thought about having my sister find the peas locally in Seattle but that would have been hard on her. So I did it. Last week I bought potatoes and the last baggie of garden peas, packed them up and off they went. I enclosed the mother's day card that didn't get sent on time and reminded her of the potatoes in the trunk story she likes to tell.

Monday night my roommate took a very excited call from my step mother who had just eaten creamed potatoes and peas. She was so happy! Saturday night she called again to say she had fried new potatoes. Since she hadn't spoken with my directly earlier in the week, she was calling again. Following a small impulse on my part gave her such joy. And yes, I again heard about the potatoes in the trunk.

After speaking with her I realized I had never had creamed potaotes and peas. So I called back and left a message asking for her recipe. This gave her something to share with me and will give us something meaningful to talk about the next time I call her. I finished up the creamed potatoes and peas last night. I am thinking I have never seen them on a resturant menu. It is one of those delicacies falling by the wayside. But for me, it will become part of my spingtime traditions, in memory of my stepmom. Already, I see paying attention to the little things in life, help my love my life so much.

Testing my Patience

Laying laminate flooring is a test to anyone's patience and ability to cooperate with others. Others who have laid it agree. But laying laminate in my living room is different story entirely. I live in a 110 year old farm house. When we got here we raised the house and had a foundation put around the outside edge and beam supports under the center, (we think). The goal was to level the house. And it did sort of level it. It was no longer a world class skate board arena, nor was it level like an ice arena. With time, the center has sagged and well, we use shims under everything to level things out.

The directions say to start with a clean, level floor. No slopes greater than 1/4 inch per 5 feet. Hah! Where is the challenge in that? I did buy a couple boxes of laminate and put them together in a sloping area to see that they would sage into conformity and it appeared they would. So we went for it. At first, my roommate and I worked alone. The room is 15 x 15. We found we had to piece together 4 planks to snap into the previous row all at once. We started where the floor was reasonably level. After laying 5 rows in 4 hours we decided we really needed a third person to manage the 15' expanse.

Saturday was the day. Travis the strong joined us. We should have taken a video.
We ran a string from one side to the other to see how great the slope was. And then built up the sloping areas with cardboard and foam mats to level it enough to snap the boards together. It is an exercise in absolute coordination and infinite patience. Everyone had to get their section to click into place and stay there. If the planks began to separate or if the seam was gapping in the least you had to wait or start over. Let me say we had 3 rows that went down easily! And 5 rows that took more than 10 tries. We had to work again on Sunday to finish.

When all was said and done, there were only 2 places where cardboard had gotten left under the floor. One I was was able to get out with a 4' mantal yardstick and lots of maneuvering. The other piece is still there causing a mushy spot but a chair sits over the area. Maybe that cardboard will flatten out with time? It looks great now. The laminate did sag to match the floor. We lived to tell the tale.

Did I say we had 4 dogs helping? Did I mention that they perferred to be in the middle of the action? You might wondoer at our sanity about that but one we are dog sitting so she had to be in. Then the others were jealous and aggravated us so asking to be let in that that seemed easier than keeping them out. The new puppy, Rooti, (that doesn't like to be touched) wanted to help. His idea was to peel the duct tape off the floor for us. We used it to help keep the planks aligned when we were snapping them in place. Rooti was so determined at this task that I had to remove all tape Saturday night before going to bed so he wouldn't eat it. We never gave him a chance to eat it but he did chew on it after pulling it up. He's teething. I wasn't taking any chances.

Like I said, the process was an American Home Video moment. We did look around for a camera more than once. Now we have a new floor. It looks great! We did it ourselves. It is another great why for loving my life so much!

Rain, Glorious Rain

I was outside when the first sprinkles began to fall. It has been long since the last rain. The corn was standing with leaves spiked. Even the leaves of my bamboo were curling to conserve moisture. I sat there in the dirt and continued digging weeds for a time while singing little tunes of gratitude to and for the rain. So far this is a gentle rain, just right for softening the soil to receive more. Already everything appears greener and taller as it telescopes skyward to get its share of moiture.

All of creation, including me, seems to be breathng a sigh of opening and gentling. I know I anthropomorphizing here. Nature has its way of simply coping with whatever comes. There are many reports of nature preparing for or fleeing coming diasters but it doesn't seem to ascribe meaning to the comings and goings of weather. A tree doesn't second guess whether it should have called in so much of its reserves to resprout leaves after the frost that killed the initial tender growth. I worry about how the tree will survive with too little water after already being stressed but I have no evidence that it worries about that. I doubt my concern for it is even welcomed.

Nature seems to operate by stimulus and response. No rain? Ok, conserve water, slow growth, reduce surface area to reduce evaporation. It skips the interpretive step of ascribing meaning or determining blame or guilt. Much of my own discomfort comes from the stories I create about what something means or what I may have done to create the current circumstance. Mostly my mental masturbation just delays action and makes me feel worse still.

My friend suggested that the mind is best used for doing math and such pragmatic activities instead of processing feelings. Feelings are dependent on the story. As the story changes, so do my feelings. There is nothing objective about them. I am sure feelings have a place in determining danger or opportunity as in having a gut feeling. They do provide feedback about the nature of the story I am telling myself. I just don't need to play in them like I am in a sandbox building castles unless I am conscious that that is what I am doing so I can quit that activity when I am done and cleanly move onto something else. My suffering comes in when I carry over one story into another completely unrelated activity.

The rain has slowed again. I am headed out to play in the mud, digging crab grass, amending the soil and planting geraniums. Just that, leaving other stories behind. Having that choice is why I love my life so much!

Harvesting my Breakfast

This morning I was out picking dew drenched sugar snap peas. From the vine into my mouth! How yum is that! Well it is a matter of taste I guess. One day I was walking my client past the peas and stopped to pick her a few. Her grandchildren were with her and I offered them each one. They each tried a bite but made a face and spit it out. What a waste of 2 good peas!

Anyway, I have stories about what I didn't used to enjoy. One was beets. Ohhh, yuck!
Every so often mom would clean out and re-organize the canned goods. She would see the beets and exclaim over them and move them to the front of the lineup. Then, when the rest of the family was gone and I was left home alone, I would get down on my hands and knees and move the beets way to the back of the shelf. Out of sight out of mind. It actually worked. I don't know that mom ever caught on. Or she didn't let on to me that she caught on. Now I adore beets, fresh beets that is. Well maybe most all beets. I get them a lot at the farmer's market. I always remember that game mom and I played and smile.

When I first moved to the country I had a great big garden and put up lots of things. With time, it has become easier to buy from the Mennonites down the road and the farmers market. I plant things that I usually can't get like certain varieties of summer and winter squash and yes, sugar snap peas.

My first gladiolus is also coming into bloom today. It will be white in the center with ruffled pink edges. The heat will cause them to bolt so I will pick those and bringthem into the cooler house where I get to enjoy them all the more.

Right now, everything is green and lush. The trees replaced their frost bitten leaves with double or triple the number of leaves. The weather and news people are squalling about the lack of rain. We are 10 inches down from average right now. So people are being redirected into worry about something which we have no control away from the beauty of the moment. Can the "law of expectation" of no rain cause the drought to extend?

Today it is beautiful. I treasure each drop of rain that comes our way. The sun of today, the rain, they all nourish my soul in season. And I love my life all the more for it.

When TV is more compelling than reality

I don't know that this post will ever be posted. It feels private. It feels crazy. I have been watching Startrek: The Next Generation series from the beginning. In the episode I watched tonight, Wesley Crusher the young ensign I watched grow up was visiting from Starfleet academy and he was sullen and irritable. Someone from the tribe of Indians the Enterprise was sent to evacuate bought him to a place to have a Vision Quest of sorts. He had a vision in which his long dead father came to him and told Wesley not to follow him but to set out on his own course. Wesley resigned his commission and became an apprentice to The Traveler, an entity who travels the universe freely.

The people I admire are like the Renaissance people like De Vinci, Tesla, Walter Russel (The Man Who Knew the Secrets of the Universe). People who were masters at many things and could really see outside the box. To that end I am drawn to explore art, music, science. Wesley was trying to live up to what he perceived to be the expectation of others including his mother and captain. His destiny if you will was so much beyond their imaginations. Unfortunately, I do not have the imagination to take me where I want to go.

I look at recent events. My dad's death, the discontinuation of my martial arts training, my inner restlessness. I just had 3 weeks of living alone time I did not make great use of. Well, I guess that depends on my perspective. I rather feel I got caught in an undertow yet again with goals relating to fitness and weight. I replaced my sit still and do nothing time with listening to weight related hypnosis tapes. How I feel about myself and my day depends on what I ate and if I exercised. I am looking to control the longings of my soul by regimenting my physical well being. I am reporting the quantifiable to my master mind team and again lost track of the qualitative.

To be sure, I have stretched myself. I have taken the myofascial release class with horses and learned a lot. To stand next to a great big horse and work with him was a stretch. I have registered for a course in working with fusing and slumping glass. Had my first ever Bamboo sale and will soon be laying a new floor. From some perspectives I am going for it, from others I am barely venturing beyond the 50 yad line when the universe can be my playing field.

Maybe it is a crises of identity or maybe of faith. Maybe I am hitting my head on a self imposed ceiling. It is said that if you take a flea and cover it's container with a transparent barrier, it will learn how high it can jump. When the barrier is removed it will never jump higher. Or the elephant that is chained when it is young and then is bound by a restraint all of its life. Even when it would no longer hold him.

There is some boldness called for now. At the very least to get back to my study of why I love my life so much and sitting still doing nothing. What I thought was structure I needed to support going for it fell short in my execution of it. The means became the ends. Maybe the boldness is going back inside yet again until it bubbles up from within. Clearly I don't "know" the answer. Maybe I don't even know the question.

Choose Ecstasy

My feelings were stirred up by my last post so as I went to bed I played one one my favorite games. I ask a question and ask to gain insight by picking a passage in a book at random. Last night I asked for perspective on my turmoil with my martial arts teacher. My book was Recieving God by Jason Shulman.

The answer was "ecstasy is chosen". Sigh. His explanation is that "ecstacy is the condition that arises when both happiness and unhappiness are seen to have a common origin". He is nudging me away from seeking only light or good times into holding both light and darkness close to my bosom. In that way I add depth to my experience and if the light and dark are integrated, my bubble can't pop. I can't fall into pollyanna-ish thinking. I was willing to entertain this experience through that lens and fell asleep.

Today is the day we usually worked out. Since I did not have an appointment to keep, I did not make an effort to get up and get going. I had used those workouts as the cornerstone of my fitness program. Meeting someone to workout allowed me to assign my responsibility to do for myself to someone else. I just needed to show up. Without that structure.... well... sigh.... responsibility for my fitness falls fully back on me. Quite possibly I am as upset at having to make conscious choices about exercise as I am upset at the lack of communication that I chose to make me feel like a fool and betrayed. This is like holding up a mirror and seeing a massive pimple on the face of my soul. Sigh.

So I am back to the basics. One soul inhabiting one spacesuit body. I choose to keep this spacesuit in optimum fuctioning condition. So here I go into some routine as I keep my eyes open for another growth expanding, physical conditioning structure. Maybe I want to get in shape enough to hike a(short)portion of the Appalacian trail.
Hmmmm, what would be the funnest way to move forward now? Into Ecstacy! Into fitness!Into loving my life, pain and all!

Pain to my Bone Marrow

Grief is a funny thing. Sometimes it strikes clear to my bone marrow. You might thnk I am grieving the loss of my dad, but not this time. I don't even know what to call what I am grieving.

I take private martial arts classes. Our schedule is free flowing and changeable but we keep in touch by phone. A week ago Sunday I was stood up. There was no call to reschedule or explain. This was uncharacteristic of our relationship. I left a couple of messages and got no reply. My assumption was that something awful had happened. I left messages offering assistance or support. I left my phone number in case someone else picked up the call and needed to respond to me. No contact. I even offfered to check in on his animals. No contact.

Finally on Friday I saw a familar vehicle. I went to in see what was going on. I could see he and his partner were fine and commented on such. She looked confused. He muttered something about scheduling difficulties. I wasn't availble to work out that weekend and left saying give me a call.

Somehow I felt betrayed. I felt a fool for worrying and caring. I felt like what I had thought to be a friendship really wasn't. The more I thought on these things, the more I hurt all the way to my bone marrow. I still don't know what happened here. There is no enough information for closure. There has not been another call. What is going on? Why me? Why this? Why now? Resistance is not only futile but painful.

I know enough to know that my response to an event is more important than the event itself. There are various lessons I can take from this but I want to take from this in a way that allows me to keep my heart open and to keep caring. I have grown a lot studying with this person and had many good times. I went way beyond my comfort zone and benefitted. There are other experiences I can persue to continue my growing. He is not my source but an avenue that may or may not open up again. I won't call again. I would go to work out again if he calls me. It is difficult to suspend judgement pending finding more information. It is hard to keep my heart open when it hurts so much.

I am at choice here. Maybe this is an ultimate lesson of flowing. That has been one of my weak points. The only thing that now comes to mind is the children's song:
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.

Time to float along to another great adventure.

Help Keeping my Word to Myself...

I am part of a mastermind team. There are 4 of us who meet by telephone for an hour every week to support each other in attaining goals. I got permission from my team to have a theme, "Why do I love my life so much"? instead of a measurable goal. We take turns reporting what is working for us, what is not, and where we are headed next. The intent is to support, provide a forum for accountability and give feedback.

Yes, it is strange to belong to such a linear group. I joined before I had the flash to focus on a theme. Since I am marching to a different drummer than they are, I cleared my intention. Even with my loose format, I feel pressure of what to report to the team. I have identified activites I want to develop into consistent habits like "sitting still and doing nothing", blogging and living in a way food and exercise wise that maximizes my aliveness. Still, it is tough knowing what to say when I don't feel I did so good.

Knowing I will be speaking with them makes me follow though on my word to myself when keeping my word to myself isn't a strong enough motivation. I'd rather think I keep my word to myself as sacred but I admit I am still more consistent keeping my word to others. If I say I will meet you at a certain time, I will be there. If I say I will exercise at a certain time, I may slither out of my commitment. It is not one of my favorite traits but having observed this in action, I use my word to others to help me keep my word to myself.

Today one of the members didn't really want to share. He ended up going last as if he hadn't done enough. I know the feeling. Every week I have to think about what I have or haven't done or what I have or haven't paid attention to. Sometimes it feels like confession, like what I have done is not enough. He shared his story and had taken significant steps towards his goal and had pushed his personal growth by stretching into unfamiliar territory. But he keeps asking, "Am I really making progress towards my goal"? His goals are business and financial related. He took leaps but they are not yet showing up on his bottom line and so felt bad instead of good.

This is the very reason I wanted a theme instead of a goal. I was using goals to beat myself up instead of feeling good. I am about having experiences that demonstrate why I love my life so much. This last weekend I took a class on using Myofascial Release(MFR) on horses. MFR is my speciality for pain relief and I an excellent at it. I thought this class would further refine my touch with my clients, stretch my comfort zone in relating to animals and open additional avenues for treatment. It did all of these. But most of all it was an experience; me reaching up and working on a GIANT horse named Samson and watching his eyes close halfway, and his mouth drool as he leaned into what I was doing with him. Awesome. What goal does that fulfill? I had an experience! That is enough. even if I do nothing with it, it is enough. I stepped beyond my comfort zone and the horse leaned into me. We blended. It is enough.

In this instance I got immediate and awesome feedback. My colleague who felt he didn't have such a good week may have totally changed another persons life and never even know it. Even if someone came up and told him how moved they were by his sharing and life, he seemed to discount it. His goal does not seem to give him the joy of noticing the feedback along the way that can't be measured. He doesn't see how the bamboo roots are growing along underground and one day they will shoot up with force and majesty. It is part of the mastermind process to help him see that, to cheer his success and encourage him to persist when the results are not evident, yet.

Tonight I was speaking with a different mastermid group that is more loosely structured. They cheer me on. Some members read and enjoy my blog and tell me so! We were speaking about having experiences in search of delight pure and simple. That about sums it up. In the process I find why I love my life so much.