Life is Miraculous!

 

This inspirational video brought true tears to my eyes. This man's story exemplifies the power contained within each of us to change and become that which we choose to be. Arthur's transformation is a shining example of the body's immense capacity to heal given time, attention, and care. It a testament to the miracle of life. Congratulations, Arthur, for all that you have accomplished!

Warm Winter Soup

Our friend Nick recently gave my husband two enormous chunks of King Salmon that he caught somewhere on Lake Michigan. Not knowing what else to do with an excess of salmon, I decided that it was high time I experimented with making fish chowder. It was so tasty that I am sharing it here. My recipe is based on http://allrecipes.com/recipe/salmon-chowder/ , but mine is dairy free. I served the chowder with collard greens cooked in an Americraft waterless pot and brown rice. I hope you enjoy it!

Salmon Chowder
Ingredients
1 tsp. olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
2 celery stalks, diced
1 medium-large clove garlic, minced or crushed
4 small potatoes or 2 medium potatoes, chopped into 1/2 inch chunks
2 medium or 1 large carrot, chopped into 1/3 inch pieces
1 cup vegetable broth, low sodium (I used Pacific Natural Foods, Organic)
1 - 1 1/2 cups filtered water
sea salt to taste, approximately 1/4 teaspoon
ground black pepper to taste
1 teaspoon dried dill weed
1 1/2 cups cooked salmon, chunks or 1 16 oz can of salmon
(1 tsp. olive oil and 1 T. lemon juice are needed to cook salmon)
3 T. flour (use rice, sorghum, or buckwheat flour to make it gluten free)
Freshly chopped scallions (optional garnish)

Directions
Heat 1 teaspoon olive oil in 2 inch deep saute pan on medium heat. Saute onion, celery and garlic until onions are tender. Add potatoes and carrots, cook 1-2 minutes, mixing well. Add broth, water, salt, pepper, and dill. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer approximately 15 minutes, or until potatoes and carrots are soft.

If using fresh salmon, rinse thoroughly. Heat 1 tsp. olive oil in saute pan on medium heat. When hot, add salmon, skin down, and cook for approximately 3 minutes. Add water to cover bottom of pan, cover. Cook 10 minutes, add 1 T. lemon juice. When cooked through, remove skin and check for bones; break into chunks and add to broth.

Cook broth with salmon approximately 5 minutes, whisk small amounts of flour into soup to thicken broth. Allow to simmer, covered, another 2-5 minutes. Serve with freshly chopped scallions.

My Summer: redirected.

I am at my childhood home in Pennsylvania for what may be the rest of the summer. My mother broke her hip about a month ago and returned from the rehabilitation center a week ago last Friday. My parents, who live on 30 acres, have 2 horses, a dog and 4 cats, asked me to return home to help them as my mother continues her recovery. What does this mean for me? It means my fledgling plans in Duluth have been put on hold until September: my first summer in Duluth postponed until next summer in Duluth, my craft fair slot forfeited, radio station internship shelved, and Ageless Grace classes un-scheduled. It means I will be living far away from my husband and very attached feline, Haley, for longer than I have every been separated from them before. It means that my summer has been redirected from focusing on myself to focusing on my parents.

I could look at this experience as a burden. I could lament leaving my husband for an extended time and delaying everything I've started in my new home city. Instead, I've chosen to view this redirection as a blessed gift of time: Time to give back to my parents who have done so much for me throughout my life; Time to enjoy sharing their everyday lives without the frenetic excitement and inevitable exhaustion that large family gatherings induce over the holidays; and time to appreciate the gift inherent in shifting my focus from me to those I dearly love for longer than just a phone call.
 
When I return to Duluth in September, the days will be shorter and colder and darker. I will begin again, in a new season, to explore this rich city as Summer marches into Fall and to build relationships as I find my place in the Northwoods as a teacher and artist. Until then, I look forward to unwrapping this blessed and rich gift of time with my parents as I experience my redirected Summer with great gratitude.

Are your possessions "stuff" or "crap"??

Here is a wonderful article worth the few moments it will take to read it: http://www.care2.com/greenliving/clutter-clearing-your-housemates-may-hate-me.html?page=1http://www.care2.com/greenliving/clutter-clearing-your-housemates-may-hate-me.html?page=1 It is all about unloading all of that "stuff" that you have, but no longer use, yet continue to store, stare at, and, occasionally - curse - when you have to clean around it or it falls out of the closet for the millionth seeming time or you realize once more that it is broken - has been for some time - and yet, it is, still, unbelievably, still sitting there taking up much needed space.

A few years ago, my father-in-law and my husband and I were having a conversation about "stuff" vs. "crap." It occurred to me at that moment that "'Crap' is what you call it when it is no longer 'stuff.'" That is, when you no longer have a need for it, that once beloved item turns immediately into "crap." This article, written by Christy Diane Farr on www.care2.com, agrees.

Having moved TWICE in one year, April 2011 and March 2012, my husband and I have become somewhat skilled (still work to do on my part) at parting with, donating, throwing away - eegads! - and regifting, with insight and care (books mostly fall into this category, as my family can tell you). This skill has developed for 2 important reasons: 1) we have moved into smaller spaces than we once occupied, with less storage space and less floor space (Yes, for those who know me, our Charlestown, MA apartment was the smallest place we've inhabited in 8 years of marriage, but the dirty little secret is that we had "stuff" stored at 3 different places in NH to make that happen, including a car! Much thanks to our wonderful and forgiving friends - you know who you are - for helping to make that happen.)

When we moved to MI in April 2011 we collected all those lovely stored items from NH and had to make some hard decisions to fit what we most desired into the moving truck. Fortunately, Charlestown, MA is a wonderful place to put what we had deemed "crap" for FREE and passersby looked at it with glee and as they reached down to pick it up and carry it home it instantaneously turned right back into "stuff." Amazing!

After 6 moves in 9 years of marriage, my husband and I believe strongly in the concept of "circulation." If we are not using X - whatever X may be at the moment - then it is not fulfilling its purpose on Earth and must go out into the world to circulate once more. This philosophy, of course, is a work in progress. I still have a guest room with too many boxes in it for my liking and no home for all those items. This article is inspiring and helpful while I continue to contemplate whether the items in those boxes are still "stuff" or have fermented from non-use into "crap." Who wants to visit so I am forced to decide??

A Curse Turned Blessing: I am walking once more.

I love walking. I love the first breath of outside air after leaving the house. I love feeling the squishy-firm contour of my sneaker's arch where it meets my foot as I take my first steps. I love the excitement of seeing new things: a bird's nest; a new dog; a flower in bloom. I love hearing the thump, thump, thump of my feet against Summer's pavement, the swish, swish as they push through Fall's dried leaves, and the crunch of Winter's crushed snow and ice. I love the rhythmic sensation of arms swaying in alignment with legs; muscles contracting and relaxing with each stride; and thoughts meandering without cause. I love that when no other mode of transportation exists, my feet will lovingly take me where I want and need to go.

Over the past 10 months, no longer surrounded by sirens, buses, and crowded city streets, I discovered the freedom and joy of bike riding. With two wheels and some pedal power, my heart rate soared as I sped down flat, open, small-town streets. I felt as if I was flying as the wind whizzed past my ears, and I returned home with leaden legs and a feeling of freedom and triumph. I love the ability to get on my bike and go - no key to keep track of; no gas tank to fill; no parking space to fit into; just me and my bike. Free. I especially loved the quickness and ease of riding my bike when I started teaching classes across town this Fall. With the car parked 5 miles away at my husband's job, my bike became a necessary mode of transport. In a short 15 minutes I was there, warmed up, and ready to go.

Recently, after my bike lost a very small, very integral part that left it powerless to transport me anywhere I took to walking as my only form of transportation to get me to class. During the past month I have progressed through a range of emotions stemming from that small, missing part that immobilized my bike and stole its speed and convenient transportation from me. At first, "gratitude" bathed my emotional landscape: for my two good feet, warm clothes, and the exercise opportunity walking 27 minutes one way gave me. Next, "annoyed" came to play: with my bike broken, I had to leave the house 15-20 minutes earlier to arrive on time; I arrived late, more than once. Around week 3, "aggravated" appeared because walking an hour to teach a half an hour class seemed ridiculous. "Anger" quickly followed: with no replacement part in sight, my transportation hardship obviously was not important enough to my husband to warrant spending money on an entirely new bike part when only one small piece of the original was missing.

And then, as I was walking home from class one more time, it dawned on me - I was walking. Rhythmically and methodically placing one foot in front of the other I realized that my bike did not break to annoy and frustrate me or to cause marital tension and late arrivals. It broke, blessedly stopped working, exactly when I needed to rediscover the joy of walking. My bike breaking was a blessing, a beautiful blessing. With that mind altering realization I stopped cursing my bike, and my husband, and started walking again for the pure pleasure of it. Full circle, I returned to "gratitude" for the invaluable gift that missing part has given me and I look forward to the day that my bike is mobile, once more.


 

Chocolate Oat Coconut Clusters (Unsweetened and Gluten Free!)

I experiment regularly with creating unsweetened desserts that 1) actually feel like dessert when eaten, and 2) are tasty enough to serve to others. I have created many "desserts" that do not meet these two criteria and result mostly in frustration and disappointment. Fortunately, my husband is a forgiving and hungry sort who enjoys almost anything I bake!

Here, however, is a recipe I created that does meet these two important criteria. After making these twice - to test the recipe - I decided that the reason they work is because only the sweetness is missing - the fat, that is present in any satisfying after-dinner-delight, remains. Feel free to experiment with this recipe and send me your delicious variations.

Chocolate Oat Coconut Clusters, Unsweetened and Gluten Free!
1/2 C. Almond Flour
1/2 C. Gluten Free Quick Oats
1 Tbs. Cocoa Powder, unsweetened (Ghirardelli)
1 tsp. Cinnamon
1/2 tsp. Ground Ginger
pinch sea salt - or to taste
1 Tbs. coconut oil, melted
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 tsp Vanilla
1/8 C. Coconut Milk (So Delicious, Beverage)

Preheat oven to 350 Degrees Fahrenheit and grease a cookie baking sheet with coconut oil, set aside. Measure 1 Tbs. coconut oil into a small glass bowl and warm until melted, set aside. In a small bowl, add first six (dry) ingredients and mix well. Pour 1/8 cup Coconut Milk into a 1 C. liquid measure, add egg, vanilla, and melted coconut oil; mix well. Pour wet ingredients into dry ingredients and mix well. Adjust batter consistency by adding more Coconut Milk. Form batter into tablespoon portions and place on greased baking sheet. Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 15-18 minutes, or until set and bottom is lightly brown. Makes 12 cookies.

Unsweetened me.

I've been playing with sugar recently. Sharing the holidays with friends and loved-ones often spurs the desire to "relax" into sugar. I tell myself, as I reach for the ice cream with spoon in hand, that I deserve a little treat. I know that with just a little "hit" of that sweet goodness my mind will relax, the tension in my jaw will soften, and sharp emotional edges garnered from sharing too small a space with too many loved ones for too long a time will feel less jagged. I tell myself that I deserve a reward for making it through the day with a smile on my face even though inside I flirt with the desire to scream and run.

The spoon slips easily into the creamy, mocha delight. I blanch a bit as the bitter coffee flavor melts on my tongue. I decide to try another taste. An hour later I am chatty and relaxed. Feeling confident as the sweetness sweetens my temperament, I think loving thoughts of loved ones and holiday time, in general. Aaah, I think, the world is just a little bit lighter when sugar is involved. I know now why wine is a staple at the holiday table.

It is foggy and damp here today, with a chill in the air that runs bone-deep. I woke up, remembered my current struggle, and wept. My dalliance with sugar came to an end a week ago. With nothing to buffer the pain I am experiencing, raw emotion washes through my blood. I breathe deeply, I cry solidly, I breathe again. I do not feel confident, or relaxed, or loving. I feel alone and sad and slightly desperate. Sugar, in all its finery, does not dance through my veins. Unsweetened, no false sense of confidence nor chatty ease transfigures my emotional storm. Solidly in my pain, I am fully me.

The fog and rain continue to cloud my outside world. On the inside, I have found some measure of peace. A surprise gift in the mail, a call to a close friend, and a little external pampering in the form of a much needed hair cut allow me to reflect on my tumult with some objectivity. Comparing my recent holiday experience to the storm that raged within this morning, I am grateful for my ability to feel deeply. Free of sugar's hypnotic effect, I acknowledge the deep courage it takes to truly feel my pain and wait . . . while, in time, the storm ebbs and the pain, softened by love this time, not sweets, slowly dissolves.