simple cooking and words

“As to what good qualities there may be in our souls, or Who dwells within them, or how precious they are — those are things which we seldom consider and so we trouble little about carefully preserving the soul’s beauty. All our interest is centred in the rough setting of the diamond, and in the outer wall of the castle — that is to say, in these bodies of ours.”
― Teresa of Ávila, Interior Castle

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I’m moving to a slower rhythm, keeping things simple, deciding what can and can’t flow through my life right now. I’m sure, and unsure, being brave and honest with myself. I’m allowing, unresisting to any uncomfortable movements that are arising and just letting them be. I’m giving myself the grace to be with all it entails. This is the only way forward, this is the only way that the new story can be created from here. I must know all of my inner most ingredients, everything that makes me move the way i do. I’m spending much needed time, unraveling, dreaming, grieving, understanding and finding my way back, towards forgiveness and acceptance. I can see all  the answers, i can see how wonderfully great it is going to be, i can see the picture i’m creating and the way it will look, but i know i can’t just arrive there, to this wonderful new place. i know that there’s no skipping ahead, not on this journey im on, not this time. Everything that comes up, needs to be moved through, nothing can be rolled up, or put to the side or saved for later.. for some other time. i have arrived in a place that i wont allow myself to travel back from, i am willing to do or not do, what ever it takes to arrive completely at home with myself, again.IMG_3600 IMG_3602 IMG_3601 IMG_3606IMG_3603

lemon thyme tuna patties

ingredients: 4 potatoes, finely diced spanish onion, tuna, fresh sprigs of thyme, rind of 1 lemon, sea salt, cracked pepper, parsley, 5 slices stale bread, 1 free range egg, olive oil

method: in a food processor, combine bread, parsley pinch of salt and process into fine bread crumbs. Boil the potato’s whole with the skins on until cooked through and soft when pierced though the centre. Allow to cool slightly before peeling and disregarding the skins and mash with potato masher. Combine tuna with a little of the olive oil, onion, lemon rind, thyme, egg, with the potatoes. Stir mix through and season generously. Roll table spoonfuls into patties and coat in the bread crumbs ,  laying in a single layer on a tray and refrigerate for 1/2 an hour. Heat a non stick fry pan with olive oil and cook patties until a golden brown before gently turning to cook the other side. Serve with a  light citrus salad, hot or cold.

circling up

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it circles around again for her now, this time with a simple intention. She has decided with extraordinary conviction she is worth fighting for, and she will fight hard. She knows from where she is standing that this story is complete now. She understands deeply that she has been the creator of her world all along, that the only one who has ever really let her down here, is herself. She knows with great certainty that from where she stands now, that she has been through enough of the not wanting that she is clearly ready now to decide how things will look for her from here. She understands that the beginning of this new story is hers to create, and hers alone. The difference is,  she is unconcerned with the details, or how the things she is wanting now, will come about. She knows that all she need do is decide, and keep herself open to the faithful truth of her instinctual knowing that it will happen. Most importantly she knows now to nurture her own worth, and she won’t ever again need to settle, for anything less than. She has spent enough time there now, from here, she walks only towards her wanting. Now, when she looks, she looks not at how the world around her can bestow upon her, the dreams she envisions, instead  she understands that the real magic  can only ever really begin and come from within. It is here in the stillness, when she quietens herself down long enough to hear her own voice and feel her way towards what she is asking for now, that the magic happens. The rest is only details.

 

a blue house

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This is the spot where i was standing, when i knew, with extraordinary certainty that this is the place we would find ourselves. I knew this from this moment when i took this photograph. For me, there was no need to even look inside, something greater said we would come here, that this blue house on this breathtaking piece of land would one day soon be ours to call home. There was already intimacy here, the plan was already unfolding  before we even walked through the front door.  I couldn’t help but smile.    We can see ourselves here, we can see masses of vegetable gardens, fruit orchards and ducks.  We see free range chickens and our free range children and everything that ever meant anything to us has found its new place here. It’s the kind of place where you would wake up with the morning sun streaming through the windows and smile, to be where you are. It’s the kind of place that the television serves little purpose, and children are free to roam and explore until their hearts are content. We are wanting to come here and slowly unfold this house and in the process hopefully unfold ourselves into something that resembles new ideas and new dreams for ourselves, and everything so far for this idea seems to be falling into place.

 

gone, for now

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spending time with my boy has become a rare occasion now. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere in amongst the chaos i lost hold of him. it might have always been going to head down this path no matter what the circumstances were but i can’t help but think that the more recent moments of uncertainty in our lives played an important part in his decision to no longer live with us. Life for our family has been wonderfully hard over the years with so many dynamics to contend with, toddlers and teenagers, autism and more autism. I can imagine for a thirteen year old boy finding your place in amongst all that is almost impossible. He was lost, i could tell that much, surrounded by  too many females, who all had something to say about his well-being and the directions he was taking. He didn’t have anyone to follow lead from, to really understand the depths of his own wanting and confusion in all of this. Everyone who he was supposed to matter to, was too caught up in being held captive to their own devastation and we failed him terribly. I failed him terribly. He was suffering and i was spread far too thin to keep grip of him. He wanted out, he needed out, so I surrendered and let him go. He is settled now, living with his father and for now it seems it’s what he wants and needs. For the first time in his life, he’s getting to know his dad, really know him, right down to the finer details of how he fits into life with him now. I understand that this is important for him to do, that to understand and know his father better will  in time give him greater understanding for why things played out the way they did. It has been really hard stepping back, to not be the one who is guiding the way and gently maneuvering him back on track when he gets himself a little lost. I am having to detach, not from loving him, but from the responsibly of being the one who is going to show him the way. He, has chosen another for that role, now. As hard as this particular change has been to our tribe, it has unexpectedly  brought with it a space for breathing. A space for me to completely let go of one of the heavy challenges i was carrying. It has allowed for things to slow down, for the constant rhapsody that was flowing between my two sons, to settle.  It has allowed me the room to be more gentle on myself and more importantly more gentle on him. We are moving to a new dance now and it seems to be working better. Spending time together when it happens, is  more earnest now. It takes on a level of importance that it always should have had. It’s possible that this time was always going to present itself at some stage in his life, where he would feel that he needed to go, but it came so much sooner than i was expecting. I am alright with it now, and even at times i am quietly thankful for his decision.

letting go

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i have been living in the same place,  the same house for almost twenty years now. I have been living here all the while dreaming of there. Never moving or changing the scene for fear of it being too hard,  of not wanting to upset delicate routines of children and thinking that staying grounded in the one place is what is best for everyone; even though i have longed for as long as i can remember for different, for new, for something other than here. I envied people who took chances, who moved around, who were always heading somewhere new , some place fresh. Over the years i have been seeking out possibilities of where we may see ourselves, but really nothing ever felt right, not right enough to uplift an entire tribe.  I have found it hard to be inspired having to stay in the one place, my creative flow always searching for something new to draw from, searching out scenes that have become all too familiar now. Yet  this house of ours has served us well. It has housed and nourished five children from babies and provided a safe place for life to unfold. It has been the solid foundation when much in our lives has been volatile over the years. It has sheltered us from many wounds and ever so gently nurtured us back towards ourselves. It has been as much as i dreamt of different, in the end,  our saviour. Something deep within says it’s time now.  Time for letting go of this place we have only ever known as home.  It’s time now for a new beginning in a new house.   Our story within these four walls is inching towards the end, and I am unafraid, and unresisting towards the process, as i know this is exactly the way it is meant to be.  Life is asking us to begin again the intricate journey of unfolding ourselves in some place new. And i am looking forward to the story it entails.

free range kids, free range eggs

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There is nothing simpler and nicer than wandering outside and collecting the eggs to then cook them up immediately  for breakfast. If you have ever had eggs like this you will understand what I’m taking about..

 

ingredients:  sourdough bread , free range fresh eggs, organic butter, organic baby asparagus spears, 1 avocado, juice of a lemon, olive oil, sea salt and cracked pepper,  a couple of free range kids

method: Heat a non stick grill pan on low, put on a small pot of water for the asparagus. With a glass cut holes into the centre of the sourdough, lightly butter on both sides and put aside. Gently snip with fingers the ends off the asparagus and place into the water when it comes to the boil. Blanch for 2-3 minutes, then remove and run under cold water to stop the cooking process. Slice the avocado all the way around and remove the seed. Scoop the flesh out into a bowl and add the juice of half a lemon and season. Mash with a fork and set aside.  Lightly oil the grill pan and turn the heat up to a medium heat  then add the sourdough slices, as many as you can fit onto the pan. While toasting lightly season with salt and cracked pepper. Allow to toast for a minute or so then begin cracking your eggs into the holes of the bread. Allow the bread to cook to a buttery golden brown before flipping over to cook the other side. The second side will take less time than the first. Try not to over cook the eggs. When nicely toasted, take out of the pan and set aside on a board. While the grill pan is still hot add a little more olive oil and add the asparagus, gently sear for a minute,  lightly season with salt. Serve the asparagus spears on the toasts, and add a spoonful of the avocado mixture to the plates.   Give thanks and enjoy!

Why i want a Wife

In August 1970, a woman named Judy Syfers stood before a crowd gathered in San Francisco and read a humorous essay she wrote entitled ” Why I want a Wife”.  The crowd was gathered to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the 19th amendment, giving women the right to vote. In 1971 it was published in an important anthology of feminist works, ‘Notes from the third Year’.

 

I belong to that classification of people known as wives.I am a wife. And, not altogether incidentally, I am a mother.

Not too long ago a male friend of mine appeared on the scene fresh from a recent divorce. He had one child, who is, of course, with his ex-wife. He is looking for another wife. As I thought about him while I was ironing one evening, it suddenly occurred to me that I too, would like to have a wife. Why do I want a wife?

I would like to go back to schools that I can become economically independent, support myself, and, if need be, support those dependent upon me. I want a wife who will work and send me to school. And while I going to school, I want a wife to take care of my children. I want a wife to keep track of the children’s doctor and dentist appointments. And to keep track of mine, too. I want a wife to make sure my children eat properly and are kept clean. I want a wife who will wash the children’s clothes and keep them mended. I want a wife who is a good nurturant attendant to my children, who arranges for their schooling, makes sure they have adequate social life with their peers, takes them to the park, the zoo, etc. I want a wife who takes care of the children when they are sick, arranges to be around when the children need special care, because, of course, I cannot miss classes at school. My wife must arrange to lose time at work and not lose the job. it may mean a small cut in my wife’s income from time to time, but I guess I can tolerate that. Needless to say, my wife will arrange and pay for the care of the children while my wife is working.

I want a wife who will take care of my physical needs. I want a wife who will keep my house clean. A wife who will pick up after my children, a wife who will pick up after me. I want a wife who will keep my clothes clean, ironed,mended,replaced when need be, and who will see to it that my personal things are kept in their proper place so that I can find what I need the minute I need it. I want a wife who cooks the meals, a wife who is a good cook. I want a wife who will plan the menus, do the necessary grocery shopping, prepare the meals, serve them pleasantly, and then do the cleaning up while I do my studying. i want a wife to go along when our family takes vacation so that someone can continue to care for me and my children when I need a rest and change of scene.

I want a wife who will not bother me rambling complaints about a wife’s duties. But I want a wife who will listen to me when I feel the need to explain a rather difficult point I have come across in my course studies. And I want a wife who will type my papers for me when I have written them.

If, by chance, I find another person more suitable as a wife than the wife I already have, I want the liberty to replace my present wife with another one. Naturally, I will expect a fresh, new life; my wife will take the children and be solely responsible for them so that I am left free.

When i am through with school and have a job, i want my wife to quit working and remain at home so that my wife can more fully and completely take care of a wife’s duties.

My God, who wouldn’t want a wife?

when a daughter of my closest friend gave me this piece to read i did so lightheartedly thinking in the beginning how truthfully funny it was.. however the further i read, the humour was lost to how implicitly relevant this piece is to the women of today.  How do we change the story? How do we teach our sons and daughters differently, to expect different and fairer for themselves when all they see are mothers taking care of them, taking care of all that needs to be done for their lives to feel secure and loved as children? How do i show my daughters that their lives are abundantly worth everything and that they need not lose themselves to the children they bear and the husbands they marry, when it is all they have ever witnessed and not by their mother’s choosing? This piece was written in 1970, it could have been written today, i could have written it, for myself.

IMG_2525 IMG_2529 IMG_2527 IMG_2526 IMG_2530again, its been some time since i have been able to really Be here. Life, seems to be keeping me from myself. To have a moment now is rare, so rare that I become bewildered in the space and often lose the moment altogether. It’s not really how i want to be living. It’s not how i saw my life playing out. I’ve done a lot of starting over in my young life, and it seems i am here now starting over again, having to in vision new dreams, new hopes for us. I’m wanting this part to be over, the part where you move from one life to the other. The part where things fall apart, children lose their grounding, teenagers lose themselves even more so in the things that don’t matter, nevertheless matter the world to them. I am wanting the deep-seated sadness  to finish now, to finally leave me free from the thoughts of what my life should have looked like.  I am wanting to see what it looks like from here, i am wanting new spaces and to see myself healed and well and most of all happy.  I’m tired about talking about how tired i am, and become afraid about how long i can keep moving at this pace, taking care of others, too tired at the end of the day to take care of myself. I know change is emanate, i know something is going to have to give. I know the time is near where i am going to have to scoop up my super heroes into my arms and begin to fly again.

 

the journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice—

though the whole house began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

‘Mend my life!’

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

 

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations—

through their melancholy

was terrible.It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

 

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

though the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice,

which you slowly

recognised as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do–determined to save

the only life you could save.

 

-Mary Oliver

the mother, 1949

“there has been an enormous amount of talk about the sacred rights of women, but being a mother is not how women gained the right to vote; the unwed mother is still scorned; it is only in marriage that the mother is glorified- in other words, as long as she is subordinate to the husband. As long as he is the economic head of the family, even though it is she who cares for the children, they depend far more on him than on her. This is why, as has been seen, the mother’s relationship with her children is deeply influenced by the one she maintains with her husband. So conjugal relations, homemaking and motherhood form a whole in which all the parts are determinant; tenderly united to her husband, the wife (mother) can cheerfully carry out the duties of the home; happy with her children, she will be understanding of her husband. But this harmony is not easy to attain, for the different functions assigned to the wife(mother) conflict with each other. Women magazines amply advise the housewife on the art of maintaining her sexual attraction while doing the dishes, of remaining elegant throughout pregnancy, of reconciling flirtation, motherhood and economy; but if she conscientiously follows their advice, she will soon be overwhelmed and disfigured by care; it is very difficult to remain desirable with chapped hands and a body deformed by pregnancies; this is why women in love often feel resentment of the children who ruin her seduction and deprive her of her husbands caresses; if she is, by contrast, deeply maternal, she is jealous of the man who also claims the children as his. But then, the perfect homemaker, as has been seen, contradicts the movement of life: The child is the enemy of waxed floors. Maternal love is often lost  in the reprimands and outbursts that underlie the concern for a well-kept home. It is not surprising that the woman torn between these contradictions often spends her day in a state of nervousness and bitterness; she always loses on some level, and her gains are precarious, they do not count as any sure success. She can never save herself by her work alone; it keeps her occupied, but does not constitute her justification: her justification rests on outside freedoms. The wife (mother) shut up in her home cannot establish her existence on her own; she does not have the means to affirm herself in her singularity: and this singularity is consequently not acknowledged.”

Simone de Beauvoir, the Second Sex 1949

 

 

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Today, I am learning to graciously open my hands and accept what falls before me. I am trying on receiving for a while. this is a new place, a foreign way of being for me. i am having to draw on great courage and humble myself in what is required in order to keep moving forward.  it has compelled me to look more closely, at underlying truths i have held for myself and my very worth. Why the very task of an offering is so tremendously difficult for me to embrace i am yet to really understand. Why i have put others, known and unknown above and before my own needs for my entire life also is yet to be clear,but now; now life has deemed it is necessary to be on the receiving end for a while. I graciously will allow others to embrace the act of giving, for i understand without one there simply is no other. If I’m not able to receive well when i most need it, then i am denying someone else the opportunity to give and if i was to be denied every time i felt compelled to give in some way of myself to someone who needed something, i would most definitely be devastated by the declination. I have no doubt that as life keeps circling, the time will come once again when i will be able to give back what has come forth for me. For now though, from the depths of my heart i say thank you world, from myself and my children.

 

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if i were sitting with you, teaching you how to gain access to your own unconscious companions, I would symbolically take you by the hand and say, “Follow me, because i know how to find them .” I know how they disguise themselves in your psyche and spirit and how they hide themselves in the events of your life.. When I look at someones face, i look beyond that face and into the cellular memory in my heart that says, “Finally you and I have met again. And now we must find out why.” To sense an archetypal thread connecting you to another person is to connect with a soul agreement that has finally manifested in time and space.

-Caroline Myss, Sacred Contracts

Remember if you want to make progress on this path and ascend to the places you have longed for, the important thing is not to think much but to love much and so to do whatever best awakens you to love.

-Mirabai Starr, St Tereasa of Avila

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“we all begin the process before we are ready, before we are strong enough, before we know enough; we begin a dialogue with thoughts and feelings that both tickle and thunder within us. We respond before we know how to speak the language, before we know all the answers, and before we know exactly to whom we are speaking.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves

She asks now not for guarantees or assurances of things to be alright. She asks now not for anything to make sense or even to play out in any particular way. She no longer needs all the right answers or to even really understand why life seems to be so much harder now, even though she’s older. When all she ever really imagined was it getting easier. All she is wanting now, is the courage to simply be still, with it all. If she can accept everything her life is presenting, without the need to change or move anything, if she can truly be alright with the uncertainties and resist the need to give into bitterness or regret or blame of another, then maybe, just maybe, she will be able to move a little closer, sink a little deeper, towards her centre, towards a new truth for herself. Maybe then she will see that all that has ever happened to her in her life, has really happened for her. She will understand that she is the creator of her story, that she has always been the one painting the picture.  And if, she can bring herself to move though this, with love as her centre then maybe life will begin to flow differently for her. Maybe she will finally be able to be, the love she so deserves.