Picture This

My plan was to attend a workshop on dirt. Yep, dirt. My aim was to find out how to test the soil in my garden to see if it needed supplementing. Instead I found myself in the third class of a six week series on photography. Here's how it happened. I went into the community center where the dirt class was scheduled. I was a bit late. When I entered the building from the sunny parking lot, my eyes had some trouble adjusting to the dimmed light in the room I entered. So I kept my eyes down and found an empty seat. As my eyes adjusted and I began to look at the slide being projected and began to listen to the speaker, I realized he was definitely not talking about dirt.

He was discussing, not compost but, composition as it relates to photography. I stayed in my seat and hung on every word. And took copious notes. And felt that happy feeling that curls your toes when you realize you have just been given exactly what your heart desires. I'd been hoping to find a good basic photography class. I love taking pictures for this blog. Actually, what I've discovered is that I love taking pictures period. And here I am in a photography class.

But it gets better. The instructor Adam Alonzo mentioned that the next meeting will be a critique class and each person can submit two photographs to be considered for critique. I decided that moment to submit. These are the two photos I sent him along with a request for the handouts from the first two sessions which he promptly sent.

I choose them simply because I like them. I am hopeful at least one will be selected for critique because I want to improve my skills. It's a bit scary, a bit intimidating, and a lot exciting! I keep humming these lyrics from the Rolling Stones, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, well you just might find, you get what you need."

Zenadew

Handstand # 7

Cheat Sheet for Life

 Katrina Kittle is one of my favorite authors. She has four published novels thus far, each one taking a "big" issue and skillfully weaving together a story with vivid characters and poignant subplots that deepens understanding and evokes reflection.  She had me with her first book,  Traveling Light, about a woman, her much-loved dying brother, AIDS, and the question of who we are and why we make the choices we do. Over an eighteen month period, I'd lost a brother-in-law, a teaching partner, and a fellow doctoral student to AIDS. Katrina got it all exactly right: the frustration with the disease, the disheartening lack of compassion juxtaposed with the extreme kindness of others, the pain and heartache, the grief, and the lessons experienced.

Her latest book The Blessings of the Animals is about the end of a marriage, grief, healing, family, and the powerful role animals can play in our lives. Having recently experienced extreme betrayal and divorce... this one hit home too. A dear friend invited me to her book club meeting where Katrina was the guest author while we discussed this book. The facilitator had unique discussion starters. Katrina's books are laden with rich nuggets that inspire mind forays out of the current story. This passage, about an interaction between the protagonist's teacher brother and one of his students, is one of them.


"Nobody gets the good stuff all the time...Remember that." He wished he knew something more comforting to offer. He wished... he could spare them, his students: that he could pass them the cheat sheet for their future lives. 


 The facilitator posed the question, if you could provide a cheat sheet for life, what would you share?

Mine was "Face what you know." I've learned, the hard way, that ignoring the elephant in the room leads to heartache. That while it is difficult to face unpleasant truths, it is better to face them right away as delay increases the cost and wastes precious time. Your body is recording and experiencing the problem even if you are not allowing the thought to surface. I mistakenly thought that focusing on the good meant ignoring the bad. I know now that you can celebrate the good and still name the difficulties and treat them with loving kindness. Problems are not failures, but ignoring them will lead to failure.

Katrina's was, "Always make make new mistakes." As soon as she said it I felt my gut clench. I've been trying to not berate myself for the mistakes I made with my ex, for tolerating too much for too long. For taking care of him and his needs while sacrificing my own. I kept hoping that he would see what he was destroying and join with me to rebuild. And so I became afraid of hope and afraid of making more mistakes that were detrimental to my physical and emotional health and well being. I learned that hope can be life affirming when I hope for myself, for what I can choose. Pinning my hope on someone else is  giving away my strength. Hearing "Always make new mistakes" turned another page. Mistakes are part of life. The trick is to make new mistakes. To be trying new things that may or may not work out perfectly but are still learning experiences. What I was afraid of was making the same mistakes. As I realized that, I felt my gut unclench and my center fill with... hope, peace, possibility. Yep, this definitely goes on my cheat sheet.

The Drinkin' O' the Green

I'm Irish. I have many happy memories of St. Patrick's Day celebrations: Irish step dancing, vibrant Celtic music, shamrock plants, cold beer, Irish soda bread, and always wearing green so as to not get pinched! Post cancer and focusing on caring for my body, I've switched my focus from the "wearin' o' the green" to the "drinkin' o' the green," green tea that is!

I drink about three cups of green tea every day. I prefer either Trader Joe's Organic Green Tea or Tazo Zen tea, a green tea, lemongrass and spearmint mix. I've read that to get the full benefit of the antioxidants in green tea it is necessary to steep the tea for ten minutes. The problem is that in ten minutes the tea is no longer hot. Humph.

Nancy Snyder

The problem was solved for me by my friend and potter Nancy Snyder of 5th St Clayworx. Nancy makes, among other things, beautiful hand thrown mugs with lids. The lid sits on top of the mug while the tea is steeping and keeps in the heat. The lid then makes a handy place to put the bag. The bonus is that this mug is truly beautiful. The shades of brown and touches of green and blue are a visual feast and make the ten minute wait tolerable.

Mug and fitted lid

Gorgeous and functional

Today's breakfast of green tea and Irish Soda bread (recipe below) was good for the soul because I thought of my friend and her passion for her art. All those antioxidants are good for my body. And starting my day with something beautiful sparks my creativity.  Slainte!

Here's an easy recipe for Irish Soda Bread. I used organic sugar, butter, raisins, and milk but couldn't find organic self-rising flour. Next year I'll figure out how to replace the flour as well.

Irish Soda Bread

4 c. self-rising flour
1/2 c. sugar
4 T. butter
8 oz. raisins
2 c. milk

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease and flour two loaf pans.

Mix first three ingredients well. Slowly add in milk. Blend in raisins. Shape into two loaves, place in pans and bake 50-70 minutes until a knife inserted into the loaf comes out clean and the top is beautifully browned. Best served with Irish butter!

In the Middle, I Can't Breathe

I did not intuitively breathe when exercising. Actually, I did the least effective thing possible, I held my breath. It was as if I needed to take in a breath and hold it so I could concentrate on moving. For example, I would hold my breath while climbing stairs. The result? By the time I got to the top of the steps I was lightheaded and completely winded.

When I began to work with a personal trainer, she pointed out the folly of my ways. She taught me to breath in on the relaxation of a movement and to breathe out on the exertion. Weight lifting and exercises like crunches were suddenly so much easier to complete in multiple repetitions.

I cross stitched this sign and hung it in my exercise room to remind me to breathe.

At a recent weekend retreat, the presenter was working with us on using the breath for relaxation. She divided the circle of women in half and indicated that those to the right of her were to inhale while those to the left of her were exhaling. As I was right across from her I quipped, "I'm in the middle, I can't breathe." The next day several women mentioned how true that quip was. They're right. When I was on the fence, trying to decide what to do about my failing marriage and where to go with my life, I often felt I could not breathe. Getting off that fence and on with my life has freed me to take deep, satisfying breaths. Being in the middle is a very uncomfortable place to be. Moving forward is like exercising, breathe out on the relax, breathe in on the exertion, but breathe.

At 60 - Find Your Way

In December 2009, while shopping at a lovely artist's boutique at the DVAC Gallery for Christmas gifts for my creative kindred spirits, I discovered the fused glass jewelry of Diane Zubrick and fell in love with this pendant and bought it for myself. I've since worn it quite often.  I love the idea of having a travel permit, or passport, entitling me to a creative journey. 

Last week my friend, Jewels, noticed it and asked to take a closer look. She handed it back to me casually mentioning how appropriate it is that the  return fare is 60, as in Sensuously Sixty, and the final words are, "Find your way." I never put that together. Here I am, at sixty, finding my way. Perfect.

Bonne Chance Marite!

I have always regretted not speaking more than one language. Last fall I mentioned to a friend that I was planning a trip to Paris and wanted to learn some conversational French. I had borrowed some CD's from the library and was listening to French music, especially Edith Piaf, but was longing to find some conversation partners, somewhere to immerse myself in the language. She knew of a local French Club and gave me the contact information. I called the day of the meeting and had by telephone my first encounter with the human dynamo named Marite!

Marite

She was welcoming and encouraging and insisted I come to the meeting that very day. I felt that deep recognition in my body, that thrill when you know something perfectly wonderful is about to begin. Do you know the feeling I am talking about, when a surge of energy pulses through you?

French Club is exactly what I had been wishing for, a group of lively, funny, bright people who gather weekly to speak all things French. At that first meeting, they very kindly introduced themselves in English so I had some context about each person's life. Then the rapid fire French began! By the end of an hour my head was spinning. Quelle surprise!

Members bring items to share or a story from their life. Sometimes Marite will have a question she poses to each of us or will suggest we question one another. Sometimes folks just have something to share and we talk about that. For instance, we discussed a newspaper article one woman brought to class about bilingual people faring better when struck with Alzheimer's. Or if someone has recently traveled they will share their vacation pictures and experiences. This is great fun! The French skills of the members are varied. Several are fluent, some are easily able to comprehend and to make themselves understood. As a beginner, my comprehension skills have taken a huge leap forward and I am taking tentative steps into speaking.

Marite is the spark for the group. She has razor sharp wit and a joyful take on life that keeps the energy of the session high. As her husband has just retired and they will be traveling frequently, she is handing over the club to another member. Today was our farewell luncheon for her.

The French Club

I know people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. The reason she was in my life was to encourage me to pursue my dream of becoming bilingual. While she was present for barely more than a season, what she began will be with me for a lifetime. Merci et au revoir Marite!

Star Blogger Award

Since 2006 I have been privileged to be a member of the Story Circle Network. Mystery author and memoirist Susan Wittig Albert founded SCN in 1997 as an organization dedicated to helping women share the stories of their lives and to raising public awareness of the importance of women's personal histories. SCN's website, publications, classes, and reading and writing circles connect and encourage women writers world wide. Click here to check out all SCN has to offer. 

I began blogging on November 1, 2010, my sixtieth birthday. I was shy about my efforts. I know some of the finest bloggers on the Internet. I was also insecure about my technology skills. I did not share my blog until January of this year so I am still very much a novice. You can imagine my delight when SCN, an organization of talented creative women, recognized my work with their Star Blogger award. 

There is no need to worry that I will get the "big head" over this. It took me two weeks to figure out how to get the badge, above in today's post and forever on the right side bar, imported onto my site! As is often the case for me, the solution was simple once I knew what it was... ah technology!

I was concerned that blogging would detract from my memoir writing. Not so, blogging is such a pleasure that it gives me added zest and inspiration. It has also led me back to a long dormant interest in photography. 

The most rewarding aspect of blogging is membership in another Internet community to support and encourage my creativity. 

Thanks Story Circle Network for the cyber home, for connecting me with amazing women writers, for inspiration, for encouragement, and for my Star Blogger recognition!

Breathe in Serenity

Valentine's Day can be strange when one is not half of a couple. So many of the advertisements are about giving her the perfect diamond, gold heart, lingerie, or box of chocolates. The implication is that Valentine's Day is for lovers. And I agree. But I have a much expanded notion of love these days. Post betrayal and divorce and post cancer, I find myself a lover of life. And a lover of experiencing life sensuously. My senses are more acute, including my sense of smell. So, I am aware of aromas that enhance my sense of well being.

This Valentine's Day I decided to try my hand at making aromatic mists. My favorite scents are lavender and a combination of eucalyptus and spearmint, so I began with those. This was amazingly easy to do. I purchased four ounce bottles and atomizer sprays on line. I bought the three essential oils and googled scent recipes.

For lavender, I used 20-30 drops per four ounces of distilled water. The number is not exact because I kept losing count of the drops. No matter, I just did test sprays until it smelled good to me. Combining the eucalyptus and spearmint was a bit trickier. I thought the eucalyptus would overpower the mint but the reverse was true. I ended up using about a 2/3 eucalyptus, 1/3 spearmint mix. Again, for each bottle I just mixed and spritzed until my nose approved.

To customize the bottle I created my own labels. I arranged some stones into a heart shape in the snow and then took a dozen or so pictures, playing with shadows and distance. I chose two of the photos, one for each scent. I added the word serenity because I am going to suggest my friends keep them in their cars and spritz when they feeling rushed or stressed... instant serenity.  After printing the photos at the local drugstore kiosk, I trimmed them to label size, used spray adhesive to attach them to the bottle, and voila!

I'm really pleased with the final product. I'm giving them to the people who put love in my life. And I am wishing you a sensuously perfect Valentine's Day!

Spice Shopping

I have a cupboard full of spices.

Interesting organizational system!

From my reading, I now know that spices have a shelf life. When I checked these, I was amazed at how long I had some of them. I got this tin of whole nutmeg from my dear friend Jeanette when she was moving from Ohio to Florida in 1978! I know it was hers because I recognize her handwriting on the top.

1978?

Some sources say that after a year a spice has lost its potency and should be replaced. Those are probably mostly folks who sell spices! The other rule of thumb is to check for aroma. If the spice still smells, well... spicy, it should be usable. But I think that is the technique when using spice to flavor food. I'm not sure how to gage the potency of spice for health and healing purposes. If any of you have any information or thoughts about that, please share.
Most supermarkets have a good selection of the commonly used spices. There are excellent Internet resources as well. Many of my friends recommend Penzeys but I have never tried them. I wanted to buy fresh spice in small quantities because I am experimenting with new flavors and different heats that I may or may not like. And if I am going to err on the side of freshness, small amounts are better.

I found a perfectly wonderful source right here in Dayton. One of the Five Rivers MetroParks' Urban Parks is the Second Street Market. The market operates in an historic block-long 1911 former B&O railroad building.  It was saved from demolition and renovated in 2001and houses an assortment of vendors for prepared foods, meat and produce, fresh flowers, and arts and crafts. One of the shops is The Spice Rack.

The Spice Rack has a wide assortment of spices in small containers with larger amounts readily available. They also sell organic flours and grains, Amish butter and cheeses, beautiful colored sugars, and honey. I'd stopped here many times to buy local honey to help ward off seasonal allergies but am now a confirmed spice shopper as well. 

I was interested in turmeric, cinnamon, cardamom, and cumin. The shop owner, Homer, and his lovely assistant Shannon helped me find everything I needed. This is definitely my new go-to place for spices!

The atmosphere on Saturdays at Second Street Market is festive and relaxed. I had a delicious Thai omelet for lunch, saw many friends and acquaintances, and in addition to my spices got beautiful artisan bread, fresh kale, and a green plant to take home for a promise of spring.


My next task is to purge my spice cupboard and label my spices with date of purchase. In the meantime, because they are so pretty, my fresh spices are residing on a shelf in my kitchen. They are tucked among some plants and some favorite things, reminding me of the beauty of life and the joy of treating my body well.

Spice of Life

 I am interested in spices and how they can promote health and assist healing. Spice as seasoning is familiar ground but currently the health aspect is a talking point everywhere. Magazines, cooking shows, even Dr. Oz is talking about spices to use to reduce your risk of cancer or high blood pressure or to improve cardiac health. Post cancer, I'm eating foods high in antioxidants to ward off those nasty free radicals. I've  upped my vegetable and fruit intake, switched to whole grains, and eat organic whenever possible. I seek out antibiotic and hormone free meat and poultry. Now I am exploring how using the right spices can further enhance health and healing. Which spices for which reasons and in what amount?

Sterling Publishing 2011

This book was featured in a display at my local library. The sub title, How to Use 50 Everyday and Exotic Spices to Boost Health and Beat Disease promised the information I was seeking.
And it delivered. After eleven pages giving the history of spice use and how to purchase and store spices, the next two hundred and forty five pages are devoted to the fifty spices. Information on each spice begins with the healing and health properties, then history and culture in "getting to know ___," then a "how to buy ___," and finishes with "in the kitchen with ____."  Each spice description includes an ink drawing of the plant, a "use and pairs with" chart, and a recipe.
The book concludes with how to make spice rubs and mixes and a resource list. Especially useful is a fifteen page A-Z list of health conditions, appropriate healing spices, and where available, research-tested therapeutic use dosages.
As a bonus, the book is printed on cream colored paper with sepia ink and sepia and green charts that are easy on the eyes. I love it when I find exactly the right book at exactly the right time.
In tomorrow's post, I'll take you with me on a spice buying excursion to one of my favorite foodie places!

Time In a Bottle

I’m very fond of massage. When several different friends recommended a particular massage therapist, I called and made a Saturday morning appointment. A sense of place is very important to me, as is beauty. When I look for a massage therapist, I seek someone who is centered, fully present, and whose studio space is serene with an underlying sense of peace and joy.

When I parked in front of her home and studio, I spotted some very interesting trees.

 These whimsical bottle trees tickled my fancy and provided a visual treat as I stopped to admire the wide assortment of artistic labels. I have a friend with a bottle tree who has removed all the labels and focused on the colors of the bottles to provide the "fruit." As I tend to pick my wine by the art on the label I enjoyed that this one had the labels intact.

Post massage and in a mellow mood, I lingered to look again at the bottles. Maybe they are a bit like women. We start out with people being attracted to us by our label or our reputation but eventually the bottle is opened and what's inside becomes important. The wine is then consumed. Much like life sometimes turns us upside down and empties us out. But the glass, the vessel, remains. Some bottles are simply discarded. But others are recycled, reborn into something new, perhaps differently beautiful, perhaps more enduring.

These metal branches and glass fruit don't seem to take themselves quite as seriously as a fine bottle of wine in a wine rack waiting to be decanted. They are living life in the now, with a wink and a smile.

Here’s a recent wine I chose by the label. I go cycling and this woman, holding on for a ride in the sky on her winged bicycle, looks like she is at home in her body, experiencing life with joyful abandon. If the wine is half as good as the label, I’ll enjoy it!

Cycles Gladiator Syrah California 2008

Lifelong Learning

I think I'm in love. I'm facilitating (they say moderating) a seminar, Let Me Tell You about the Time: An Introduction to Lifewriting at the University of Dayton Lifelong Learning Institute. This is my first time volunteering to moderate a seminar. In the past, I've taught students from preschool age to the doctoral level so I'm comfortable teaching. But this is a teaching situation distinct from all my prior experience.

You must be fifty years of age or older to attend UDLLI. There are no assignments and no grades. People register for seminars based on their interests, period. And, if the seminar is not what they expected, they simply withdraw. Attendance is not mandatory; several folks told me on the very first day which of the six sessions they would miss. I was a bit jealous when I learned these missed classes frequently involved travel, often to warm, sunny places. These are lovely, well-educated, sophisticated men and women. While exceedingly polite, they make it quite clear what they are willing or not willing to do for the class.

At first I worried about this new paradigm. Learning for leaning's sake? Taking a seminar as much for the social interaction as for the topic? Once I relaxed a bit I found this the most refreshing and invigorating atmosphere. My original plan was to have everyone complete at least one life story and then publish an anthology of these stories at the end of the six weeks. Um, no. Some folks wanted their story in a handwritten document. Some wanted it typed but not published. Some wanted to incorporate photos and artifacts. Some wanted to write for their own pleasure and did not particularly care about sharing their writing. But what stories they have to tell! The eight men and six women, ranging in age from fifty-seven to late eighties, are writing about life experiences that keep me captivated each and every Tuesday.

Class thus far has included some strategy tips, some writing prompts, and some time to write followed by sharing. My favorite part of the two hour class is when they read from their work. Each sharing prompts a flood of responses and questions from the group. Their descriptions of the setting and era of the tale combined with the experience they chose to share fold us all into the memory.

Last week they brought photographs and mementoes that related to their story. One gentleman had pictures of himself right after enlistment and right after returning from battle. What a story those pictures told. One class member brought in some 45 rpm records from his collection and explained how you could tell the age of the record from the label design. Plus, oh those songs! Made me want to jump up and dance. One beautiful album with a hand tooled leather cover showed a class member's parents from their wedding through her early years. Another person's photo of himself dressed as Santa with his granddaughter was the spring board for the tale of how he first began to dress as Santa, in a costume made by his wife, and how that lead to years of Santa experiences.

This week, we are going to play with six word memoirs. I introduced the concept last class so folks could think ahead. One of the men immediately composed a five word memoir. A classmate promptly jumped in with the sixth word for a perfect finish and a roar of laughter and approval from us all. I'm looking forward to the next session to hear what else is composed.

I have no idea what the finished class projects will be. Each person's product, if any, will reflect his or her desire. I only know that I have fallen in love with a vibrant group of writers who are taking me to school as to what really matters and I am so grateful!

Second Anniversary

On January 23, 2009 I was diagnosed with Paget's Disease, a rare form of breast cancer. The Story Circle Network has a new blog called One Woman's Day that asks a woman to select a day that holds special meaning for her and write a post about it for that date. I chose January 23rd. I submitted two posts.  That day was so dense with shock and fear that I had written two extensive journal entries and gleaned my posts from those. You can read  A Harbinger and the First Sign  and The Third Sign's the Charm by clicking on the titles.  


The beautiful fiber art below was made by my friend Kate Burch. I keep it in my kitchen where I am reminded daily of the beauty and power of friendship and to take a moment to be thankful for my recovery from breast cancer and to pray for the women facing it today.

Life, Love, Hope

Zen Zentangle Tango

I've had Zentangles on the periphery of my consciousness for a while now. I'd seen some samples and heard a few folks talk about them but was not quite sure what they were. I love Loretta Puncer's Gallery 510 in Dayton's Oregon District and often visit for a visual feast and inspiration. In early January my friend Lori, fellow writer and fiber artist, noticed some Zentangle art for sale and while discussing it with Loretta she mentioned that a Zentangle group meets in her studio once a month for a work session and that there was an introductory class coming up in a few weeks. I signed up with limited information and an open mind.

I confess that if I was on top of my schedule I would have at least googled Zentangle for some prior knowledge. But, I forgot about the class until the day of and had to go cold. This was good! Zentangle is a form of, well, doodling. You can read about the origin here. Many people find it stress-reducing and enter a meditative state while drawing.

Carole Ohl, a certified Zentangle teacher, gave us a little box with all we needed to get started. I love little boxes and containers of all sorts. This one was pristine white cardboard with a pen, a smudge stick, a pencil, and four paper squares. These were not just any pen, pencil and paper. The pen was a Pigma Micron 01 Black. The pencil had soft lead good for smudging and the paper was archival quality. It felt like the first day of elementary school when I always reverently clutched a brand new pencil box, pencil, eraser, and crayons, all ripe with possibility.

Zentangle supply box and an in-process Zentangle

You start by making a dot in each corner of your paper and then connect the dots to make a shape. You can use any kind of lines you want to do this. Then you add a string. This is Zentangle talk for a line that divides your shape into smaller sections. Again, any way you like! Then you begin to fill in the spaces created by the string. There are over a hundred Zentangle designs (tangles) for you to try. And, of course, you can make up your own!

Now, here's the fun part, there is no such thing as a "wrong" Zentangle! There were six of us in this session and using the same prompts and tangles, created six very different finished pieces.

My first Zentangle

Initially, my grip was tight, I was using two much pressure and was over thinking the whole thing. When I relaxed and just played I slipped into a lovely place. Calm. Peaceful. As I finished my first Zentangle,  I shifted into a creative rush and began to think of all the things I wanted to try with these. I was especially enthused about using them within or surrounding letter shapes. I finally got up from my seat and wandered in the gallery for a few minutes to mellow out.

In a one hour session I went from curious, to fascinated, to soothed, to eager, to inspired. Zen to tango to zen again! Engaging my right brain always opens creative thoughts for me and that leads to creative action. I think this will be helpful to my writing practice. It gives me a visually productive way to tap into a sense of well-being, of being at peace within my body. Lovely.

The Berry Bowl

This is one of my favorite Christmas gifts! Peter and Sarah, family who live in New Hampshire, sent it to me. It arrived in a plain brown paper package delivered via Parcel Post a week or so before Christmas. I waited until Christmas morning to open it and was so pleased. After having breast cancer in 2009, I have been making an effort to eat plenty of antioxidants, berries especially. This sweet bowl has holes so I can rinse and drain the berries, then a little dish to rest upon at the table. Pete shared that it was made by a friend of his, Diane Coveny of Forest Pond Studio in New Hampton, NH, a retired educator. I treasure hand crafted items and this one is both useful and beautiful.

Blackberries

My mother always said that presentation matters. Beautifully presented food adds a visual element that enhances taste. I make an effort to give myself antioxidants in the most pleasing way possible. As you can see, I have already served blackberries, blueberries, and Riviera Pears. Riviera Pears are an extra special treat, the juiciest, tastiest pears imaginable. I only have them at Christmas time. The table cloth under the berry dish is the one that usually graces my table. It is hand made Irish lace my mother bought for me on her first of many trips to Ireland. I don't reserve it for "special occasions," just being alive is special enough!

Blueberries with Riviera Pear

I hope you serve yourself healthy, nutritious food in a beautiful way. And one gentle suggestion, take the time to stop and savor every bite, enjoy the pleasure and the blessing.

Mammogram Celebration

Today I had my annual mammogram. Since having breast cancer, mammograms create a degree of anxiety for me. I had Paget's Disease (www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/factsheet/sites-types/paget-breast) , a rare form of cancer that was noticed by my gynecologist and diagnosed by my dermatologist just two months after a normal mammogram. After two surgeries and a series of radiation treatments, I was told to get biannual checkups and a diagnostic mammogram yearly. I saw my oncologist in November and he said all looked well and wrote the scrip for this test. Once you have had cancer, the odds of getting a second cancer are higher than the odds of getting your first. So, even though Paget's Disease is not found by mammogram, something else could be. 

The beauty of a diagnostic mammogram is that the doctor reads the test while you wait. A smiling nurse appeared with the good news, all clear!

When I left the hospital I realized what a beautiful sunny day it was. It was just as sunny when I went in but things seem clearer, brighter, more intense when fear is lifted. I decided to go home, get one of my Yorkies, and head out for a walk on this crisp, cold, beautiful day.

I headed to nearby Englewood Reserve, one of our fabulous Metro Parks (www.metroparks.org/Parks/Englewood/Home.aspx). They do an exemplary job clearing the road through the park, including the bike path that runs along side, so I thought it would be easy to find a place to walk.

Englewood Dam, cars traverse the dam on top to the left

Why the dam was built

When I parked in the lot there were two couples entering a snowy path. When a guy exited the same path a few minutes later, he said the snow was packed but not slippery. Being deep in the woods instead of on a road, even one with limited traffic, was enticing so Buddy and I ventured forth.

Buddy leading the way on the snowy trail

Metro Parks signage, we chose the River Trail

The peace and solitude of the woods was blissful. It was so quiet that the birdcall was crystal clear, calling Buddy to attention. I could identify chickadees, cardinals, and finches. If was so good to be in this place, feeling this way, so alive, so fully present in my body.  I was aware of my breath, my heart beat, the sun on my face, my stride. 

Captivated by birdsong

 When I am not seeing everything about my body that needs to be improved, when I step back from judgments imposed by others, when I can see how healthy and fit I am, I glimpse what it is like to be fully at home, at peace, in my own skin.

Self portrait of one grateful woman

Winter Solstice Meal

The Winter Solstice Sisters

After the Solstice ceremony, the revelry begins! It is a time to embrace the feminine, enjoy good food, celebrate friendships, and share creative endeavors and plans. This year's menu included peach sangria, sparkling waters with fresh fruit, regular and vegetarian chili, spring greens salad with cashews, cranberries, and garlic vinaigrette, country rustic and corn bread, and for dessert, Lori's amazing Italian Cream Cake. The only thing richer than the food was the conversation. The creativity and passion of each women enriched and inspired us all.

  

Lori and her Italian Cream Cake

Turning Toward the Light

Fourteen women, candles, intentions, and sharing from the heart make for a magical solstice. I sent evites to my women friends whom I thought would embrace the celebration of the return of the light. The winter solstice marks the longest night and therefore the shortest day of the year. Each day forward we have a bit more light until the Summer Solstice when the cycle turns and the nights lengthen again. I asked them to wear something white or sparkly. I asked that they think about what they would like to leave in the darkness and what they would like to embrace in the light. My final request was that they select a word that best represents their intentions for 2011.

This is how my guests were welcomed. The wreaths were custom made for me with bay leaves and the fresh, crisp smell was as inviting as the candle lit sidewalk. The heart shape above the wreaths is my garden goddess. She stays out year round, watching over my plants and trees. Three early arriving friends set out and lit the luminaries. The recent snow added to the light and the night birds were stirring.

Candle lit path

Bay leaf wreath

Owls' eye view

We formed a circle, each woman holding a white candle. After passing the flame one to another, the ceremony began. We recognized the day and spoke into the circle the names of three friends who could not be present but were in our hearts. All listened attentively as each spoke what was being left, what was being embraced, and her word choice.

 Each woman's chosen word beautifully reflected her intentions. I provided each with a locust pod as a keepsake on which to write her word with a silver Sharpie. The seed pod represented rebirth and renewal. I then offered to make a second pod for each woman, marked with her word, that I would add onto a wreath and place in my writing room where I would honor and hold her intention with as my own.

Locust Pods

My Chosen Word



I'm looking forward to spending a morning after the holidays assembling this wreath and thinking with love and affection about my Solstice sisters. It feels good to take time to connect with the cycle of nature, to pause and reflect.