KNEADING JUST RIGHT

 RISE UP! RISE UP!

Tulip woke up this Westcoast winter morning both figuratively and literally. As she slipped out of her Queen sized bed, coveted with flannel sheets, a homemade comforter, and five unique pillows, she sat for a moment, looking out the window at the frost covered coniferous trees and said:

“Today is a perfect day to make bread.”

In a lot of ways making bread is like preparing for friendship. You find a simple recipe using the finest of authentic ingredients, and test it out.  Some recipes work well instantly, others need a bit of help. Then there are those that don’t pass the test. Their ingredients just are not the right mix or quality or quantity, kind of like switching from butter to margarine or from milk to water or from pure chocolate to chocolatey— best to put those straight to the organics bin or shredder for pick-up on Monday morning. Life is too short to settle for less than your worth. In other words, when it isn’t right, it isn’t right. Turn the page and move on.

Harsh? No not really. Why settle for less? We only have one life (bread pan); one oven (body) to produce pride with confidence; two arms with palms to make it happen (knead); lungs to breathe in the good and out the bad (air bubbles in dough);  a spine (yeast) that is so strong it will raise you up to keep you standing tall and proud — and ready to move forward when the time is right. Patience is a virtue, even when making or breaking bread.

Then there is the dough (your soul or heart) that will always need to be gently kneaded, and needed, to keep the spirit rising in the morning and resting at night, much like the workings of yeast in Tulip’s favourite 24 hour bread recipe.

She knows this metaphorical analogy will sound strange to some people as recipes and metaphors are not for everyone. Some people are overly anxious. They are impatient. They don’t want to plan too much or think too much. If they don’t have the right ingredients, they will resort to substitutions. When it comes to making bread, substitutions don’t work. Artificial is a wasted effort.

Tulip has been there and done that! Been flattened. Been burned. Been disillusioned. Almost gave up until one day  an inner voice tuned in and asked : “How many failures does it take to figure it out? The problem isn’t the recipe, it’s the baker!”

At this point Tulip looks under the damp tea towel covering her beautiful ball of risen cheese bread dough. She caresses it fondly, places it carefully into her Dutch oven pan and a preheated oven. She smiles while hearing Josh Groban sing in the background : “You raise me up to all that I can be.” Her confidence assures her of success.

As she takes the finished golden crusted loaf out of the oven and places it on the cooling rack, Tulip raises a glass. She thinks of all of her longtime authentic homemade friendships and delicious loaves of carefully made bread, now only made from the finest of ingredients, and says to herself: “cheers to authenticity and carefully kneading them, and new ones too, oh so very right!” 🥂 🥖 

🌷 Explaining Tulip

🌷 🏹🌷 

🌷 TULIP THE ARCHER 🌷 

Much like an Archer, Tulip set out early in life to assemble her prey, not to hurt them nor to harm them, but to hold them close to her heart and home, much like a beautiful bouquet, well watered, well nurtured, well loved.

She is a warrior, a Sagitarrian, a strong woman of wisdom and inner strength. Her senses are sharp, her focus unwavering, and her resolve is to create happiness, feel happiness and live happiness, alone and with others, until they must part.

The assembled eclectic bouquet is an ensemble of colours, shapes and sizes. Some are suited to be side by side, others not, yet they all respect, honour and appreciate each other. 

The whole ensemble is greater than the sum of its parts because, like ingredients in a pot of Minestrone soup, each part adds something more to the batch. Each brings its own scents, needs, wants, strengths and weaknesses. Each has open days and closed days; bright times and sad times: hopes and hopelessness; doubts and promise. 

Most importantly, they look after themselves and each other; they are strong standing alone and with each other; and, as such, they beautify Tulip’s garden of life for her, for themselves, and for each other.

🏹   “Hail to the Archer! Happy Day of The Archer!”   🏹

Home Away From Home

 

THE POWER OF ARUBA

Each time I return from Aruba, my Island paradise in the southern Caribbean Sea, I think about what draws me back year after year and sometimes a few times a year. 

I asked Siri, one day, to tell me how far Aruba is from my home base in British Columbia Canada. She says she thinks it’s about 6300 kilometers. When she added the words “I think”, I smiled and asked how long it takes to fly there. I expected her to say “does it really matter?”

Turns out the distance and the time doesn’t really matter at all to anyone I know who has gone there more than once. There is a mystic about the place. It’s small, quaint, clean.  It’s a tourist destination for fabulous beaches, purified, fresh drinking water, excellent weather, quality accommodations, attractions, activities of all sorts and local as well as international dining. The government knows that. The businesses know that. The citizens know that. Every effort is made to please and welcome people from around the world. Every effort is made to share the citizens’ pride of the Island and all it has to offer, and every citizen knows how important the tourists are to their economy and future wellbeing.

I started going there about thirty years ago after many efforts by my now deceased parents to get me to join them there for a vacation. I kept saying no, no and no. It seemed so ridiculously far to go and no matter how hard they tried, nobody in the family took them up on their offer. 

But, alas, I finally gave in. I was hooked right away! And, I have been going back every single year, sometimes as many as four times a year. The place has become somewhat like a magnetic force, energizing, uplifting, relaxing. I now just have to go there and it has comfortably become my home away from home. Peaceful. Calming. Beautiful.

Over the years I have befriended some locals who proudly show me very interesting nooks and crannies, or introduce me to activities I’d likely never make time for at my main home base. Now my sister and brother in law have bought in, their adult children have experienced it, and we enjoy being there together at least one visit per year.

The Island is small — maybe 15 km x 8 km, and houses about 100,000 people. It is independent but part of the Dutch Antilles. The official government language is Dutch; but, the official local language is Papiamento and I’ve even taken lessons.

Be it near or far … for me — it’s never far and always near. Whether I am here or there, going there or coming back here, I close my eyes and see it; I reach out my arms and feel it; I breath in the air and smell it; I put my ear to a conch and hear those subtle waves. And, to use the fifth sense of taste metaphorically, as a delicacy, the Island radiates the delicious taste of mystic, magic and memories — pleasant, powerful, peaceful; truly unmatchable and truly my paradise on earth. 

BUILDING PERFECT FRIENDSHIPS

                                                           

 

                                                 Breaking Bread

As this loaf of fresh baked bread

Gently sits,

And I patiently wait,

I think of gratitude.

Gratitude for all we have:

Family, friends, and food;

Health, homes and happy hearts;

And so much more to grow.

I raise a hand upon its dome,

I feel anxious for a slice

But I wait a while, and smile a lot,

The connection is oh so nice.

Warmth and magic resonant

Like the power of Qi

I raise my hand and feel the sign,

It’s now ready to be released!

Inside that risen dome of dough

I feel a subtle, seeping heat

Full of flavours & sustenance 

Self made just can’t be beat!

😨 🤔 🧐 ANSWERING QUESTIONS

😨  🤔 🧐 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Sometimes some questions are hard to answer. 

For example, a month ago I was asked to join a political campaign for the leadership of my chosen Party. The reply was a no brainer, and I was gung-ho excited and ready to start. Three weeks later, the potential candidate checked the polls, finances and the dominating skillset for the job, and decided to step back.

Shortly thereafter, upon my return from a séjours at my home away from home, there were messages on my landline answering machine from other possible leadership candidates inviting me onboard. I’m not feeling as excited and I’m not ready to reply. It’s now become a hard question to answer.

Another question that comes up year after year, especially over the past eight years, is something along the lines of why don’t I buy a place on my paradise Island since I go there so often. I used to always dismiss the question as something some people feel they should put out there. The logistics are a plenty and even too complex to consider. I used to politely respond with an insincere “yah, yah, maybe one day.”

On this last trip I did take some time to seriously reflect on that question, and came to realise that over the years my social circle has expanded beyond the property where I own shares. I have happily connected with locals and stayed in touch with them throughout the year. I like them. I like learning about them and learning from them. I look forward to seeing them and making plans to open up my level of knowledge about the Island, the cultures, history, languages and socio-economic conditions. 

In fact, I realise that I am enjoying thinking about the possibility of renting a centrally located apartment, buying a simple bicycle with a basket and lock, finding neat things, people and places to explore and write about, learning Papiamento, and boldly stepping out of my culinary comfort zone by creating locally sourced meals! I’m only at the “thinking about” stage on responding to that continually asked question!

Another question that some people had was related to getting my stories and poetry published. The question always disappointed me because much of my work has been published and widely distributed free of charge to people in my life. Unfortunately a certain personality drives some people to suggest self-publishing isn’t publishing. I often wanted to reply by asking if they know what an oxymoron is? When I bluntly say their question or suggestion is insulting me personally, some go to great lengths to explain a big difference. Their comments amount to their jealousy and envy, and demeaning me gives them a sense of power. 

So one day when I felt I had time to investigate the big corporate publishing route, I followed the process through with the same amount of effort and determination as other projects, in addition to embracing the efforts of editors, designers and marketing staff. The end result was a beautifully produced glossy cover, professionally bound collection of short stories. I felt proud and excited but no more proud and excited than one of my own creations. 

I went along with the added requirements of creating social media handles, a Facebook page and website.  I did book signings, interviews and talks. Interestingly many people expected free copies, including those who felt the need to push me “to this stage” in my publishing projects. Their question is no longer hard to answer. If anyone else makes such a suggestion, please refer them to this blog! 🙋‍♀️ 😨  🤔 🧐 

CHI AND SUN

 

À new friend invited me to her home on Aruba for the first time recently. I felt honoured and excited as I had only been inside one private residence on the Island before.  On that occasion the first reaction to the outside was “good grief”; upon entering, however, I felt like I had stepped into Indonesia! It was palatial, filled with art pieces, beautiful furniture and big, wide wood and glass, floor to ceiling, doors that opened to a fabulous view of a blue lagoon-like alcove of the Caribbean Sea. It brought new meaning to the expression “first impressions”.

My new friend’s house is a vast compound of three homes, all well upgraded and occupied. She has pumped a lot of love, sweat and dreams into creating a happy, peaceful place in which to live, love and learn, and work, with very comfortable  furniture and furnishings to make one feel very much at home. The place is nearly a century old but from what I can tell, the attentiveness to upkeep and upgrading has given it hope of many more years of shelter for her and her two dogs.

Yes dogs. Two dogs. Chi and Sun.

My family and friends know that dogs tend to cause me a little more than a tad amount of angst. It has something to do with unpredictability and because I don’t believe the brains of animals understand etiquette or behavioral norms! For some reason they use their mouths too much and their mouths scare me. Ask my ankle.

So as I stood on her porch and rang the doorbell, suddenly a roar of rapid barking caught my attention. I froze for a second to try to be brave but then turned to walk back to the gate.

« I’ve got to get past this. I have to get past this. » I said to myself and walked back just as the door opened. I could see the dogs were small and their Master was keeping them away from the door. Good thing to do.

The dogs looked afraid of me and scattered away into the living room. At that point I felt more at ease and talked to them like they were humans saying “I just need a bit of time to get used to you. Come smell my feet and my legs and feel that I am a friend not a foe!”

This approach seemed to work. No more barking. No jumping. No feeling of danger. I made it! I think those dogs like me and I like those dogs. Their eyes were pealed on me and they both turned their heads slightly giving that inquisitive look. It was just so funny and quite fun.

As we humans sat outside on comfortable chairs around a large dining table, in front of an outdoor kitchen, sipping a delicious homemade brew, the dogs continued to show peaceful curiosity around my legs. I decided it would be okay to invite one up on my lap (yes you read that right). I could tell she really wanted to and I could feel it would be completely okay. It was. I even pet her head and back, while continuing my adult conversation with my host. I know few in my life are going to believe this experience happened, as such, except maybe my friends Karen and Klamer. They witnessed something similar in their respective homes.

When it was time to leave, I sat with the dogs as I put my shoes back on in the front hallway. I thanked them for being so well behaved and helpful to my overcoming an inhibition. I feel sure they understood and also feel sure a lot of this success comes from the nature of the Master. There’s a lot to be said about a dog owner who includes the senses or feelings of others when training domestic animals.

This was a delightfully fun personal experience that even found a spot in my dreams that night. No this does not mean I am getting a dog, but it does mean I know I need not paint all dogs with the same brush!

Thank you Chi and Sun Slegers — we are definitely compatible! Next time I will ask for a kiss !

 

Open Minds open Hearts

For my birthday last year my older brother bought me a book. He and I share a gene — we generally don’t like reading; but, every once in a while a book comes out that draws us in.

Murray Sinclair’s book entitled Who We Are is just such a book.

My genuine interest in the indigenous file stems back to my direct personal childhood experience living in a village that included a significant indigenous population. I use that word “include” lightly. They lived there, on the other side of the Canadian Pacific Railway tracks, and only crossed over for provisions in our one grocery store or to attend school if they wanted or  to join in an organized activity in the Community Centre, if permitted. Interactions with the rest of us was rare, selective and often unpleasant — not because of them but because of us. Inclusiveness was not encouraged.

Our British imposed curriculum taught us the British version of historic  truth, and our gullible trusting minds lapped it up. In that statement alone stands the explanation of nearly two centuries of misinformation, stubbornness and guilt, that many continue to spew.

So honourable soft spoken, caring Indigenous leaders like Murray Sinclair, make it their life’s work to turn us back, open our eyes and our minds away from British indoctrination, and focus on helping right a wrong. Baby steps have been made and all hope has not been lost. I feel his optimism and share his optimism and spread his optimism whenever I have a chance.

The book is easy to read. The lines are nearly double spaced making it easier on the eyes of the visually challenged who prefer to read without wearing glasses!

If you need a nudge to shun the stereotypes you have held on to since grade school, this is a good place to start. IT does take a village to right a wrong as huge as this, and each of us has a role to play. 

Open minds create open hearts…we can do this!