Who needs Celery?

 

NO CELERY!

One of the realities of living flush with a vibrant tiny forest is from time to time Tulip receives an email cautioning her about bears spotted roaming around her neighbourhood. 

Such a caution is appreciated although it sets her structured sequential mind into a tailspin. Everything on her ‘to do’ list that day required outdoor movement, and much of that movement would not be pleasant if a big, brown, beautifully furred four legged wild animal decided to participate!

So, what to do?

Well as what would happen if driving along a slippery highway requires her to slow down, assess the situation and perhaps follow a detour, rather than put her life at risk of being struck, stuck and lame, she changed gears and put her cozy slippers back on her feet to execute Plan B.

Yes, Plan B. Tulip always has a Plan B. It is kind of like a way to ensure something more is worth doing since life is like a mosaic of endless possibilities. No slouching here.

So on that day, she re-entered her kitchen, opened the fridge door and the freezer door, and pulled out everything necessary to prepare a nice big, steaming hot pot of homemade chicken vegetable soup. It seemed like the perfect project for a cool, grey, rainy day.

With all the provisions set out in front of her, she noticed she did not have any celery.  She started pacing and pacing. She wondered how a soup could possibly be fabulous without celery, and how could she get her hands on some right away.  

Well the first answer was to just text the neighbour. He is a very friendly, accommodating type, and if he had any celery, he would gladly hand over a stalk. 

There is something about Tulip that makes it very hard to ask anyone for help. It is crazy and dumbfounding but, instead of just asking, she chooses to go ahead with making the soup with what she had, and hopes it reaches her quality expectations.

She places her red dutch oven on the big stove burner, adds the accumulation of saved vegetable and chicken stocks. It fills the pan to about 3/4 full. Perfect.  Once the liquid is about to boil, she adds the items that need to cook the most: carrots and asini di pepe. While that is happening, she cuts up the previously frozen cooked chicken, cauliflower, kale, asparagus, and corn; followed by the fresh chives, parsley, cilantro and garlic. She adds a bit of Maggi and some drops of Frank’s Red Hot sauce, salt, pepper and hot paprika. The house smells fabulous, and she again thinks about the missing celery.

“Just let it go; you don’t have to have celery. You don’t have celery! Try something new — challenge the disappointment and prove there is another way.”

She remembers any number of people in her life have said that statement to her over decades. In the earlier days she would rant, swear, curse, shun wild animal warnings and go out and get the damn celery.  Since then, each time this frustration happens she takes a breath, in through the nose and slowly out through the mouth, a few times, to calm the disappointment and to feel okay about trying something new. 

“Who needs celery?”, she asked, to which I replied: “You did, and  simply asking ‘the friendly, always willing to accommodate neighbour’ a question, might well have worked; or not, putting Plan A (with celery) and Plan B (without celery) on equal footing, luckily with, in this case,  equal results.”

“Yes, I’ve dodged another bullet you mean.”

Making soup without celery was a definite huge step forward, in some ways. And, after smelling the aroma of all those wonderful flavours, she knew the soup would be fabulous. It was, but next time if she needs some ‘sugar’, she will reach out and be mentally ready for either reply — at least that is the plan!

Bon appétit!

.

WHEELING THE MEDICINE WHEEL FORWARD

 

Wheeling along the Blooming Path

When I was once invited to observe a Médecine Wheel ceremony under a full moon on the Island of Aruba, I surprised myself and immediately said YES! Sitting outside, surrounded by warm, clean ocean air, around a bunch of people who were equally as keen, seemed intriguing and harmless and, quite frankly, irresistible. It became a most memorable Island experience and one that I would do again.

I know some people in my life reacted with concern and reservations and, as has become my mantra about negativity, jealousy and envious human behaviour, I hold my head high choosing to not be swayed by combatants. The first Medicine Wheel experience enlightened me, enriched me, inspired and intrigued me to the point of wanting to know more about this very ancient form of self help, untoxic medicine.

There is a great deal of metaphorical definition to the design of a wheel. I could probably do a 10,000 word dissertation about that since I love metaphors. As you discover one, you then discover one under that one, and another under that one, and it can go on and on, and take you further ahead in understanding. It’s a skill I learned from trying to conquer the incredibly metaphorical brain set of Canadian author and poet Margaret Atwood! Her writing makes my brain go around and around, but after each spin I feel I move further ahead in understanding. My challenge with her is to not let her defeat me!

Naysayers and people who stick with reservations about anything new or nontraditional or nonmainstream, kind of live a stuck lifestyle. Their wheel has square edges and does not move forward. They are set in their ways and just will not open up their world to thinking outside their box or even opening up their box for some fresh new air — not even a little.

I like fresh air. I definitely like fresh air. Fresh air is blooming medicine.

Let’s start by talking about the word medicine. The word medicine actually means “healing power” or “healing pathway” …the definition has nothing to do with the use of actual drugs to overcome a medical, mental, physical or emotional health deficit. “Medicine” is a  method or pathway to healing. Some methods use drugs and others do not.

No community values and honours a Medicine Wheel more than our indigenous peoples and now that more of our general population has begun to understand and appreciate the indigenous file, more people are opening up to embracing indigenous history, culture, traditions and problem solving methodologies. No example stands out more than the Medicine Wheel — a pathway to healing and a way to better understand life and living.

Sitting quietly around a medicine wheel requires an open mind. It requires a trust between your mind and your thoughts, and a willingness to sense a connection with the magnetism as experienced between the sun, moon, stars and earth. That magnetism impacts humans, plants and animals … we see it in our flora and our fauna, because we know without the power of the sun, moon and stars, we would have no flora nor fauna; but we tend to fear or dismiss any such connection with humanity. The concept is unfamiliar or, for some, unconventional and therefore dismissed as silly, dumb or flicked aside as an annoyance. Box closed.

Box open: the wheel is a full circle — it represents the directional elements of north, south, east, west. The whole of our earth, including humans, is impacted by the behaviour of the sun, moon and stars, with sunrises and sunsets, and diverse weather events, and there is a very real dependence or relationship or connectivity between all four. The circle shape  represents the cycle of life, a full life of breathing from the moment of our birth to the instance of our death, from solstice to solstice, day to night and night to day, evolution and revolution, eclipse to eclipse. 

The circle/wheel also  metaphorically represents the movement of moving forward, taking us further ahead instead of staying in one spot — if we let it; just like how the earth, moon, sun and stars relate to each other, refresh and keep moving. If they stop moving, we stop moving! If their relationships fail, so do ours. 

The whole philosophy behind the medicine wheel is that there is a connectivity between us and them. And, as such, it’s a sacred connected place on Earth, on the earth beneath our feet, carefully and thoughtfully made from earthly matter by humans, for humans to embrace that solar and terrestrial relationship, to express gratitude and appreciation, to restore confidence and optimism, erase uncertainties and anxieties, push away negativity, pull in positivity, commit to helping Mother Nature,  and to better  understand life and living. (Just like how some people do the same in church, temple, synagogue, ashram etc)

Within the healing circle there are subcircles. One depicts four animals that are known to have traits of wisdom, balance, perseverance, healing. (Not all medicine wheels depict the same animals) Basically the role of the participant is to mentally connect with the animal’s strong trait and try to let its power have a positive impact. It’s all very spiritual and personal, and can be very impactful if you let it — allowing it is easy, when you open the box.

The experience, power and teachings of the Medicine Wheel are deeply embedded in community and tradition, symbolism and metaphor. It is definitely an “open the door” secure, cerebral exercise in personal truth, trust and honesty, connectivity and reciprocity — personally enlightening, enriching and powerful;  peaceful, respectful and relaxing. A different way to bloom.

PONDERING POETRY

 

PONDERING POETRY

I came home from a brunch social with friends the other day, to a lovely heartfelt landline phone message from a long time friend, expressing her heartfelt appreciation of a collection of poetry I put together recently. She was the first person to receive a copy and, up to now, the only person. I listened to her message twice, once standing up and the next sitting down. My heart was definitely smiling and eyes watery. Of all people in my life whom I felt would truly read, understand and react honestly, she did not disappoint.

I have always loved creating poems to express feelings, observations and predictions. Sometimes my thoughts are abstract, my ideas peculiar, my dreams over the top but, whatever the reason, my mind loves to select one idea, create a theme, purpose, rhythm and, most often, some kind of rhyme. Not all poems need rhythm or rhyme, but all of them have reason.

Poetry has always been a difficult subject for school teachers to teach and the ones I had tended to keep that Unit to the end of the school year, when time was running out and excitement of school ending was at the forefront of students’ minds. Understandably, today, it is tough to find people of my generation who know how to approach poetry, understand it or appreciate it.

So, a few months ago, I took a big dusty binder off my bookshelf. It was full of plastic sheets in which I had stored hundreds of poems. I reread them and decided it was time to do something more with them; but, not before taking one additional step back — energizing awareness about the power of poetry.

Although the poetry curriculum may have been an after thought for teachers, and dull and boring, complicated and cerebrally stressful for students, 😥, — and difficult for either to place its value in everyday life — we were very young back then and really not ready to approach it with an open mind. We had too many other things on our minds during puberty and relationship building.

As a young adult, I secretly took a liking to things that were generally not popular: French/English bilingualism, Pierre Elliot Trudeau, politics, refinishing wood furniture, liverworst, sardines, Margaret Atwood and creative writing.  

Everyone who knows me knows Canadian author and poet, Margaret Atwood, is a leader in Canadian literature, and her prose and poetry thrive on the unusual in terms of style and content. Many in my circles cast her work aside as too weird and too odd. I label that human reaction as being neurologically stressed, and walking away from a challenge. A cop-out. After all, look at her pedigree now!

Finally in the 21st century, people of all walks of life, all ages, all creeds, are taking note and realizing Margaret is a voice worth noting. More brains are opening up to having challenging cognitive experiences and enjoying thinking beyond simple and obvious, branching out into the more complex and realizing there is more to poetry than just words on paper that sometimes rhyme, sometimes have rhythm, but always have interesting and intriguing messages to ponder and discuss.

I know poetry will never be a best seller, but just the idea of getting more people to give themselves a challenging cerebral exercise, now and then, away from gadgets, devices and media, just seems like good self-help medicine, a good diversion, a good breathe in and breathe out exercise, and a great medium of expression, interpretation and genius!

REDEFINING PRIME

 

Merrily Prime

It was a prime night in Pitt Meadows. 

It all started after I asked Carol if she’d like to enjoy the Prime Rib dinner special at the local golf course dining room Saturday evening. She said yes and I said perhaps some of the other aquafitters would like to join us. 

We asked a few. They were very delighted to be asked and some said yes. We stopped at six because six is a prime (not in math lingo) number for easy table conversation that can include everyone. 

Prime suggestion, prime people, prime rib and, best of all — prime topics of conversation; nobody talked about their adult children, grandchildren or partners. No politics. No religion. No gossip. The focus was travel talk, childhood memories, cultural customs, India, Sri Lanka, Scotland, Aruba, languages and how much we thoroughly enjoyed our gathering.

I generally don’t suggest high end restaurants to casual acquaintances because I don’t know their financial circumstances. But, this time, I boldly went to where I had never been (as in ask and see what happens) — I asked and the people came. 

We six, perhaps arguably a little beyond the prime of our lives, had a purely prime evening of great company, conversation, service and food. We all sound keen to keep this ball rolling, perhaps redefining “prime years” …and that in and of itself is merrily prime!

WALKING ALONG

 

WALKING ON

I went for an autumn walk the other day to take photos of leaves transitioning to release from their shoots and fall to the ground, so the bare branches can rest and prepare for winter, before restarting the process of re-creating growth for the year ahead. It was a glorious sight of shades of yellows, oranges, greens and reds.

This particular morning I decided to wear casual loafers instead of  sneakers. There was no rhyme nor reason— it just felt like time to bring out some different footwear. Turns out the footwear I chose was a pair of black leather loafers that I am sure I have had, and worn every year in Autumn and Winter, for the past forty years.

I can remember buying the shoes at the bargain rack of a store called Naturalisers. Size 8.5 (41 in European sizes) and half off the last marked price! I loved deals then and I still love deals now!

The store was located in a small strip mall in the Municipality of Burnaby, and I would have taken the Willingdon bus there on a Saturday. That Mall, formerly called Brentwood Mall, is still there but nobody from back then would even recognize it now. It’s become a huge monstrosity of cement and steal, angles and curves, with underground parking and high rise towers, spread out over acres of demolished repossessed homes. It’s packed with oddly named stores and almost nothing remains of its beginnings. It’s quite sad to see my memories being overshadowed by change. 

All I have left to remember that Mall are these shoes. They are black leather and despite walking in rain, sun and sleet, year after year,  they continue to comfort my feet, keep them dry and cozy, and remind me that I really did get a deal that has lasted a lifetime, with still more time to prance around.  They have even walked the many streets of Manhattan and The Netherlands, where they actually encountered snow, ice and rain, in both places, and survived.

From the photo you can see my black leather shoes still look great, despite the frayed tips of the laces and a bit of wear around the toes. The designer clearly loved designing quality shoes. I loved finding the bargain and especially love not feeling the need to pass them on or discard them. They have many stories to tell. They are mine for life!

I enjoy remembering and sharing fun stories like this, and at this spot in my timeline, I am sure no new shoe purchase will ever experience such an  honour.

I’m already looking forward to my next walk.

The Power of the Rainbow

                                                              

                                                    The Rainbow Arc

After the thunder and after the storm

Stand quietly and look up —

A beautiful rainbow is often born.

Born of the power of sky Qi (chee)

Linking high drizzle with solar sizzle

Creating an arc of wonder and awe.

It’s a time to sing, a time to dance

A sign to think and take a chance

To reenergize the you in you!

Yes the colours in you need you too

A jolt, a start will energize your heart

And you will feel your rainbow arc.

Antoinetta DeWit

October 2024