There is a prominent political ideology in this country influenced by Darwinian ideas, that if one person helps another, it actually does them a disservice, as it merely perpetuates their weakness. It enables the weak and incapable to remain unproductive as they continue to leech from the rest. Rather, for their own sake and for society’s benefit, they must be left in the struggle or they will never grow and develop to provide for themselves. Then, there is what I was taught in church when I was a child. Jesus washed the feet of the meek, clothed the naked, and fed the hungry. He was a great teacher of not only charity, but also compassion. And like the other teachers of compassion, Buddha, Gandhi, the Dalai Lama, there is the teaching of opening one’s heart and comprehending the inherent oneness of human beings trapped in an illusion of separateness from one another and all things. To overcome such an inauthentic view, we are taught to love one another, have compassion, forgiveness, and to open up our hearts. As such enlightened beings, we are God, and there is no division, no fear, only unity everywhere. In such mode of being, the right thing to do was help this poor man out.

But ugh, to give out spare change! I really many happen to think that I need it myself. That I have my own bills to pay, and etc. and etc. But the sign that I saw that day, the sign that the old man sitting against the traffic-light pole was holding, did not say, need change, anything helps, need 50 cents (such an insignificant amount there’s not even a cent symbol key on my computer), Jesus saves, need beer, or whatever. It said, HUNGRY.

I’ve heard these people can make a reasonable dime on the streets panhandling like this. People do help the poor. But should I? Before, pretty much everyone went to church and the church passed out the collection plate, and the community shelled out to the church, for charity, and to provide for the church’s coffers. In a more and more atheist society, pan-handling seems like a surrogate for the collection plate, or an accompaniment thereto. Then there are the poor, penniless mystics who wander the cities and villages in other parts of the world; a whole priestly class who eat whatever sustenance is placed in their collection bowls, dedicated to a life of poverty and spiritual focus. Indeed, the Franciscan monks upheld the modest lifestyle and service to the poor as the true lifestyle of Jesus. However, in the 12th century when the church was trying to establish the official line of the church in such matters, the Dominicans felt that converting others to Christianity was more important than the ideal of poverty, and pope’s final word on that subject was that although poverty was Jesus-like and cool in theory, it was not necessary to practice. (Gordon Leff, Paris and Oxford Universities in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries. Huntington, NY: Robert E. Krieger Publishing CO., Inc, 1975.) Interestingly, now, this American culture finds poverty repugnant. Now, should I help this person?

Another way to look at this beggar is that he is an enlightened being. Maybe he is Jesus, or Buddha. And his sign said that he was hungry. I was about to give some change, but found that I did not have any lying around my car. I did, however, just discover that I had a bag of tomatoes in my grocery bag with the pork tenderloin I was making for dinner, with the milk and eggs and such. One had been a little crushed. I noticed that it even had a tiny little bit of mold on it. Hey, better this than nothing, eh? I was about to cut off the bad part but the arrow turned green at the stoplight. So I just held up the beautiful red, otherwise perfectly healthy tomato, and saw the man’s eyes light up as he sprung into action dodging cars and traffic. His eyes looked at me gratefully from over his tan, crow-footed cheeks. And I felt good. Sort of. If this guy was Jesus, I should have given him the best tomato I had. What kind of energy work would that have been. It might have made that man just a little healthier, so that he could help himself.

I concluded that this guy just needed a friggin’ tomato. Why would you not give the guy who says he’s hungry something to eat? Because you don’t know him? Because he’s not your blood brother? He doesn’t deserve it? So either you are strong, capable, lucky and deserving; or weak, ineffective, unlucky, and deserve to die (unless you figure out a way to help yourself)? Sure, people do things that causes them to be ostracized from the community, and left to go fend for themselves. But these days the land is all bought up and we live in cities, so there is no just going off and living off the land and trying to make it on your own. Here, all that’s left is jail, or the street. So people on the street try to survive the best they can. Maybe some chick rolling up to the stoplight will give the bum a quarter, a sub-par tomato; maybe she will slip him or her a 100 dollar bill, or a cigarette, or better. Or he or she could just get a job. There’s always a job to be had, right?

Maybe it was this man’s job to demonstrate that we have a choice– a choice in how we live; a choice in whether we choose to give; a choice in the way we see the world. Maybe it was his job to exemplify the stark differences between us and another, and to show us how good it feels to help a brother out anyway. Maybe it was just his job to teach us compassion in an otherwise hostile and conflicted world. And for this, I grateful.

Pictured here is apricot pie with apple.  For the crust I used about a 1 1/4 cups almond meal, an egg, a pinch of salt, 1 tbs. room-temperature butter, 1 tsp. agave nectar.  I used only about a cup of almond flour at first, then as I rolled it out between two sheets of wax paper, and found that for the size of the pie pan, it was too small and thin.  So I sprinkled another 1/4 or so flour evenly on top, and rolled it all together.  It turned out to be just the right size and thickness. Transfer into a buttered pie pan, the extra almondy side down, and bake at 350, until the crust is just beginning to firm and get a faint glow of color.  Add the filling, and bake covered with a sheet of aluminum foil (almond flour burns easily) for about 30 minutes.  After this time, the pie filling was still very loose, so I turned off the oven and let the pie cool in the cooling oven.  After cooling, the texture turned out perfect.

I found that adding the extra almond meal to the rolled dough was a great technique that I may do on purpose next time, as I have had trouble with almond pie crust gluing itself against the glass.  This pie crust turned out perfect.

Serve with vanilla conventional or coconut milk ice cream.  Delicious.

We must surely go the way of the waters, which always tend downward, if we would raise up the treasure, the precious inheritance of the father. In the Gnostic hymn to the soul, the son is sent forth by his parents to seek the pearl that fell from the King’s crown. It lies at the bottom of a deep well, guarded by a dragon, in the land of the Egyptians– that land of fleshpots and drunkenness with all its material and spiritual riches. The son and heir sets out to fetch the jewel, but forgets himself and his task in the orgies of Egyptian worldliness, until a letter from his father reminds him what his duty is. He then sets out for the water and plunges into the dark depths of the well, where he finds the pearl on the bottom, and in the end offers it to the highest divinity.

This hymn, ascribed to Bardesanes, dates from an age that resembled ours in more than one respect. Mankind looked and waited, and it was a fish– “levatus de profundo” (drawn from the deep) — that became the symbol of the saviour, the bringer of healing.

Art by Gaia

The Wild Woman
Is the One Who Knows.
She is the River beneath the river,
She is instinctual Nature
Dispenser of Medicine
Guardianne of Wisdom.
She is from Whom we spring forward in Life
and to whom we go in Death.
She is the Great Wild Mother.
Her kingdom is this great underground forest,
the misty world of the unconscious;
into which the light of consciousness filters down through stories, feelings, and dreams.

My feeling function and my thinking function are embattled in my psyche. This I have become conscious of in the last few weeks, as I have been reading “The Essential Jung.”

So this Sunday morning, I woke up at a reasonable time, and instead of getting up, I decided to sleep in a little more, it being my one day off. Knowing I dream vividly during the later morning, I asked that I have a dream in which I access some good positive father energy, in my attempts to empower my logos, my thinking function.

The dream that came to me was of a family sing-along. I was with my husband’s family. I was perched at the edge of a fountain. Chris’s sister was doing some kitchen gymnastics, putting her heels up the wall of cupboards, and lowering her head down against the kitchen island, and inching up, inverting her body as she did so. I too tried this trick, but I couldn’t do it. I lost it, and flung a motor-bike against a car in a fit of rage. I got on a bicycle and rode, hard, down the highway, crying loudly, in a singing kind of way.

I ended up trying to ride up a grassy hill where my mother was, and I fell in the grass and cried and cried, and woke myself up, crying.

The image of Chris’s father was faint in the background as I had had my tantrum. I remember my own father’s illogical angry outbursts; in fact, these characterize him for me. But what is significant to me is that this dim fatherly presence was permissive (or perhaps just passive) in regards to my tantrum, where I think my biological dad would have tried to outshout me to suppress my outburst. The problematic nature of this is evident, as pertains to the development (or lack thereof) of a strong and positive logical function. This dream father allowed me, however illogical or emotion-ridden. This is a step in allowing me to get closer to him once again, and perhaps learn to be guided somewhat by reason, when appropriate.

My image search of fountains led me to these images of the Trevi Fountain in Rome. How they speak to me, how appropriate they seem to my quest!

I have come to find out that the God-like figure at the head of this fountain is the sea God Poseidon. His son is half man, half fish, and in addition to having a trident, has a conch shell, which, when he blows upon it, can calm the waves of the sea, or raise them up. (My wailing in the dream… to calm my raging emotions?)

I looked up what Jung has written of water, which is what spirit turns into when it becomes heavy. It led me to this powerful idea, from Jung, Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious, 16.

We must surely go the way of the waters, which always tend downward, if we would raise up the treasure, the precious inheritance of the father. In the Gnostic hymn to the soul, the son is sent forth by his parents to seek the pearl that fell from the King’s crown. It lies at the bottom of a deep well, guarded by a dragon, in the land of the Egyptians– that land of fleshpots and drunkenness with all its material and spiritual riches. The son and heir sets out to fetch the jewel, but forgets himself and his task in the orgies of Egyptian worldliness, until a letter from his father reminds him what his duty is. He then sets out for the water and plunges into the dark depths of the well, where he finds the pearl on the bottom, and in the end offers it to the highest divinity.

This hymn, ascribed to Bardesanes, dates from an age that resembled ours in more than one respect. Mankind looked and waited, and it was a fish– “levatus de profundo” (drawn from the deep) — that became the symbol of the saviour, the bringer of healing.

It is my somatic impulses that bring the message of healing, the pain in my gut, rather the the cravings of my consciousness. It is through listening to my voice from the depths that I will be saved, and in recovering the positive image of father.

This, I feel, was a calling forth of male energy, and asking it to work with me, not against me.

Other images from the night include: a baby that had learned how to walk, and even boggie a little. A walk to a junior high school through winter snow.

Came to me in a dream up in Grand Lake over this year’s 4th of July weekend. I had spent a lot of time getting angry at my husband, and I practiced transforming those raw feelings into love. Engaging my will as to how I was going to be in the situation.

The dream was in a rather pastoral setting. There were two or three dogcows there, climbing in the hills. I remember a close-up shot of a black dog, with a big, bulging utter.

The interpretation I gave it I found quite interesting. The black dog represents the great adversayry: the devil himself to some Muslims. However, this dream showed that this entity also brought fertility and abundance.

This rings true when applied to adversarial situations. They are fertile moments ripe with potential for growth.

***

A month or so later, in “real life” a wildly popular singer morbidly died at age 27. It was nighttime, and I was at her concert. I left, and suddenly it was day, and I was lost. I didn’t know how to get home. My little black cat, Iony appeared, as we were on a vivdly green lawn. But then suddenly there was another black cat, and another, and another. I did not know which one was Iony. I reached out to them all. Next I found myself at a house in the neighborhood, the residence of a rather fabulous lady. There was a beautiful tile floor, a kitchen, male energy present, cool furniture, and paintings. I was able to use the facilities to regroup for my journey home. I have a faint memory of galloshes, and a pretty scarf hanging on the door of the hallway water closet. I met her briefly on my way out.

As far as any meaning I can glean from that one at this point: I may have a lot thrown at me and I may be confused as to where the right place is to put my heart. Despite any confusion, I will be taken care of along the way.

***

And the theme continued. Not long after, I dreamed that I gave our black dog Trinity to Summer. Trinity ran back after me. Suddenly, she too had a twin, just one other, not three more, like with the kitties. Then, Martha our neighbor’s black dog Brandy was there, all wild, but being subdued with a bucket half-filled with water clasped over her snout. The wild being taken right out of her.

My dreams have been getting more vivid as I have been reading Carl Jung. He wrote that the unconscious responds to attention. It has. He also wrote about the unconscious having a compensating effect to the conscious mind. Providing the other half of what is in waking life and the outer world for us.

***

Then there was the dream about hiking in the forest at night, and encountering the hiker’s worst nightmare: a family of bears. Chris and I avoided those, but there was this big alpha brown bear that followed me, that was determined to get right up into my business, right through the clump of trees we were half-hiding behind. Next I was at some condo in Vail or Aspen or Steamboat or someplace. The bear found me there too, and was all up in my face, and there was nothing left for me to do but let him snuggle me on the couch. I gave in to my natural inclination to by comfortable with this giant wild animal bonding with me, and gave up the idea that I should be scared and wary, like the rest of society would have me believe. It was a big letting go of the struggle, a surrender.

***

I must say that after some ups and downs, my guts have been doing a lot better. I have been doing my best to listen to my body, and give it adequate rest. I also have been giving in to my food cravings, and, to my surprise, I have had minimal symptoms.

But I have this addiction to sweetness. The above may be the psychological part of it, but we have the physiological as well. It is absolutely normal for people to be drawn to sweetness. Fruits are loaded with vitamins, and sweets provide pleasure and energy bursts. But too much of potent sweetness hurts people, too. How basic: to be drawn to pleasure and repelled by pain. How inevitable, also, that one is ensnared by a world of suffering.

This is what the Buddha spoke of: the world of which suffering is an inherent part. Meditation teaches us to let go of our perceptions, our feelings, and our thoughts, to access our spiritual nature and the beautiful experience of all as one thing. One is free from all attachment and all aversion in the awe and bliss of interconnectedness through turning the attention inward. Here, where there is one, there is also the other in the unity that is the base of all dualism. Here, there is no time: no past nor the future, there is eternity. There is nowhere else to be, nothing to do, just as in the arms of a lover after having been immersed in the throws of passion.

This only happens to yogis when they are ready, and it happens naturally. Such things cannot be forced. But I feel forced by my body. My body is forcing me to change my diet and my habits. But she is me, and knows better for me than my ego, which is just a miniscule bump in the totality of my being. I have been torn between which voice to listen to.

I have not wanted to give up sweetness through food. It is an impulse that I have struggled to control, and have felt out of control with, when it comes to my cravings. I have felt powerless, in fact, and this has come up in my dreams. I dreamed about a penis that was just not working right. I knew it represents my own proverbial penis: the productive part of me that gets things done. The energy that I am experiencing in the negative, is masculine. Positive male energy provides a good rule of law and order, discipline, and structure. This has been lacking for me in my area of diet.

I have been a task-master, which has definitely not been very sweet, and this has thrown me off-kilter. Ah, yes, the unavailable father complex to pair with the death of my mother. The father commands many things: but above all, to take a rest, turn inward, and notice that which is sacred. It’s time to lay down the law with me in a loving, positive way. As I have accessed mother, I must also engage father within. Portion control, and maybe, just maybe, I have to give up honey for a while. I know from experience that I need to alkalize myself, and this is done through eliminating honey and certain raw fruits. I must practice food yoga, and only eat when I need food and eat the food that makes me feel good; what I do when I am really, very present with my whole self, with the conscious and the unconscious, somatic all-knowing self.

My visualization: I am connected to the nurturing, nourishing mother through the roots growing down into her through the soles of my feet, inner and outer metatarcels, and the center of my heels. On inhalations in tadasana standing pose, I draw from her what I need, up into the solar plexus, softening and widening the back bottom lungs. I place my hands at my chest, balancing the left and the right, the masculine and the feminine. I extend out through the top of my head, connecting with the heavens. I exhale all that I do not need within me back into the earth, which will take it into the proverbial compost pile and magma fire beneath the earth to be made into something useful once again. I touch my right armpit chest with my right thumb, recalling male energy and a reminder to do what’s right. I know the spiritual fire within me, beneath the thinking mind’s cartwheels, the heart’s leaping, and the sense perceptions, lies the authentic presence, radiant bliss, more real than anything I could set upon my corporeal tongue. There is an almond-peach pit-shaped glowing ball of light, resplendent like an inner star the color of honey, radiating in my heart. I swallowed it when I was made, and I have uncovered it, once again. I can access it any time I wish…

An enormous difficulty has been making new choices distinct from old habits. My very identity is at stake, as I struggle against my body’s deepest impulses, that are themselves out of balance. For example: a rule of the game for me is simply this: eat more vegetables. I must balance out acidifying foods like fruit and honey (I don’t even have refined sugar, milk, or starch AT ALL) and meat and tea with alkalizing foods, such as vegetables, almonds, lemons, and olive oil.

But for me, this balancing is HARD! I crave almond meal baked goodies sweetened with honey and fruit almost constantly. I have eggs and greens for breakfast (with almond bread), a baked good for mid-morning snack, meat and veggies and salad for lunch, then I’m craving another treat, I have dinner, and I want dessert again.

But isn’t this how normal people eat? Don’t they say to have 6 little meals a day? Doesn’t that include a little treat here and there? Yes, this is ok, right? It’s when I binge out on desert and over-indulge, when I am eating recreationally, and I know it. These treats don’t hurt me indiscretely like they the rest of the population (except with the expanding waist-bands) they hurt me loud and clear when I start to have yucky gut pain again. Maybe it’s the coffee I tried, or the unsweetened chocolate, or the soymilk I dabbled with… I’m still trying to figure this all out.

I am into meditation, and I totally get it about our attachments bringing us suffering. Trouble is, I don’t want to withdraw from the senses and let go physical indulgences. I am not a saint or an aesthetic. It doesn’t work that way, to be forced into that way of being. Sure it must be wonderful to heal the sick and work other miracles, but I just want a friggin cupcake. So I have an almond bread banana muffin with a side of kale. Delicious, but… it is a slippery slope. Yes, I have a raging addiction to sweetness, pleasure, comfort, and earthly beauty.

Is meditation the answer?

Is meditation really even better even than cupcakes?

All I can do is stop more frequently to ask what my body is trying to tell me about the state of my soul. Have I deprived myself of sweetness in other ways?

Yoga is observing the body and noticing any differences side to side. This way one notices where one is off-kilter, stuck, tight, closed, or weak. Yoga asks us to correct any imbalances. We ask the body to work in certain areas and to release in others. This opens us up, balances us, and aligns our bodies, like an iron smoothing out the wrinkles from freshly washed linen pants.

During this process we may recall events from the past: accidents, injuries, or traumas. We discover parts of ourselves from which we have gone, places from where we have checked out, perhaps to avoid pain, or because of inertia. This is reflected in our postures, in our ways of holding ourselves. Our body is a record of our response to life, to the inevitable bumps in the road. It is easy to close our hears, to withdraw, to get tense, crooked, lazy, or downtrodden.

Through yoga we learn what we don’t know about our bodies, and thus see what we don’t know about ourselves, by bringing the light of consciousness into matter, and working with the unconscious by working with the body itself. It is a nonverbal process, a mindfulness, a remembering. It is accessing the body-memory, the memory that resides in the body.

The unconscious areas are very dense. Practicing yoga, there is an unraveling that happens as the body aligns, a becoming of sacred geometry. By taking the pose and holding yoga asanas for extended periods of time, these dense areas unwind, as one relaxes, comes back to self, and comes back to center.

Yoga teaches us to stay, that it’s ok, that it’s all connected, that it’s ALL ONE THING.

Watering the yard by hand is a wonderful way to really get into the moment. You can feel the need of a parched garden for water, and giving it a drink feels nice for all involved. If you take the time to do it by hand, it’s a great time-out from busy daily life.

Feel the wind on your skin, the sun on your face. Hear birdsong. Mull things over. Let it all go. Breathe. Drink in peace.

In discussion of watering we get into the study of the elements and their properties: water, earth, air, fire, (and the fifth element space). When we spend time meditating on each of these, we become familiar with how they “feel.” Then, one is able to apply these characteristic to situations at hand that have to do with our psyches.

For instance, I notice the cool, calming effects of water. Water is an essential element to life; without water, there is none. We become acutely aware of its absence in times of drought, and cannot escape a feeling of awe at its immensity when we are at the ocean’s edge.

There is something magical about the way it feels when it has rained after a period of dryness. All the plant-life exudes a feeling of refreshment like it’s been given a nice long drink. Dust and dirt is washed away, and everything is clean. This is particularly so when then the sun comes out, the light is golden, and everything sparkles.

There is something about the way it feels after a thunderstorm, and after a good cry. There is a release, an outpour, and then following calm.

The way elements feel is something a person is able to tap into when becoming very present in what one is doing, particularly outside. In gardening, one is directly afforded this opportunity in planting seeds in the earth, especially having background in meditation and mindfulness. In gardening, a person not only can but must really notice the richness of deep, dark, earthy soil; and the feel the differences amongst sand, clay, and compost. We experience our connectedness to the Earth. It is an act of survival mankind has performed for thousands of years. This kind of work, picking plants from the earth, is what our bodies have no less than evolved to do. In working with the earth we also work with our bodies, with matter, which is in effect, working with the Mother archetype.

Gardening brings us outside, to connect with our mother, and the soul sings its praises of the act.

Plus some delicious tilapia (I bake about 4 filets at a time, with lemon, olive oil, salt, pepper, and dill for 30 minutes at 400 degrees), red peppers, tomato, grapeseed oil and lemon, salt and pepper, a scallion, some blackberries, and a touch of home-made mayo dressing.

You don’t need a fancy compost thingamagiggy. The rubish pit naturally gets worms, as you can see here, among the wonderfully rotting leaves.

Just give your waste to the great Earth mother. She will take care of it, and give you back black gold in return.

My conflict-ridden day was totally of my own making.

I was pleasant going in, all smiles I took attendance. But, thinking I had to immediately harness their chaotic, rambunctious, pubescent energy, I was all business, diving straight away into their reading assignment in language arts. And the horrible attitudes of certain individuals began before I could hardly blink an eye. And I reverted back to the dualistic, me versus them, dominance/submission paradigm. A recipe for conflict, not transformation of energy. I squashed them. Tried to silence them. Maybe I should have done “Good Things,” where a few people share a good thing, even though they are horrible listeners to each other and disrespect the speaker. They are thirteen and fourteen years old. I could have asked about what they were working on in language arts, what if they liked the story, what they thought about it, how they felt about it. I could have engaged them in dialogue. But instead, I was trying to light the fire of learning on dark coals.

Some of these kids are under the thumb of authoritarian dictators at home. They certainly don’t need another one at school. No wonder they are fomenting with unrest. They need a vehicle of expression. Language Arts may importantly teach the story of Anne Frank, but what about the secrets these kids themselves are hiding, that drive negative behaviors and derail intellectual pursuits?

The current fad here in Denver is a glorious resurgence of raising chickens, and even goats. What if, we reintroduced horses as a means of travel? It would be dusty and not as convenient, but what if there was the infrastructure in place to support it? Sure, horses defecate, but that is just usable manure; and they eat hay, not guzzle gas and oil. I’d love to ride a horse to work, park my horse in a parking lot-turned pasture, and horse-lock it to a nice trough of oats in the commons.

This day I was “supposed to be” inside my house applying for a job whose application deadline was in two days. At least that is what my intellect told me. I was getting annoyed, remembering that the one previous job I had that would amount to anything like previous experience was riddled with the memory of an evil office queen that resolved to hate me and ruin my reputation to the boss because I was in the process of unwittingly exposing his corrupt ways. Thus, I only had this job for a little over a month. Hmph. There goes that lead for the next phase of my career. But, I was going to apply anyway. My husband insists how important it is that I keep applying for jobs. We must reverse the negative flow of our bank accounts. One little comment about what I could do in my web business put me over the edge. You can do that, I said. I was suddenly feeling so overwhelmed: working two jobs, applying for a career job, AND tending to a a start-up side business. Something had to give a little! Things felt too rigid and constrictive. I reflected that what was making me frustrated were memories of that horrible internship.

My husband wisely recommended that I consider that negative man to be a divine messenger, pushing me in the direction that I had needed to go: away from a job that was a virtually unpaid, and was not going to produce little more than minimum wage in the actual position. Well, now I had no good reference for the job I was applying for. What was the adversary’s lesson, then? Practice sticking up for myself? As it turns out, maybe both.

The beautiful day succeeded in pulling me outside. My husband was energized with the idea of working on the yard, and documenting the whole thing. This is completely along the lines of thingsthatmakelifebetter.com, our idea for a web-based business for me, which, incidentally, is way more up my alley than most jobs out there are, most of which don’t want to hire a scholar with little if any professional experience outside of the restaurant business. We went and got two fruit trees. I planted one with the rest of the time I had left before work. I took pictures of the whole thing. (Keep your eyes out for the post on tree-planting!) I soaked up some sun. I got some exercise. I charged my soul with joy. I felt right, inspired, on. THIS is what I am supposed to be doing.

Thus, I felt in my bones, that the adversary’s message was this: do your own thing. Do what feels right. Pursue your personal legend, and you will land right where you need to be. The weird crying fit alerts you simply that you aren’t in alignment with your soul. Let it give, and receive.

Feeling a little low-energy, drained, or just plain blah? Get outside! Even just ten minutes does wonders for the soul. My mate and I hopped in the truck, and a few minutes later we were at a perfect spot near our river, greening spaces and picnic tables inviting us out into the sunshine. This time of year it was all about newly awakened birdsong, golden afternoon sunlight, and a cool breeze ruffling through my hair. A robin crooned beautifully from the low branches of a tree budding nearby, and the river rolled lazily along below the path-side balcony. The precious natural environment was so uplifting, so soothing. This day, I rode a wave of contentment and gratitude into nightfall.

Set about an inch’s worth of water to boil in a medium sized pot with a lid. Wash a couple of leaves of the collard greens. Two big pieces make a large individual serving or a small one for two.

Chop.

Place chopped greens into a wire strainer, and set into the pot when the water is steaming and the water is rolling a boil. Set a timer for 5 minutes.

Transfer the greens from strainer onto your plate, and drizzle with a rich, golden grapeseed oil (Costco has an affordable delicious one). Olive oil is nice too. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, and enjoy!

Here I have my greens for brunch with a fried egg, a slice of prosciutto, tomato slices, blackberries, and an almond meal muffin. Yum!

Deep Green Veggies Steam Times:
swiss chard and spinach: 3 minutes
collard greens and kale: 5 minutes
asparagus: 8 minutes
broccoli: 10 minutes

What may be the case of what is happening, is that your conscious, rational, logical mind that is in charge of your schooling is having a conflict with your unconscious, nonrational, intuitive mind. You may have a million things to do for school, but your inclination is otherwise. Both modes of intelligence have your survival in mind, but the nonrational intuitive part of you is the seat of your inner child, and you may feel drawn to go outside, to play, to eat, to sleep, something more in tune with the rhythms of the natural world. But you have a schedule to keep, responsibilities, an agenda, and taking some free time is not what is going to get you through to the next step in your life. Yes, this is an uncomfortable place to be.

But not to worry! Your inner child just wants to be heard. Just take five mintues to quiet your mind, and feel your body, for this is where your unconscious intelligence resides. Sit outside, if the weather permits. Or sit quietly wherever you may find yourself. Stretch your arms, stretch your legs. Close your eyes. Feel your breath, and the rise and fall of your diaphram. Sit straight and tall, clear your head, and follow your breath with your mind’s eye. Notice if there’s a part of your body that is tense, and breathe into that place. Let go of any holding that is going on in your body other than in your core, which should be holding you up. Lift your heart. Breathe. Relax your brain. Breathe. If your mind starts to wander, acknowledge whatever thoughts present themselves. Then, just let them go. In this state, you may find that suddenly the answer to what you were working on pops into your head. But the main point is to just empty your head for a few mintues, resisting your habits to THINK, to analyze, criticize, dialogue, and judge. Just be with yourself.

When you are ready, come back to waking life. Without distracting yourself with any other activity, go back to your task. You will find that it is easier to concentrate, it is less of a struggle, and that you can persevere. When you are finished, make sure you reward yourself with whatever your heart desires. Take the time to listen to what that is.

From sun-up to way past sunset, I have been a very busy bee. But I’ve heard that sunset is a magical time of day. So I sat on the couch, where the light falls the most beautifully in the house. And I just sat. And man, it felt good. My criss-crossed legs throbbed in ecstacy. There was that yellow-pink glow peaking out from between the grey and white winter clouds. The sunbeam was slanted, greatly dimmed, but well, yes, magical. I surrendered to the moment. Nothing to do, only to be. And I let go… and my mind, and my spirit, went off. I did the simplest thing, the most sacred thing that I’ve been missing. I took a pause from my busy schedule to just be. I will end this post with a guided meditation that I did witnessing the sunset after dinner one evening as the spring began to warm up, a meditation that brought me a deep-seated peace. Yoga is optional. Of course, no yoga on a full belly, except a few easy reclining poses.

When I took a break from my busy-ness, and took the time to just be, just sitting there felt so, so good. I was sitting facing the sunset, sideways on the couch, with my legs straightened out in front of me. I really got into my body, and started taking a really good deep breath or two in and out. My body said how great if would feel if I laid my upper back over the cushy padded arm of the couch, and I extend into a nice backbend. I stayed in that backbend for quite a few good minutes, stretching my arms back, broadening my shoulderblades and reaching out through my fingertips; I clasped my fingers all together and stretched out through my palms, extending my arms, extending out through the top of my head. I clasped my hands, bent my elbows, and held my arms together, elbows touching, feeling my shoulder and my neck align and strengthen. When I sat back up, my state of consciousness was altered. As I relaxed my brain, in my meditation, I saw the colored light patterns on the backs of my eyelids. I remembered seeing these as a child, while rubbing my eyes to make them brighter when I was laying down, going to sleep at night. I came to realize and actually witness myself as energy, and was almost, almost in the state between sleeping and dreaming and being awake. This was one of the best meditations I’ve ever done, totally spontaneously I sat in the most blissful state for like an hour.

I maintain that the most sacred thing you can do yourself is to just take a break, take a true break from your thoughts and to do list and everything, surrender to the moment, let go of everything, relax, and just be. This is particularly wonderful after dinner as I found.

Happiness is not a “when, then” strategy. True contentment comes in the moment, regardless of circumstances. This, undoubtedly, is more or less challenging depending on the circumstances. For instance, if one is in jail, in poverty, or trapped in an unpleasant job, it is much more difficult to have a sense of ease in the soul than if one is in love, just got promoted, or is petting their animal companion. Yet, contentment, or at least peace, is possible in any happen-stance, it just becomes an art in the more difficult times.

Unhappiness is often disguised as the yearning for freedom. “If only I had enough money, I could buy x, do y, or experience z.” “If I only had a partner, my heart would soar in the completion of myself.” This strategy is an illusion, for you are never going to be truly happy, with a contentment that permeates your whole being, until you are happy with what is, right now. In this state of being, when you do achieve that which you’ve been counting on for happiness, new when/thens will just keep coming up, because this is your modus operandi, or habitual way of being. Know that freedom is achievable in this very moment, regardless of what situation you find yourself in.

So, when you find yourself stuck, depressed, grumpy, or dissatisfied, find freedom in the choice that you have regarding your focus. Are you focusing on injustice, lack, worry, or fear? Or are you counting your blessings, feeling the warm sun on your face, and enjoying the wind magically rustling through the leaves on the trees? Get out of the future or the past, and be here now. You can be annoyed, or you can be grateful and in love; it is up to you, at any given moment. It is hard to break habits, especially mood habits, escaping the “normal” reaction you have in certain scenarios. But you do not have to be trapped. Physically, you may be incarcerated. Circumstantially, you may be stuck. But your state of your mind can be controlled by YOU.

When you find yourself annoyed, disgruntled, or grumpy, notice it. Allow yourself this natural reaction that is you. But then choose something else. Feel compassion. Become aware of anything the situation has to teach you. Think about someone you love, no strings attached. Think about, or better yet, do something you love doing. Allow the energy from your head to drop into your heart. And expand it. Love yourself. Being annoyed or grumpy only hurts you. You have the freedom to choose something else, any time you choose to.

Right around the turning of winter to spring is the perfect time to open your garden. This post shows how I started, and discusses the basics of what to do to begin. It really is simple with a few basic instructions. All you need is a few tools, some seeds, and I place to put unwanted turf, if you are putting a garden into an existing yard. Allow your imagination to go wild, and your garden will flourish with added water, weeding, and sunshine.

This year, I made sure I had a nice rectangular plot that was level. I used a shovel to pry up clumps of sod. I placed them where the ground was low; or you can also use the clumps as “bricks” to make a natural fence somewhere. If you turn the clods upside down, it kills the grass contained in them, and then, if you break them up, they will break down back into just dirt eventually. If you move them somewhere right side up, then they will stay growing, with enough water. Just arrange what you’ve dug up like puzzle pieces, fill in the cracks with soil, and you have yard, level 2. I just need to build a retaining wall around the sidewalk, as you may be able to see at the left edge of the picture below.

Next I raked the ground to level out all the bumps and valleys, to prepare it for seeds.

The first thing that I wanted to put into the ground is peas. The peas need something to grow up and climb on, so I enclosed the area with a wire fence (see above). I reused mesh and poles to secure it down that I already had around. I dug a shallow little trench with a garden trowel, or hand-shovel around the border of the fence. The seeds will need to be covered with an inch and a half of soil, so that is about how deep I dug.

Then, I placed the peas from a packet I got at the grocery store about an inch apart, and placed dirt back on top of them with the little trowel.

Next, in two of the corners, I sparcely, not thickly, sprinkled lettuce seeds, and mixed them in lightly with a hand rake. These seeds only need to be covered by about 1/8 inch of dirt, so I kept them as near to the surface of the earth as I could.

Seed packets have instructions printed on them, so when you try this at home, there is plenty of guidance as far as seed depth and spacing, and how to thin out the plants later if they are growing too close together. The carrots I sprinkled around too, but they need like 1/2 inch of soil on top of them, so I mixed them into the dirt a little deeper.

As soon as the soil can be worked, you can also plant spinach and swiss chard, which I highly recommend. Broccoli, too! The only limitation is lack of imagination, inspiration, and space. Happy planting!

The Humanities are valuable, indispensable, in my opinion, as they raise questions of meaning and value. Education is important, we have all been told. It is great to become a captain of industry, a millionaire, a doctor, a lawyer, a scientist, an engineer, the president of the United States, a football player and a movies star; but what good is all this if one is not happy nor healthy? And what if these possibilities are no longer within reach, too expensive to attain, and shipped to Asia? And what joy is there in a world built strictly upon logic, analysis, and linear thinking, if the landscape is austere and stripped of any beauty, kindness, and color? Frills, some of you might say, but what have been the rewards of a utilitarian, materialistic society, idolizing the individual and grand amassments of wealth?

What we have before us is a polarized society: not only left versus right, conservative against liberal, but rich at the expense of the poor, the industrious over the indigenous, and concrete and cattle over pasture and rain forest, Big Macs versus good old-fashioned (and HEALTHY) “home-cookin,” (which for tens of thousands of years included vegetables that all children were actually familiar with and could recognize). We are leaving a planet raped of her resources, polluted and de-regulated to our children.

America’s financial woes cannot be rectified at the expense of our weakest citizens, yet this is now what is on the table. The less fortunate (and less deserving?) often survive on sugar and fat, which, I am not arguing, are a delicious combination of flavors, but can we really afford frozen pizza and sprite when we bring our future healthcare costs into the equation? It is a reality for most families that mother and father both must work, some of them must work two jobs, merely to survive; to eat Mac and Cheese in front of the TV, and do it all the next day. But, if we are only educated enough, this may not be our fate. Really?

We are considering axing away at what has been an institution to “level the playing field” and make the “American Dream” accessible to all. Because it is better to tax everyone equally? And less than it takes to meet our expenditure obligations? Am I the only one, or does this not compute. I do not think it takes a Master’s degree to figure out that we would be going down the wrong path to slash programs that help families, continue to fight wars which serve to bankrupt our nation while creating more enemies, and continue to give tax breaks to millionaires who just might create a few jobs with their superior innovation and capitalistic inclinations. We must let go of our offenses and shore up our defenses, balance our priorities, and search our souls for what it really means to lead a good life. Sitting back is just not a good option. Write your representatives and ask them to do the right thing. For the love of humanity!

1. Love yourself.
2. Trust your guts.
3. Act out of confidence in your ability to manifest your dreams into reality, not out of fear of the possibility of failure.
4. Everything material you don’t need, purge.
5. For everything interior that you don’t need, make space for. You may find that it will disappear on its own.
6. Grow vegetables.
7. Make time to prepare meals from scratch.
8. Turn off the TV while you eat.
9. Allow children and pets distract you into play.
10. Take a load off to watch the sun go down.
11. Fall asleep to your fantasies, not the TV screen.