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it’s snowing

Oh, what a beautiful day. Look at all that snow. White as white can be. Slowing us down to almost a crawl, and we can’t do anything about it for at least a few hours. Just for a little while, are you enjoying the crawl? Notice how each snowflake has its own pattern. I noticed one day when I was on the steps of a friend’s townhouse. It was snowing wildly, and NYC was at a snail’s pace. My friend and I both happened to glance at the glass door where snowflakes had settled. We were enthralled with their patterns. Neither of us had stopped to appreciate individual snowflakes before this day. It was one of those moments when time seemed to stand still.

A snail’s pace is nice for a change, though I know not for everyone. Businesses have to keep to their schedules, but can’t, when the snow falls heavily. The thing about this keeping to schedules is that when we let go, in these kinds of situations, and not worry, when we enjoy the beauty of the day, somehow we get the support of the universe, and it all works out.

For someone not used to trusting this way, it’s not easy. However, it’s like everything else, you won’t know unless you make it your experience. Think of the tiny, fragile, snowflakes, think of their patterns and their beauty. It seems that the universe does things creatively, not adhering to the same old script, even when the results are the same, as in a snowstorm. The universe has fun.

Shouldn’t we also since we’re a part of it all?

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stress

A life of quality means different things to different people. It can’t be denied that people are very stressed, and can’t stop long enough to think about changing their life of stress. Let’s say “can’t” since if change as a possibility doesn’t even enter the mind, how is it possible to change? Feeling that things have to be a certain way, that this is how life is, and that’s that, is not freedom, is not independence-is living a low-energy life. Some people thrive on stress. They don’t need to take anything to calm down. That’s a whole different ballgame. Quality of life either way is what’s important.

Ah, the beginning of something wondrous is the minute someone gets an inkling that maybe, just maybe, there are other ways of living that are not stressful, other ways that can bring happiness. Mainstream anything generally writes the same old same old. You simply have to be aware of the possibilities.

“You were born with potential.
You were born with goodness and trust.
You were born with ideals and dreams.
You were born with greatness.
You were born with wings.
You were not meant for crawling- so don’t.
You have wings.
Learn to use them and fly.”
-Rumi

“The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves, too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. Unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance which no men could have dreamed would have come his way.”
-Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

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lentil soup

It’s winter; it’s time for lentil soup! So easy to prepare, so tasty. Lentils are friendly; they accept many kinds of flavorings. They must be popular; they’re on many restaurant menus. Want to find a big pot waiting for you tonight? Let’s get going; it won’t take long. Meander over to an organic market. It’s so much better for you. You don’t want pesticides having free reign in your beautiful body. Do you?

What’s great about preparing this lentil soup is that you needn’t clog your mind with having to remember exact ingredients. It’s that easy. Do you have a pot with a 3 quart capacity? Smaller is fine, too. You’ll just not add the same quantity of ingredients.

Before we begin, I’ve got to say that, when preparing this soup, I’m loose with spices. With me, it’s a little bit of this spice; a little bit of that spice. Have fun with it. What do you have on hand for spices? Dill is good, thyme, oregano, basil, too, cayenne is wonderful, as is cinnamon – simply add a pinch at a time and taste. Choose the spices you want and make the soup yours. One thing, no old spices, check expiration date!

Let’s begin: cooking time-1 hour, or until lentils are tender-
1-2 Tablespoon(s) olive oil
1 yellow onion
3 cloves garlic, diced (more or less garlic, depending on your taste)
1-2 yams (depending on size of yam)
2 large carrots
2 cups green lentils (Arrowhead Mills is good, you’ll probably want to experiment)
1 14 oz. canned tomatoes (bionaturae tomatoes have a wonderful flavor, experiment)
4 cups water
handful of chopped parsley (optional)
sea salt and pepper, to taste

In the kitchen: chop the onion and dice the garlic. Saute onion and garlic in olive oil on medium heat. Stir often for about 5 minutes. Slice the carrots lengthwise, then in half. Dice the length of the carrot. Do the same with the yam(s). We want small bites so that they cook quickly. Add carrots and yam(s) to the pan, continue sauteeing for another 5 minutes. Add the lentils and stir. Add spices and stir. Add the canned tomatoes and about 4 cups of water (room temperature so as not to lower temperature, too much). Keep stirring. Cover and simmer. If, during cooking, the soup looks thick like a stew, add a little more water. Watch. Maybe you like it thick, maybe not. Your decision. When cooked, add a handful of chopped parsley. If you want, prepare brown rice, have it along with the lentil soup for a heartier meal. Lundberg is a good brand. Again experiment.
www.lundberg.com

And enjoy!

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a little glimpse

He said that he was born in Southeast Asia and was adopted by Mormons. That was his past. He was handsome, kind, soft-spoken, intelligent, and easily enjoyed being with people. He was a professor at a major university on the west coast, until he took a year off to travel around South America with his Japanese girlfriend.

One evening in Ecuador, when a group of us gathered at a restauant for dinner, the kind of casual meal that welcomed others to join, he spoke about a place in Hawaii where he had recently been. During his stay there he said everything he desired came true. Everything! I asked him, if that was the case, why he didn’t stay. He replied that it would be a very boring life.

I got to thinking recently about him, this citizen of the world. I can only guess, but, if this kind of experience exists, it must be true for everyone. We can all have a glimpse of just how fascinating this world of ours is, and be grateful to the Intelligence that created it. But . . . we are so busy with what’s before us that we don’t stop often enough to consider the grandeur of our world, and that it’s not what it seems.

******* ******* *******

“. . . He decided to dedicate his life to researching consciousness and mystical experiences, which he now feels are among ‘the natural birthrights of all human beings.’ ” – Ode Jan/Feb 2007, Tijn Touber, p. 75-about Stanislav Grof, WHEN THE IMPOSSIBLE HAPPENS: ADVENTURES IN NON-ORDINARY REALITY

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“going home”

A long line of people waited patiently to enter the funeral parlor to say a last goodbye to a man who died two weeks ago. This man was a husband, father, grandfather, friend to many, and a photographer in this lifetime. I met him only a few times. From time to time, through the years, I’d heard about him from mutual acquaintances when I visited the town where he lived. His work took him to many places. He knew many people and belonged to many organizations for his community and his work.

When his son spoke at the mass for his father, he spoke about the man his father was, but mostly he spoke about the way he died. He had leukemia, and was supposed to live three months. He fooled the doctor and stayed for another two years. His son said during that time, “We laughed, cried, played and prayed intermittingly.”

He was prepared for death. How many people can say that? Preparing for our own death brings many benefits. It doesn’t mean we have to stop living. Not at all. It doesn’t have to be morbid. Death is a fact of life; to be comfortable with it makes perfect sense.

Plans were made for him and his family to take a cruise a few months ago. You can see from this that he lived until he died. However, the cruise was not meant to be.

Shortly before his father died, the son said, “. . . He called those closest to him around his bed. He said goodbye to each one of us individually, and told us what we meant to him. This was not the first time he told his family of his love but some how he knew that this was the last time. It was his final gift to us. He told us that he was ‘going home’ tomorrow and that he wanted to make sure he said goodbye to us one last time.”

When a copy of the son’s eulogy was forwarded to me, it was a joy to read. In the email the son said that “One of his father’s favorite sayings was ‘The magic is in the moment.’

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i can still hear my father

Sometimes when alone on a long journey, the mind has a way of pulling you into distant memories-if you let it. If it’s pleasant, I let it. Last week on one of those journeys I found myself thinking about my father and smiling. I had to smile because suddenly, out of the blue, I understood the why of some unusual stories he would tell me when I was a child. In those days people didn’t have the flood of information that we have in today’s world. They had to be creative.

When we were young, I don’t remember the exact age, my father would tell stories relating to alcohol and gambling. Those were the times when he’d call me Francesca. Now I know those were also the times when he was gearing up for something-something that was difficult for him to do.

He’d begin in this way, “Francesca,” he’d always catch me off guard, “when I was young and single I used to go out with my friends. There were times when we’d be walking home in the late evening, and all of a sudden we’d see a beautiful woman lying in the gutter with her dress up to here.” he’d then indicate the height. “She was drunk, Francesca, there’s nothing worse than a woman lying dead drunk, legs sprawled, in the gutter.” I can still hear him as he emphasized certain words. I hear him clearly, even now. Interesting tactics my father employed. As for me, it’s one glass of wine, two if it’s a light table wine, no one will ever find me dead drunk lying in the gutter, with my dress up to “here.”

This is how he handled the gambling stories. “Francesca, when I was young and single, I had friends who loved to gamble. The problem was that they were good, and didn’t know when to stop. Can you imagine, Francesca, going home to the wife (yes, that’s what he said, “the wife”) , and telling her you lost your entire paycheck, the paycheck for the mortgage, for food, for maybe medicine, for the children-the whole paycheck gone?”

He told those stories in an easy style. I can’t remember what my young mind thought of those stories at that time, but I do know that I’m not a gambler either. I’ve won at the black jack table, and when I win, a pack of wild horses couldn’t separate me from that money.

I’ve got to give you credit, dad; you were clever.

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grand central terminal

Grand Central terminal, New York City, what a place. Action is what it’s all about. Get into the rhythm of the walk and you’ll be just fine. Meeting someone? Not a chance of missing each other if you meet under the clock. Looking for food? Food is everywhere – upstairs, downstairs, all around the Station.

Find the Market on the Lexington Avenue side, and buy a meal, or groceries, at any number of inviting take-out places. Ah, which way to go after leaving the Market? That is the question. To the left is the subway entrance. But wait, stay awhile, don’t miss the speciality stores parallel to where you are. After that, you might want to walk towards the clock, but notice O for your olive oil. See the big clock? To the left are the ticket counters where you can purchase a ticket for Connecticut, Westchester, or the Hudson River Valley towns. Look above the ticket counters at the signs for gate number and time of departure.

Backtrack east for a moment along the ticket counters to a small window where pamphlets are waiting for the taking, along with a knowledgeable person ready to answer your questions about what-to-do around town. Found interesting information? Good. Now as you walk toward the Park Avenue side notice on your left the exist to exciting 42nd Street.

But don’t leave yet, we’ve only just begun. Are you in the middle of Grand Central? Look up. Now you’re facing the Park Avenue side. Walk up the steps, for a leisurely drink, wine perhaps, in a pleasant, relaxing setting. Oh, my, there’s so much happening at Grand Central. Have time for the New York Transit Museum? It’s also straight ahead, same level as the big clock. Get acquainted with this landmark building, look at the ceiling, walk around. Beautiful. Isn’t it? You can’t get lost here. Take in the energy, slip in and out of the crowd. You’ll pass Starbuck’s, Orens, Zaro for coffee and a quick something.

Ready for downstairs? Hope you’re hungry, there’s lots of tasty choices. But first the Restroom. Take the escalator in front of the New York Transit Museum. At the bottom of the escalator-left is the women’s, right the men’s restrooms. The restrooms at the other end are being renovated. Usually there’s a line for the women’s room, but it’s fast. (Of course, we all know no one has ever seen a line for the men’s room. Oh, well.)

You probaby don’t know at this point what you want to eat. Check it out. Take in the array of enticing foods. The many places to sit. Don’t worry someone is always getting up or sitting down. Chances are by the time you have your food someone will be getting up.

Can’t decide? Want to confuse yourself just a little bit more? The famous Oyster Bar& Restaurant is very close to where you are. Look for the sign. Found it? You’re getting good. Open the doors, to the right is a sit down counter where you can be entertained watching oysters being shucked, soup being made-perhaps a stool is waiting for you. Like coffee shop style? You can choose to eat at one of the circular counters nearby, or check out the Saloon. To the left of the entrance where you came in is the informal dining room. Perhaps you want to sit in the lounge between the two sections, sip a drink, talk to the bartender-take in the scene. If you find the Oyster Bar&Restaurant doors closed, it must be Saturday or Sunday. One less decision you’ll have to make, but do return during a weekday. There are more restaurants, upstairs and downstairs. Whatever, wherever you choose; it’s all good. There’s more, but you’re going to find that out for yourself. Don’t rush. Never rush. It’s not good for the digestion. Check it all out, pay attention to the signs and you’ll be just fine.

Pace yourself, enjoy. Grand Central Terminal – it’s a grand old building.
www.grandcentralterminal.com

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it can get complicated

I don’t talk about politics anymore. Do you? In the past, I’ve noticed people walk away from me after a conversation where opinions were flying. I had a nagging suspicion they were doubting my sanity, but not theirs. No, not theirs. I do wonder whether someone out there knows anything about that most complicated of subjects. The question is: how to have an intelligent conversation having so few facts, but believing that somehow we know what’s going on. So, I made an agreement with myself to keep my mouth shut. Bill Maher can talk all he wants. Not me.
www.billmaher.com

I’m doubly damaged, in this area, because of a few books I’ve read. They’ve confused my thinking beyond a reasonable doubt; never again will I see the world in quite the same way. I realized one day, however, that that was okay. It doesn’t have to be what it once was. If I can manage to keep quiet, and nod my head every so often so that it seems I’m attentive, I’ll do just fine.

The first book that lead to doubts about my sanity after reading it was THE BIGGEST SECRET by David Icke. And there was another, RULE BY SECRECY by Jim Marr, and all those magazine articles that keep calling to me. It can get complicated, but then again dabbling is fun, and tends to greatly open the imagination.
www.davidicke.com

This world is full of possibilities, and, for some of us, keeping it simple is the best way. Paying attention to the possibilities in one’s own life, and making it a superb life, can touch people, and affect the world in ways not imaginable. Then when one’s own life is in exquisite shape, we’re then able to look at the world with clear eyes, and make wise decisions about how to best serve it.

“Silence is the key that unlcks the vast resources of the universe.” -Venice Bloodworth

“Everybody thinks of changing humanity and nobody thinks of changing himself.” -Leo Tolstoy

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aunt irene

I have an aunt; she’s the last living relative of her generation in the family. We, who claim her as a relative, absolutely love her. There’s a zest about her that never falters. She’s in her 80’s and doesn’t seem to know her age. No one has heard her complain about getting old. When the phone rings and she’s invited out – out she goes – no matter the time or place. Of course, you must know from this description of her that she laughs a lot.

She’s goes beyond the arthritis that grips her legs and hands, beyond the macular degeneration that’s left her “legally blind” and has taken away her driver’s license. In her early 80’s she was still driving, and was one of the best drivers of anyone I know. She once said that if she couldn’t drive she didn’t know what she’d do. It’s happened. What’s also happened is that there’s never a lack of people calling to take her out. Shopping? Swimming? Dining? Siteseeing? Visiting? Out she goes.

A few years ago, Aunt Irene found herself at an alternative healing place. The tests showed allergies. Oh, no. The tasty comfort foods (we all know what they are) were replaced by the “other way” of eating. You know, none of. . . and lots of. . . . After the initial shock of cleaning out kitchen cupboards and refrigerator, and looking at a restaurant’s menu with new eyes, Aunt Irene once again got into the flow. The bonus was that in eliminating the wheat she was allergic to, she lost lots of weight. Nice after all. What else is there to say about her? It’s this, it feels right to have Aunt Irene right here with the rest of us. If anything happens to people in Aunt Irene’s life, they’re automatically put on “top priority” of her prayer list. There’s great respect for that prayer list, and the woman who says the prayers.

Yes, she simply does what’s before her to do, and she does it so well.

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a baby’s way

Have you had a chance to spend time with a baby lately? Babies can teach us a lot. You’re saying, what can a baby possibly teach? I have a little list. Recently I spent time with Sebastian, my grandchild. One thing babies have is enthusiasm. Every time someone enters Sebastian’s room to get him in the mornings or after his naps, his little body gets so excited. He struggles to stand up to meet the one coming, he smiles broadly, even though he’s teething and drooling, he raises his arms in delightful anticipation – eyes twinkling. There’s no doubt in his mind that the person coming is coming for him. Relationships would change overnight if all greetings were as trusting as a baby’s.

Speaking of trust, babies in their innocence embody this. Anything they try to do requires great trust. They don’t analyze whether they can or can’t, they just do whatever they’re struggling to do. I have a sneaking suspicion that, once upon a time, we human adults were like this until we began mistrusting our feelings and our abilities. Babies can show us again how, when we learn to trust ourselves, we can accomplish what we want. The word struggle comes to my mind when watching Sebastian, but I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t see it that way. What looks like struggle to us when watching a baby is simply them in a state of doing, of learning, of accomplishing. So perhaps we also have to eliminate words that have a negative tone and simply do. Babies fall and hurt themselves. But they pick themselves up, and without the ability to question, it never occurs to them to not try again. Again and again they do whatever it is they’re concentrating on until finally they’ve got it. They don’t ask is this something I can do? What a state they’d be in if they had the ability to second-guess themselves as we adults do.

What else can babies teach us? Well, watch a baby and you’ll see unconditional love in its purest form. There are no judgments on a baby’s face about the way you look, only happiness at seeing you. Spend time with a baby and you’ll see.