OH DEAR, OH DEER!

Guess who I found in my backyard a couple of days ago...amazing animals I have to say.  Last fall, though I never caught them in the act, we realized how many plants they love to nibble on.  So we searched for an animal and environmentally safe product and found a spray which seems to be working so far.  It doesn't stop animals from showing up in our backyard, which is not what we want, but at least they don't nibble on the plants/flowers we want to preserve...especially after just buying them.  It seems some animals, especially deer, don't care for the smell of rotten eggs, garlic and lime juice put together.  Can't say I blame them. 

 

FLOWERS IN MY GARDEN

I'm so happy with my choice of bulbs, they are really coming along spectacularly.  Though I will miss them when I eventually move to Canada (hopefully, crossing my fingers).  I need to do further research, but I know there are some restrictions into Canada from the U.S. when it comes to plants.  Understandably so.  In any case that's ok, as a first time gardener this has been a wonderful learning experience.  And will only help me get ready for the next garden.  And who knows, I may be able to find them out there?  In any case, I'm enjoying them while here.

ANGELIQUE DOUBLE LATE TULIPS

 SUNLOVER DOUBLE LATE TULIP

 



SPLIT CORONA NARCISSUS

I Remember You

My memory sometimes works in odd ways.  I'm sure I'm not unique.  To others I often seem to remember the most obscure, insignificant details.  I often remember incidences which have nothing to do with me...and yet they do, and yet they don't...but I remember them nevertheless.

I was on the train last week looking at these photos on my phone.  A particular variety of tulips newly sprung in my backyard.  I picked and planted these bulbs because they were not the traditional kind, at least not to me.  They looked more like roses.

 

 

They are called Angelique, double late tulips.

The intensity, perfection of their beauty suddenly brought back a memory.  A memory at least twenty years old, and no more than five minutes long.

Going to meet some friends, I boarded the #4 train at Grand Central Station in New York.  I was only going as far as one stop.  The car I entered was relatively empty, and sitting across from me was a woman.  If you asked me what she was wearing I'd have to reach far back to remember, and even then I don't know if I could with any certainty.  I do recall a brown pouch, with its long strap across her chest.  A woman perhaps in her late 30s, early 40s, with short black hair, olive skin and dark brown eyes. 

I sat, the train doors closed and within seconds she slipped her hand into the pouch.  The sadness crossing her face in that moment was indisputable.  She placed an already opened envelope on her lap, and gently pulled a letter from within.  I followed her gaze.  By the third line, a deeper level of sadness surfaced.  She began to sob.  She brought her hand to her lips, but could not contain the powerful emotions.  So powerful I looked away, embarrassed.

Why was I embarrassed?  And for whom?  I've received the same reaction from others when I've shown this level emotion.  As if there's anything wrong with crying in public...as if there's anything wrong with crying.

Truth is I couldn't stop watching.

With her hand still on her lips, she shook her head.  Twice her head fell back, then realigned as she continued to read through now muffled whales.  I watched placing my hand on my chest, overtaken by the amount of pain I was witnessing.  She managed to fold the letter with one hand, place it on the envelope, and slip them both back into the pouch.  Was it the loss of a parent, a child, a lover?  I will never know.  She held her gaze on the pouch.

I wanted to quietly, gently, offer her my hand, but I was afraid she'd run away.  At such a moment, I know, a gentle hand could feel unbearable on ones skin.

My stop was quickly approaching and I did the only thing I could think of: I stood up, simultaneously pulling a small pack of tissues from my bag, and balanced them on her left knee.  Surprised, she looked toward me and managed an almost inaudible thank you.  Traces of salt now on her cheeks.  I turned, got off the train and walked down the platform, but not without wiping my own tears on my sleeve.

Conversations over dinner that evening were just background noise.  In front of me, cold food sat as I recalled the encounter.  I realized later what I really saw when I first sat down in that train car, was a woman desperately trying to hold on to her composure, until she couldn't.  I also realized, we were the only two people sitting on that end of the car.  A moment that was just meant for her, as much as it was just meant for me.

What was it about these tulips that brought back that memory?  I was stunned by the tulips, I found them to be quite striking.  Their beauty, assaulting.  And perhaps that's it?  On a similar level, that woman's emotional rawness, pureness, dare I say beauty, stunned and assaulted me. 

Whatever it was, I know today there is more life in one minute than most of us are aware of.  The catch is to remember this, and be present enough to see it.  I didn't board the train that day, expecting to see so much life.

Narcissus & Other Friends

I spent the day planting, moving things around.  It was a cool day but the sun was perfect, warming us all.  Us?  Well yes, my hubby was there moving the heavy stuff, but I'm talking about someone else.  These sweet Narcissus.  They survived the winter and are now stretching up to the sky, slowly reaching their bloom. As did others...

Pansies: many huddled remind me of the olde barbershop-quartets.

But these I bought yesterday...fell in love immediately and had to bring them home.  They're called Borias Koppe Begonia - or - Rhine Begonia.  I find their soft, pale cream/pink to be quite Victorian.  They are fascinating and gorgeous.  I don't understand why they have to be  annuals, instead of perennials...sigh...such is life.  I want to be near them all the time, and just stare...a cup of tea in hand, and some 1930s/40s instramental tune in the background.  Nostalgic?  Perhaps...it was an intense week.

THE CREED I BELIEVE

I believe the first language of my senses is art.
I believe art triples the oxygen in my lungs and heart.
Do I not deserve to breathe this much?

I believe when I create, I choose to give my suffering space too.
I believe when I make art in a field, nature and my-self breaks all bondage.
I believe the strength of my artistic rainbow, can be a rainbow in someone else’s life.

I believe as a child-less woman, I have to give birth to art.
And save my sadness in a mason jar for another day.
I believe my hours are my gift to art.



 

VISITING: A Poem

It's been far too long

A few months ago
I found compassion
again

Today I will practice not to
                                                                                          dislike

Sometimes we need the dead
To talk us off the ledge

 

SUNDAY GINGER CHICKEN

A delicious and quick recipe, so let's get to it....

Ingredients:
1-2 inches piece of ginger (cut in small slivers)
2 Tbsp fish sauce
1 Tbsp molasses
1/2 Tsp soy sauce
1 1/2 Lbs boneless chicken thighs
1 Tbsp. olive oil (use 2tbsp if your chicken shows zero signs of fat.  Mine had a little fat.)
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 large shallot, chopped (if your shallots are small use 3, if not, use 1. Trust me it will be enough.)
1/4 cup water

Preparation:

In a large bowl combine ginger, fish  sauce, molasses and soy sauce.  Mix well until you see the molasses has watered down.  Then cut the chicken into cubes (small-medium so you have a variety).  Add the chicken to sauce, making sure the chicken is well coated.  Let chicken marinate for at least 20 minutes (overnight is good but not necessary).  While the chicken is marinating, cut your garlic and shallots.

In a large pan (or wok), heat the olive oil and soften/slightly brown garlic and shallots.  Next, spoon out the chicken from the bowl and add it to the pan.  Keep flame at around medium.  If you have an excess of marinade sauce in your bowl, reserve it until the chicken is partially done.

Once the chicken is partially done, add the remaining marinade to the pan along with the 1/4 cup of water.  Cook chicken evenly, stirring often.  Watch your flame and if need be lower it - you don't want to dry out or burn your chicken.  Once your chicken brown a little and your sauce thickens, sprinkle in some brown sugar.  Literally just a pinch or two.  Don't over sweeten.  Keep stirring for another 5-8 minutes, then serve over jasmine rice with steamed vegetables of your choice. 

Any questions, don't hesitate to ask.  Enjoy!

SUNDAY PECAN PIE

Thank you Native Americans for introducing us to the Pecan.

I give you my first serious attempt at pie.

Yum. 

 

Tai Chi by Chen Man-Ch'ing

One of the most beautiful videos I've seen of Tai Chi  http://youtu.be/vsDPy7zMrA4

Professor Cheng Man-Ch'ing

http://chengmanching.net/

 

Of all the modern Tai Chi masters, none have had the impact of the late Cheng Man-Ch'ing. As a child growing up in China, Cheng suffered from a chronic lung condition and a local doctor suggested that he take up Tai Chi to remediate his condition. Cheng proved so good a student that he not only learned Tai Chi, he also cured himself of his illness through his practice.

In many ways Cheng was a prodigy. He grew up to become renowned in his own country as a master of the "Five Excellences": painting, poetry, calligraphy, medicine and martial arts. When one considers the vast learning and diligent study it takes to master even one of these disciplines, Cheng's achievement becomes even more remarkable. His skill as a physician was said to be particularly uncanny and it is in this capacity that he was brought the the attention of Yang Ch'eng-Fu, the standard bearer and lineage heir to the great Yang Lu-Chan, founder of the Yang Family Style of Tai Chi. It seems that Yang's wife was extremely ill and the most prominent doctors had had little success trying to find a cure for her illness. Yang had heard of Cheng's reputation as a doctor and he agreed to examine her. Cheng was able to successfully restore MadameYang to health and in gratitude, Mrs. Yang persuaded her husband to accept him as a Tai Chi student. Cheng studied daily with Master Yang for years, enduring many hardships to learn the art. Although he later rose to become a great master of Tai Chi himself, Cheng, in typical modesty, always denigrated his own skill with respect to his teacher's. "If Tai Chi was a human body," he was fond of saying, "all I possess is the thumb. My teacher (Master Yang) has the whole body!" No small praise from this highly accomplished individual.

After an illustrious career as a physician, senator and martial artist in Taiwan, Professor Cheng emigrated to the U.S. where he ran a large Tai Chi School in New York's Chinatown section. Much to the detriment of us all, the old master departed this life on March 26th 1975, but his legacy lives on through his poetry, his painting, those he healed and those he taught.

Live The Questions...

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart
and try to love the questions themselves ...
Don't search for the answers,
which could not be given to you now,
because you would not be able to live them.
And the point is, to live everything.
Live the questions now.
Perhaps then, someday far in the future,
you will gradually, without even noticing it,
live your way into the answer.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

 

The Guidance Of The Still

Patience is related to authentic spiritual courage. It is deep faith that the universe is unfolding as it

should, even when things are not happening

according to our own plans or timetables. All we

can do is act with integrity, in accordance with our priorities and the guidance of the still, small voice within.

After that, we must surrender all attachments to the results.

 

From Pocketful of Miracles

     by Joan Borysenko, PH. D