imtalkinghere

Greek Easter

Today is one of those Sundays when Greek Easter coincides with "that other Easter" and I regret to admit that year again I flubbed the traditional greeting.

The Greek was already sitting at the table reading the paper when I stumbled into the kitchen. I was just reaching for the espresso machine when...

Greek:  Christos Anesti.

Me: Oh, right. That.

Greek: "That"?

Me: I'm sorry, how's that go again?

Greek: Christos Anesti. Christ is risen. Alithos Anesti. Truly he is risen.

Me: OK. Go again.

Greek: Christos Anesti.

Me: Alithos Anesti. 

... So many years, you'd think I'd have it down by now.  He  just sighed.

I need to remember this next Christmas when it simply doesn't occur to him to get me a present.

Swiss girl marries Greek boy.

 

Gotta love her

Hometown newspaper asks readers to let it know how they are keeping their hearts healthy. My 81-year-old mother responds:

On my father's side of the family, my grandparents and most of my aunts and uncles died of heart issues in their mid-sixties. I've surpassed their lifespan due to several advantages they didn't have. I learned to meditate in 1971 and made it a daily practice, an excellent means to diminish stress. I've never economized on vitamins and herbs, buying only from the most reliable companies. I dislike walking, so I work out at Curves, do Tai Chi, and get as much reflexology and massage as I can.

Knowing there is usually a mental and emotional component to disease, and especially heart disease, I lean heavily on two rules from the Desiderata: (1) Avoid loud and aggressive persons for they are vexations to the spirit and (2) Do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. That means I must monitor what I allow into my environment, so no Limbaugh, Beck, Coulter or Fox News within earshot. I listen to NPR, PBS, and voices of reason.

 

Birthing Her Music

Theresa Andersson says that early in her performance career she couldn't sing and play a tambourine at the same time. Talk about coming a long way!

                        

Bob Edwards

"Tell me about the video you made in your kitchen (two years ago)."

Andersson

"Oh, yeah. I made a video of the song Na-Na-Na in my kitchen because it was really difficult and exhausting to try to explain to someone what I do... it's hard to understand unless you can see it. So I put a simple video camera on my kitchen table and I stood in the corner with my set-up and I just did it. I put it up on iTunes purely so I could send it out to promoters and gigs and stuff like that. And then somehow it worked... a lot of people saw it... I didn't have to explain any more."

Bob Edwards

"How did you come up with this?"

Andersson

"It kind of started out of necessity. I was invited to tour Scandinavia... and I couldn't afford to bring a band, so I got my first loop pedal, because my main instrument is not guitar - To sit and play and sing with a guitar... I just thought it would be boring. It just wasn't my strength. I wanted to be able to incorporate more violin and more singing. So that's when I got my first looping pedal. -- I went over there and had a ball. I guess I discovered a lot about myself as a musician. Once I got it down, it just became part of my body. The combination of using all these electronics... it is a little bit like a dance."

Or maybe a lot:

Kurt Anderson

"Do things ever go wrong?"

Andersson

"Oh, yes! All the time."

Kurt Anderson

"Then why do a live mix each time? I think I'd be tempted to lock some in."

Andersson

"Now, where's the sport in that?!"

                                                                                               

Oh my. Oh my.

                                                                                           

Let's count just a few of the things to love in this story:

1. Necessity mothers invention. She is invited to return home to show her gifts.  Apparent lack leads, not to dismay (Oh no, I can't do this because I don't have what is the norm), but to creative-problem solving based on serving her strengths. Is this the way of wisdom or what?

2. Natural blossoming follows. She discovers that she enjoys her somewhat unusual solution and expands it to create her own unique form. Expansion requires  embodying. Awkwardness and accident transform themselves into a barefoot dance. Embodiment, that most feminine act: Body=Matter=Mater/Mother.

3. Continued pattern of expansion: a tight corner opens into the whole wide world. Once again, working with the simple means she has at hand, a low-tech demo (where words won't do the trick) in her kitchen's corner reaches a broad audience of viewers, and her career possibilities grow in ways she couldn't anticipate. Hestia would applaud the hearth metaphor here.

4. She embraces risk, playfully making welcome each unpredictable occurrence and "accident." This is the definition of aliveness. An artful discipline of giving each moment its due, because each one is a birth and birth is sacred

5. And when she takes the stage, is that a Celebration! or what?!                                                            

How shall we raise the Yin? Like this is how.

Ode to Joy*

Our friend Ahna (second from left) got herself a Girl Group!

  

*A new, recurrent feature here. Taking time to note things that just make me smile all the way through.

We are idiots here

Yes, it is official: idiots.

Recently, we've been having a lot of milk go sour. Granted, we don't drink a lot of milk - mostly just steamed for cappuccino or oatmeal - so it feels like it hangs around for a long time, but the milk was always turning before its expiration date. We changed where we located it in the refer. Still went sour. Altered the control to make the refer colder. Still went sour. I started having dark suspicions about carelessness at the neighborhood market. We bought our milk elsewhere. Went sour.

Then we started having oddities with the freezer side, and discovered a fairly huge block of ice on the floor of the freezer. The Greek said, "The door must have been left ajar one day."

"You don't get that much accumulation from one incident. That's been gathering there for some time."

"Well, there must be some problem with this refer's temperature gauge - between the milk issues and this. We'll need to get an appliance guy in here."

Last week,  there was an article in the Times about basic appliance care - necessary spring cleaning maintenance to keep everything functioning. Under refrigerator it said you need to vacuum the coils at least once a year. Single most important thing, it said. I read this aloud over breakfast as if it were about the discovery of a horse with fish tail.

"I've never vacuumed any coils," I said. "I never saw anyone vacuum coils during my entire childhood. I had no idea."

The Greek shrugged. News to him, too.

"How do you get to the coils on this one?" I asked.

"They are on the back."

"The article says something about getting under the refrigerator. How do we get under this one? Does that front plate come off?

He shrugged.

I mentioned it again this weekend. (Isn't this what three-day weekends are for?) 

Again with the shrugging.

A little while ago, the Greek arrived home from the food store. After putting things away, he came into my office holding something in both his hands. "Look," he said, as he approached my desk.

He seemed to have found a kitten. A kitten that was several months old, I'd say.

But as he came closer, I saw that it was a thick mound of dark sticky dust that overflowed from his two palms. He was working it as if it were a puppet.

"Look what I pulled out from the coils under the refer! ... As I was leaving the market, I ran into a guy driving a refrigeration truck. I asked him if he made house calls. ... He said, 'You really have to keep those coils clean.'"

So this GUY with his name embroidered on a striped shirt standing on a sidewalk inspired him  to action in a way that the New York Times and I failed to do.

Still... we are both idiots.

And I quote...

...or, is this Meditation On Love ...5?

On being born:

"It is love that brings me here, not karma, not patterns to work out, but love and the fact that I have love to give"  - David Spangler, The Call

Whew-boy - did my family ever get this one wrong!   But I'm scurrying to catch up now... to self-correct... to live the true thing.

Out this week

By which I mean like this...

 

(photo source unknown)

Meditation on Love ...4

(photo source unknown)

For the Greek, it is avgolemono* - egg-lemon soup exactly the way his Dad made it, which I have to say is the standard by which all avgolemono should be judged. If he's coming down with something, or it was a particularly dank day in his studio by the Bay, or an unfortunate run of life events have been a drag to his spirit, he is guaranteed to arrive home with a fresh organic chicken and a mass of Meyer lemons in his canvas sack. There could be (and has been) another chicken broth soup on the stove when he gets there, but that one will not do. Only the avgolemono will make a difference, and it always does make a difference.

His other go-to is sage tea - not any sage tea; the particular Greek sage tea his mother brewed. Here, the needs that cry for it are vaguer, and it seems to be more about holding the hot cup and breathing in its aromatic vapors than actually downing much of the stuff. This does not in any way diminish its transformative powers.

When I was little, the first food after a stomach bug was a soft-boiled egg over torn pieces of soft white bread in a bowl with salt and pepper on top. My great-grandmother made it for me the first time and it became the standard that put me on the fast-track to 100% better. But by the time I reached grad school that white sandwich bread had fallen off my list of actual food. Then I moved to California where artisan bread is plentiful, so I had not had the cure for decades until - about four years ago -  I came down with a miserable four-day stomach virus and sent my husband on an emergency mission to the local 7-11 for the dumbest loaf of white sandwich bread he could find - "Do they still make Wonder Bread? Does it even exist? If so, get that." I have to tell you, I was actually shocked at how thoroughly that little bowl of familiar put me into a beneficial altered state.

I started contemplating such remedies more deeply during a particularly difficult spell this winter, when avgolemono became a weekly staple here at the old homestead. The simplest, most obvious explanation would be to classify them as placebos. "It makes me feel better because I believe it will." Or... "The positive emotions I associate with this food come flooding back and bring me needed comfort."  But, based on recent observations, I would have to argue that we're dealing with, at minimum, Placebo-Plus, the plus being - more than memory and belief - an actual living energy field constructed in a relationship of heart and care and intention. And  while I'm at this, let me take this thing right over the cliff: recently, I was looking at the pretty canister I keep full of Greek sage tea as part of Just What You Must Do in this home and found myself wondering if this special relationship is why sage plants always explode into ridiculously enormous bushes virtually overnight in our postage stamp garden, while other plants struggle to maintain themselves in its low light and cramped quarters.

As I've pondered this notion of some unseen (by me... so far... but I'm working on this) energetic field created in the giving of certain nourishments, I started to experiment with weaving (or maybe it's really just acknowledging; this is where intention is a key element) my own awareness of energetic fields  in the receiving of nourishment. For the last few weeks, as I sit to eat - anything - I pause to love everything about its path to me: the original seed... the hands that planted it, or wind that blew it there... the soil... the rain... the people who tended it... the means by which it traveled to me... the store where we got it, the community that store supports... and more. It only takes a few moments to begin to feel a beautifully complex relationship of mutually-supportive energies among humans and nature infusing whatever is on my plate.

For me, this turns out to be a whole lot more powerful and empowering than the standard practice of asking grace. Most table prayers I have known come down to either "Thank you, God, for this food," or "Please bless this food," but in attuning myself to the energetic matrix that brought the food to me, I am aligning with grace, not just asking it. That energy seems to remain in the room as I eat.

If I maintain this practice over time, will my perception of this energy deepen? Will I notice a difference in nourishment? I'm curious to find out.

                                                         

* Closest recipe I could find to Dimitri's. But make sure you have a rich chicken stock, and maybe a little more lemon. Include some plain juice on the side to add in later as desired. With shredded tender chicken in the bottom of the bowl when you ladle in the broth.  Lots of fresh-cracked pepper.

And I quote...

                                                                      

"If you want it done fast, hire a clever lazy person."

                       - Kenny Brown, artist.

                         2 April 2010

Waters of March

 

 

I wrote the following to a friend recently:

I believe in paying special attention to synchronicities, agreeing with Jung that these can be  messages from the soul. That said,  it's been a long time since I've had such a pressing series of symbols come flooding at me.

Part of last week's adventure: A giant money screw-up. A mistake of the snafu order.  A computer glitch. An "oops, so sorry" that threw our bank balance almost three thousand dollars into the hole and was a mess to clean up. Don't you just love paying a $35 overdraft fee on a check for under $30... times ten? The good news is we both took it in good-humored stride...once the nausea passed. That was on Monday, or - as the Greek keeps referring to it - the Ides of March.

Then, on Friday, we got a door hanger that said our water had been turned off, except our water was on. Flashback: The Greek used to own this building with a business partner, and the water bill came in her name. When we bought her out thirteen years ago, we made a written request to change the bill over into our name. Nothing happened. We made phone calls. Nothing changed. We sent notes. Nada. Then, last October, we got a notice that said, "Hey, that lady doesn't have anything to do with your address! We're going to turn your water off!" - This led to multiple phone calls and emails and assurances that they had changed it to our name at last, with a confirmation number to prove it.  Then the next bill came in December... still in her name. This is when I sent the very serious registered letter, and got a written response from the Regional Director: "Everything good to go now." ---  So I call the water office and they say, "We turned off your water because we have no account for that address." - I explained the history, read to them from the Director's letter, and mentioned that actually our water was on, not off. -- So the rep on the phone sets up another new account, gives me a new confirmation number and says, "I'll try to get an immediate turn-on for you, so you have water tonight."

I say, "Well, like I said, we have water right now."

She says, "Well, I still have to order a turn-on."

The Greek comes in the door about two hours later holding a door tag saying they couldn't turn the water on because the meter showed that water was running in the house. I was probably filling the tea kettle at the time. And guess what: Now we had no water!!

Another phone call. They sent someone else back out. But.... weird, non?

Now for some general information about the state of our house: A few weeks ago the shower drain backed up - a first - and was a bear to unstop. The washer-dryer overflowed big time a while back for reasons we still can't figure out (nor could the repair man); then last week, as I started a load, I noted water leaking at the left side of the machine. It's something that comes and goes but keeps me nervous. The refrigerator at the front of the house makes weird sounds. Mr. Can-Fix-Anything says it's the condenser, but hasn't gotten to it. The front toilet has a tendency to keep running when you flush it; this is what we get for going for the Home Depot deal when we redid that bathroom. We really must replace it or its parts. There's more, but it borders on unbelievable.

On Saturday,  I did that divination thing where you pull one card from some kind of symbolic deck (Tarot, etc - there are so many different sets) for immediate guidance.   I pulled - you've already guessed, right? - WATER.  The Water Element: cleansing, communication, emotion, flow...

                               

Water. Water. Water. - And - HELLO! - think about the common language around money: Cash flow. Liquidity. Money laundering.  Drowning in debt. Pouring money down the drain. Going under. Keeping my head above water. Staying afloat. The funds dried up. When my ship comes in. Okay, maybe I'm going overboard (!) now. Oh, and let's not forget levy/levee.

And have I mentioned yet that my ankles are swollen?

                                   

A few days later, I followed up with this email:

Last night I had a dream that was, absolutely without question, all about FLUSHING.

Then, this morning, I went to FORA-TV to look for something to play while I sorted things here at my desk, and these were the top three talks listed:

• Scott Harrison: Water as Luxury; 900 million people lack access to clean H20, half of them are children

• Dr.Peter Wothers: Why Humans Need Water

• Greg Allgood: Making Water Pure.

Neener-neener, neener-neener (Twilight Zone theme)

                  

And the next afternoon:

Just turned on the radio - first thing I heard: A poet reading her poem about THE RIVER.

                            

Well, I mean, you know, GLUG.

This explains how I ended up drinking all this water and listening to water sounds and meditating on water as element and picturing myself just flowing...

I'll let you know when I catch something...when it all starts making more sense than those confounding and inconstant Jobim lyrics.

 

And - just for... ducks - I pretty much have to include this one  (<--! first link I found) too ... because we can't have Water getting the idea that I don't realize that she is pure feminine.  So in honor of the Yin thing that rushes at me and swirls all around...