Bite by Byte

Hmmm. I just reread the past four or five entries in Under the Forest Canopy to revisit topics I've addressed over the past several months. I'm surprised--and self-conscious--to discover the length of these entries.

Why? I ask myself. In this era of email, texting, and instant messaging why do I devote hours to my blogging when many people are perfectly happy to pound out a quick entry or text message and then move on with their lives? Why write out full, complete sentences when others are content to employ abbreviations and shorthand?

Since I don't own a Blackberry, cell phone, or other electronic device I'm not privy to the communication style of the day. R u? :-) The previous letters and symbol constitute the extent of my knowledge and understanding of texting terminology. And, I have to admit, it took me months to translate :-) or the more commonly used :) (Did I guess correctly? Are these a sideways version of the old smiley face from my youth?)

I'm beginning to wonder: Is the current mainstream culture too far removed from that of my childhood? Am I growing too old and cynical? Have I joined the generation that clings to the habits and behaviors of the past instead of encouraging myself to expand and grow into the cultural norms of the future?

Perhaps this is who I am: a person who enjoys taking time to think things through, who reads often and extensively, and who plumbs the depths of my thoughts, feelings, and spiritual aspirations. Perhaps it's okay to write long dissertations on the importance of sparks, freedom and exploration, or the need for a deep, abiding connection to the Earth.

Perhaps my blog offers me the opportunity to think and feel things deeply when the world around me ratchets up its speed to an inhuman and inhumane pace. Perhaps no one actually reads this blogging journey. And perhaps it doesn't matter because--just perhaps--this writing is for an audience of one: me.

I had two good, long, in-depth conversations with friends today via phone. Consequently I know there are others in the world who are interested in delving into the depths of the soul. Unfortunately the pace of the world is accelerating so rapidly that it's hard to imagine that many people have space in their lives for anything other than a wild rush to work, appointments, family gatherings, exercise classes, and even, vacations.

Since moving here Under the Forest Canopy time has become my friend. Without a myriad of friends and activities to distract me I prioritize my life around making sure to allow plenty of time for sleep, good food, exercise, and meditation. My life has distilled itself down into a simple formula made popular by various spiritual gurus: Be Here Now (Ram Dass) and The Power of Now (Eckhart Tolle), for starters. I've lived enough years and lived through enough experiences to realize that what really matters is being happy right now in the present moment.

Of course, in some moments coming soon (I hope!) I'll be happy to indulge myself in eating some Stuffed Grape Leaves (Greek Dolmades) that Frances and I made earlier this afternoon. I'll happily live in the moment, bite by bite....

Lean toward the Light

Speaking of sparks (see previous blog entry dated June 14, 2010) ... I just encountered another one while looking through a book that Frances checked out yesterday from the Bayfield library.

Roberta, the librarian, suggested Frances bring The Flavor Bible home because she thought Steph would enjoy it. She was right, of course. The subtitle reads: The Essential Guide to Culinary Creativity, Based on the Wisdom of America's Most Imaginative Chefs by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg.

The first page of this book contains a wonderful quote by Albert Schweitzer, printed just below a picture of suspended kitchen utensils: tongs, a slotted spoon, a ladle, and another unknown item dangle above these words as if to say, Words may come first but it is the art of cooking good food that deeply satisfies the hunger of the soul. Said Schweitzer:

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.

Too true! Often these creative sparks flash like lightening bugs all around me. If I'm not looking for them, or if I hesitate to instantly capture them for safekeeping, they inevitably float into the darkness and disappear. I've learned this lesson all too well as I've cast about for writing topics and then allowed life events or fear and uncertainty to paralyze my agile mind and its free flow of words or otherwise tame the burning glow of my writing.

A later quote in The Flavor Bible (p. viii) reads:

When we no longer have good cooking in the world, we will have no literature, nor high and sharp intelligence, nor friendly gatherings, nor social harmony.
                    --Marie-Antoine Careme, Chef (1784-1833)

As I've known for years, and as Chef Jehane Benoit (1904-1987) concurs, Good cooking is an art, as well as a form of intense pleasure.... (p. viii)

Back to Phyllis Theroux's book, The Journal Keeper, which I mentioned in my previous blog. I found Theroux's account of her life interesting, compelling, and deeply satisfying. This led to my later query as an on-again, off-again journal-keeper: If Theroux can publish a journal that inspires and motivates her readers, why can't I?

Actually, I am already publishing my virtual journal through a daily T'ai Chi Chih (TCC) blog, Rooted in Earth, Suspended from Sky. I originally intended for this blog to be like a circular New Year's Resolution: I'll write a daily blog if I perform a daily T'ai Chi Chih practice, and I'll commit myself to a regular TCC practice if I write about my practice every day. Amazingly, it works.

Both my T'ai Chi Chih practice and my writing energize and inspire me. Yet I soon discovered that these interlocking commitments accomplish something more: they provide me with a public obligation and commitment that I cannot ignore, I'm encouraged to read inspirational, thought-provoking writing in order to stimulate deeper thoughts and realizations about my practice, and--most days--I look forward to both my TCC practice and my writing!

Theroux's book has been enormously inspiring to me and part of that inspiration is due to the fact that she reveals a writing process and thought process that is similar to my own. In her final chapter she outlines her guidelines for how to keep a journal (pp. 274-75):

.... I am not a fan of those who urge you to dump whatever comes to mind upon the page. No, no, no. Your journal should be a wise friend who helps you create your own enlightenment. Choose what you think has some merit or lasting value, so that when you reread your journal in years to come it continues to nourish you.

     Some days I can think of nothing worth writing down. Fortunately, I am not alone. By my chair, I keep a small, revolving collection of essays, spiritual autobiographies, poetry, and other writers' journals to inspire me. When I'm out of fuel, they pull me out of the creek and into a broader, deeper river.... if you want your journal to have any lasting value, for yourself or others, I can only think of one rule to follow: Lean toward the light.

I'm leaning, Phyllis, I'm leaning....

I'm Just Walkin'...

Oh, life is an amazing journey! And I’m encouraged to discover that often all it takes is a good book, film, or personal story to spark my excitement and sense of adventure. There’s no doubt that one person’s travelogue can be the take-off point for another person’s leap of faith. And me? I’d happily slip into the shoes of either of those people.

I started a new book several days ago—The Journal Keeper, A Memoir, by Phyllis Theroux—and by page 21 I was at the computer with fingers to the keyboard. This book follows Theroux through six years of her life, 2000-2005. I knew that I’d be intrigued and interested in her story because it’s the story of a writer and details how she frames her life in the context of her thoughts, experiences, words, and inner wisdom.

After I read the following paragraph I closed Theroux's book and scurried into my office:

We are driven to deliver the truth inside us, no matter what we do to avoid or bury it. How to deliver it is the challenge. It is not just about using our reason although, like a diving board, we must use it to its limit, running to its very end. But then we must leap—like a spark—into the air. It is that spark that illuminates the understanding, makes the heat and the difference. (p. 20)

How could I resist Theroux’s argument and invitation to dive into my own writing, my own story, my own truth?

Today I read an article about Matt Green, a 30-year-old who is walking across the United States from Rockaway Beach, NY to Rockaway Beach, OR. Green quit his job as a civil engineer in NYC and set off across the United States in March with no agenda, no goal (other than to reach the west coast), and one overwhelming desire: to experience the landscape and people along his path with openness and appreciation.

Many curious onlookers have asked Green why? Is he raising money for a favorite cause? Does he hope to win a race or set a new record for the fastest crossing of the U.S. by foot? Either of those reasons they could understand. But Matt’s desires are simpler, less driven by the pursuit of tangible goals and more focused on an inner desire to experience life at its truest, most basic level.

Similar to William Least Heat Moon’s written record of his travels in his book, Blue Highways or John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley, Green is recording his life through the photographs he snaps during his daily adventures on the road. Interestingly, Green provides two reasons for this undertaking on his website, one short, the other long. His long explanation includes a quote from John Steinbeck’s book, Cannery Row, in which Steinbeck describes a character who loses a love and then sets off on a long walking journey across a number of states. When onlookers ask this lonely traveler why he’s walking he truthfully responds that he wanted to:

… see the country, smell the ground and look at grass and birds and trees, to savor the country, and there was no other way to do it save on foot. And people didn’t like him for telling the truth. They scowled, or shook and tapped their heads, they laughed as though they knew it was a lie and they appreciated a liar. And some, afraid for their daughters or their pigs, told him to move on, to get going, just not to stop near their place if he knew what was good for him.

And so he stopped trying to tell the truth. He said he was doing it on a bet—that he stood to win a hundred dollars. Everyone liked him then and believed him.

Green doesn’t require a reason for undertaking his cross-country walking tour, his motivation is a desire to experience life as it unfolds by watching the landscape as it flows around him at three miles per hour, footstep-by-footstep. Each evening Green stops at a farmhouse along his path and asks if he can pitch his tent in the homeowners’ yard. This request elevates his experience even more because, by relying on the goodness and generosity of others, Green creates community, builds understanding, and links the united states together in one long chain of communication and connection.

Though acquaintances have expressed their trepidation about Green putting himself at risk by traveling solo across our broad, diverse nation, he’s not willing to let their doubts and fears stop him. "Playing it safe isn't really that safe," Green concludes. "If you do that, you miss out on a lot of the great things life has to offer.” By quitting his job and leaving friends and relatives behind Green is learning how it feels to be truly free.

For a newspaper article and film clip detailing Green's travels, visit: www.dailygood.org/more.php?n=4137 Better yet, visit Matt's website to view his photographs and track his progress: http://www.imjustwalkin.com/

Deeply Rooted ... Again

So much for Cinco de Mayo. It's Siete de Mayo and right now, at this very moment, a combination of rain and snow are falling upon our roof and into our yard. It makes sense, then, that today I revisit a post I made on December 20 of 2009. In "The Link between Humanity and the Earth" I wrote about several books I was reading at the time, one of which, Deeply Rooted: Unconventional Farmers in the Age of Agribusiness, I quoted.

I mentioned that I would likely carry that book along with me to Baltimore while I visited my sister over Christmas. I didn't. There were just too many items to haul on my back and tote in my hands. I opted for thin, lightweight magazines as carry-ons instead.

I didn't finish reading Deeply Rooted until early March. It wasn't that I didn't like it but, rather, that it touched me deeply and I needed time to soak in the words, thoughts, and feelings of these farmers that Lisa Hamilton profiled. I keep a journal in which I record my thoughts and impressions about books I've read. Here's what I wrote about Hamilton's book:

     What a wonderful, encouraging, inspirational, educational, salutational read! Hamilton excels in telling the stories and highlighting the trials and triumphs of three very different farmers from three very different parts of the US: African-American Harry Lewis, a dairyman in Texas; Virgil Trujillo, a tenth-generation rancher in New Mexico; and the Podolls, two white brothers in North Dakota who are breeding new varieties of plants.
     I loved this book! though it took stamina to read. Truly, it is the story of my father and my father's father. It is the tale of farm families who are so rooted to the Earth, so spiritually sustained by the land that grew them, that they continue to search for ways to stay on that land and outlast--or outwit--the culture of corporate farms that seeks to plow them under.
     Hamilton is an excellent writer. She skillfully weaves together these diverse--yet similar--people of the Earth who speak up for a cause greater than money and no less vital than the survival of our Earth, her resources, and the survival of humanity.

I felt such gratitude that Lisa Hamilton was willing to take on such an enormous task that I sent her an email of thanks. I visited her website, http://www.lisamhamilton.com/, and wrote, in part:

     Thank you for being a voice for the people in the world who go about their work quietly as they raise our food and tend to the land. Thank you for reminding us that there are still farmers who do their jobs with a strong--dare I say, spiritual--awareness of the Earth that nourishes them (and all of us).
     Thank YOU for the work you do in the world, too, for without your words and pictures, your hours of listening and learning, following and questioning, and coming to know the ethics and values of these brave souls, agribusiness and the media might thoroughly convince us that there are no other options left in the world  of farming....

I was startled, and yes, surprised to receive an email in response from Lisa Hamilton some five weeks later which made me feel glad that I had taken the time and made the effort to convey my thanks. She concluded her email with these words:

I must also tell you that your timing was wonderful--uncanny, even. I received this during a period of muddy thinking, when I had become unclear or unsure of what I was writing about and why. Your words helped remind me that I already knew the answer--I already knew what really mattered to me--I just had to believe in it. So thank you for that!

I've read hundreds and hundreds of books over the years and enjoyed and cherished many of them. This was the first time I actually followed through and wrote an author. Lisa's response reminded me that we can all use a good word now and then as we offer our work to the world. I'm happy that my words made a difference to someone whose words made a difference to me! How's that for a "what goes around comes around" moment?

Mea Culpa

This blog entry has been a long time coming. Yes, my daily T'ai Chi Chih practice and blog have continued unabated but this blog--my initial courageous entry into the world of blogging--has suffered the consequences of my other writing obligations (even when I said I hoped/expected/anticipated that it wouldn't).

I think of Under the Forest Canopy often (in fact, every time I enter blogger.com to post my entry to "Rooted in Earth, Suspended from Sky"). Unfortunately, thoughts don't necessarily mesh with actions and, thus, I'm in the particular spot that I'm in ... acknowledging my lapse in entries here and now, hereunto, and herewith.

Much has happened in the almost-two months of absence from these posts. First and foremost among them, I was diagnosed with heart disease in late March and am currently spending much of my available time focusing on my health first and foremost. In addition to my regular daily T'ai Chi Chih moving meditation practice I now walk daily for one-half to one hour.

I've also extensively modified my diet due to high cholesterol counts and now eat mainly vegetarian foods (i.e., beans and rice) with occasional ventures into chicken and fish territory. As one of my long-time friends who has lived most of his life as a vegetarian counseled me: "Steph, become one with your bowl of rice." (Thanks, Doug.) I'm also trying a variety of new supplements to help regulate cholesterol levels as I am highly adverse to taking pharmaceuticals.

I recently wrote an article entitled "For the Love of ... Silence" that is scheduled to appear in a new book due out near the end of May as a fundraiser for the Bayfield Regional Conservancy. Its tentative title is "Love Stories of the Bay" and it should be available through blurb.com in short order.

Per the editor/coordinator of this effort, Ros Nelson, there are 40 authors and 115 pages of stories that range from love stories about people, Lake Superior, animals, a sense of place, the loss of love, children, friends, and more. I'm anxious to hold this precious little gem in my hands as Frances took the photo that accompanies my story and I know there are many talented writers and artists in this area who likely took part in this wonderful venture....

So, yes, I'm back ... in the saddle, at the wheel, on the keyboard, and here, under the forest canopy. It's spring and, sure enough, May is bustin' out all over. Birds are returning to our woodland yard, bear are bending over our bird feeder post and vacuuming the sunflower seeds from the ground lying beneath the feeder, the Eastern phoebes have changed the location of their nest from over our kitchen window to the south side of our house over the patio door, and yes ... my friends the ruby-throated hummingbirds should be appearing soon, perhaps even as early as this weekend just in time for Mother's Day.

It is a wonderful time of year because each and every day offers something new: a new bud or blossom, a different migrating bird returning to the feeder, tiny footprints in the dirt, or a vibrant shade of green bursting into view. Spring ... what a blessing to be born anew each and every year.

Art's Almanac

I admit: When I coulda' shoulda' woulda' been writing my own blog under the forest canopy, I was reading someone else's. That person also lives in Bayfield and writes daily entries at http://artsbayfieldalmanac.blogspot.com/. His most-recent entry appeared March 1 and he admitted then that he didn't know whether there would be additional entries until he and his wife, who are visiting family and warmer climes, return to Bayfield near the end of March.

The Art in question is Art Ode, a 73-year-old semi-retired botanical garden and arboretum manager. He now lives in Bayfield, is a volunteer forester for the City, served on the Chamber of Commerce Board of Directors, and helped orchestrate the planting of innumerable daffodils (I'm sure he could tell you the exact number!) for the annual Bayfield in Bloom celebration from mid-May to mid-June.

Art evidentally started his initial blog as a link to the Chamber website. It gave out-of-towners an insiders' view of the local goings-on and included a daily report of the weather as read from various gauges and experienced during his morning dog walks. He also detailed the condition of the lake (as viewed from his home, I guess) and included information from various town events and outings as well as wonderful photos and stories about the condition of regional flora and fauna. Though simple--since life up here is relatively simple--it's brimming with descriptions of daily life in this lakeshore community.

From what I gathered reading through months of entries Art's blog ceased abruptly after his entry (entries?) were edited without any consultation with Art, the blog's author. Perhaps he took offense. I imagine I would have. Our words are, after all, an expression of who we are and what we believe. Art's Bayfield Almanac was birthed around the beginning of this year and, as I realized from reading it, blogs express the unique character of the person who spends time day-after-day before a keyboard laboring over them.... That personality and character doesn't always mesh with or represent our own which is why, in my opinion, it is all the more precious.

It's clear that Art and I have different political views and ideologies. But one thing we do share is a love of the land and its beauty and bounty. The South Shore of Lake Superior is a special place and Art succeeds in capturing its beauty through his words and photos and his willingness to venture into and onto the woods and waters that surround him.

Here are a few tidbits I gleaned from Art's blog: the fog that I described hovering over the lake in my February 21, 2010 entry "Smoke on the Water" from my Rooted in Earth, Suspended from Sky blog is known as "lake smoke." He wrote that this is caused by moisture rising into the frigid atmosphere from warmer water; it later returns to us as lake effect snow.

Since I don't read the local newspapers I also discovered via Art's blog that Ashland, WI now has a Border Patrol office. It's a bit bizarre since this Great Lake Superior provides a tremendously wild, wet, and dangerous buffer between our area and the nearest foreign country, Canada. But now, at least, I can consider myself an informed citizen.

Art describes several curmudgeons who inhabit the area and expresses delight in the fact that they have no fear of being themselves and, as a result, the City of Bayfield and the entire area are all the better for it. I have a feeling that Art would be proud to include himself among their number and I'd venture a guess that he's well on his way to joining their ranks. Take a gander at http://artsbayfieldalmanac.blogspot.com/. I highly recommend it.

Smoke on the Water and Fire in the Sky

I watch a double sunrise this morning. First, a pink ball of light rises over the horizon and ascends into a narrow strand of clouds and then a circle of shining white light emerges from the clouds that hover just above the edges of the Earth.

After the initial pink sunrise a stream of light lays itself down across Lake Superior's water and ice (it looks as though there may be both from my view out the living room window) and gleams straight toward me. I'm reminded of Frances's and my trip to Central America last winter when we watched sun risings over a warm water Caribbean Sea.

I continue to move through TCC practice as the sun rises ... a pure white circle of light with a rose pink aura around it. Near the end of practice I glimpse the lake again. This time there is no ice, no water. It looks like a thick fog or smoke covers its surface; clouds in the sky, clouds in the water. (Did the heat of the sun meeting the coolness of the lake's surface cause this reaction?) It reminds me of Deep Purple's song released in 1972 (am I dating myself?), Smoke on the Water.

My movements are less carefree today, more stiff and crinkled. But it feels good to emerge from sleep into wakefulness with the sun brightening the way....

I'm watching my t'an t'ien more these days ... literally. Since I tell my students to lead with their t'an t'ien and Sr. Antonia reiterated this command over and over again at the TCC retreat, I'm noticing how t'an t'ien leads me forward and back, up and down.

Justin Stone teaches that you can tell how relaxed a TCC practitioner is in their practice by how relaxed they are in their wrists and waist. I'm struck by how much waist/t'an t'ien motion there is even in the simplest of movements, Bird Flaps its Wings, for example.

How does your t'an t'ien move? How much does your t'an t'ien move? Watch it ... and be surprised.