Chef

I’ve learned a lot from watching cooking shows. More than simply how to cook, that is. There are so many reasons I’m drawn to them. I enjoy watching people use their hands. Most especially to create or build or fix or heal. All four of which are a part of preparing a good meal.

Great chefs understand that cooking is soul work. Sure, there are some ornery bastards. Some colossal egos. Tempers flare. I’ve never known any creative area where these issues didn’t arise. More often, what amazes me about the community of chefs is the way they collaborate. And while they may be highly critical, most also seem willing to submit their own cooking to the same scrutiny.

Cooking is hard work; busy, relentless, and consuming. You have to maintain your health, keep your energy levels high, and commit your whole self to the process.

Master chefs have a devotion to growth, learning, experimentation, and change. They fail and head right back to the pantry. It seems that each of them had a devastating setback in their lives; a fire, cancer, bankruptcy, a second fire; and yet, they persist. In fact, most chefs mark these traumatic events, that might have taken the heart of others, as a catalyst for transformation. You could say that they discovered their unique genius only after, or because of, a personal catastrophe.

Lately, an acute attention and appreciation for the local environment play a key role in fine cuisine. I deeply admire the move to incorporate not only local farms and produce, but to explore and forage, with respect and restraint, our seas, meadows, and forests. The artistry with which they incorporate these natural elements is, often times, astonishing. It also strikes me as ancient and witchy.

Cooking is an intriguing mix of science, art, skill, and attention. An alchemy of the senses. But, a crucial, though often unnamed component of cooking is time. Time and I are often at odds. Usually this is when I am ruminating on the past, or anxious about the future, or freaking out because it is passing so doggone quickly. Never is this more apparent than when I try to make an egg. I know first hand why this is the magical test of most chefs. You have to have ALLLLL your shit together to prepare a proper egg. And then it is a focused dance for the following three minutes or so. Artists create egg dishes with effortless elegance and keep a tidy kitchen, to boot. Not so in my kitchen.

The Zen Buddhist nun, Jeong Kwan, uses time expertly in preparing her temple food. Kimchi is created and harvested precisely when most nutritious and delicious. She plans and prepares healing vegan meals according to the seasons and cycles of her temple surroundings.  She then presents them with exquisite artistry.  We could all learn from her generous, humble offering.

In one way or another, I see great chefs as examples of mindful living. They are beholden to the gifts bestowed in their home place and as interpreted through the work of their senses, imagination, and hands. This is a calling. A calling that all of us have the opportunity to answer and practice on a daily basis. We can demonstrate our love for others and this beautiful, bountiful world by cooking healthy, tasty, well planned and attentively prepared food.

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One of my favorite chefs as photographed by: John Hardwick

Attention

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Photo by: MagsBlackDetroit

“I have wonderful news! … This is wonderful news you want to hear,…You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments that you cannot even imagine yet!”

Anybody who has read, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green probably recognized this quote. IMHO, The Fault in our Stars is an exquisite book everyone should read. Hopefully, before you see the movie. Although I love movies, books are always better. You get to dive deeper. You get to live inside the characters. Reading calls out a different form of attention than watching. And, attention is my theme for today.

Although I will not ask you to “Pay Attention.” I never liked that phrase. Probably because of the word pay. I don’t like to pay for things. Not because I am cheap, at least I hope not, but because of the obligation behind it.

So instead I will ask you, as a favor, to please, give me the kindness of your attention. For truly, there is no greater act of generosity you can do than offer your full attention to someone.

As I wrote at the beginning, you are going to live a long life, with great and terrible moments…”What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” The poet Mary Oliver, another great writer, asks this question in one of her poems. And she answers her own question in another poem. She says, “Instructions for living a life: pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.”  

John Green  would agree with Mary Oliver’s instructions for living a life. In a different passage from The Fault in Our Stars, he writes, “I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is improbably biased toward the consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed.” He tells us that the real heroes are the people who notice things.

The Buddhist philosophy is founded on mindfulness. The Dalai Lama describes mindfulness as kind, loving awareness or attention without judgement. It isn’t easy. Especially now when we have so many things to keep us distracted. Which is why we have to practice it. Practice mindfulness. Practice being attentive and letting go of judgement and our need to make something good or bad.

There are few absolutes in life, few things you can be certain about but I know this to be true in my heart, whatever you give your attention to will be transformed by it, will grow from it. And YOU will grow from it. If I asked you to become aware of your breathing…without asking you to change it,  just by bringing your awareness to the breath, it will deepen. The same can be said of how you sit, or how you listen, or look…once you give your attention to that moment you will see that you actually need to try harder NOT to make it better. This is the heart of meditation. Mary Oliver again says, “I do not know how to pray, I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to stroll through the fields.”

So whatever you want to do with your one wild and precious life, whatever that is, it will be richer if you give it, or practicing giving it, your full attention.

St. Thomas said, “The reward for patience… is more patience.” The same is true of attention. The more you practice attention, shifting your awareness, the more you are able to practice it. And how do you do that? Set the goal or intention each day that you will give attention to some area of your life. Something small. Something near you. Maybe you will give attention to how you breathe, or what makes you laugh, or the words you say, or perhaps you will do your best to look at the sky and feel the sun on your face.

Because life is full of both great and terrible moments, there will be many times in your life practicing attention will demand courage. But, I still believe, with all the love in my heart, that the mind is powerful and the focal point of our thoughts can be transformed. In the same way energy from the sun transforms life, or the pull of the moon affects the tides, consciousness radiates.

You will find the more you practice attention, the more you appreciate what is given you, now, in this moment. All that you need is here.  Truly, what better time to observe the universe’s elegance than right now?

The Gospel of St Thomas tells us Jesus said that the kingdom of heaven is spread on the Earth but men do not see it. Be the hero or heroine of your own life. See the kingdom of heaven spread before you. Notice the beauty and elegance of the universe in the moments you are given, offer your attention to your, “One wild and precious life.”

 

Wormland

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Photo by: MagsblackDetroit

Let me be clear, I wanted, still want, most of my spiritual teachers to be women. Preferably women who lived lives of struggle and significance and came out the other side with something to tell about. And indeed many of the finest writings, the most significant stories, that get to deepest places of my soul are by these powerful women. I’ve long resented the lesser role women have in religious life and the fact that there are so few who enjoy the spiritual gravitas bestowed on men. Lots of men. So, it was with great reluctance that Stephan Pende Wormland, a white guy, a German no less, Tibetan Buddhist former monk, found his way into my heart.

I am not a Tibetan Buddhist. Despite this statement, The Dali Lama has provided me with the closest definition of my abiding philosophy,  “Loving kindness is my religion.” It is that simple and that difficult.

But back to Mr. Wormland and why and how he became a force in my life even though I never met him and was conflicted about his maleness, his German heritage, and his patriarchal religious affiliation.  I learned of him through the Insight Meditation Timer App which I highly recommend. I liked his guided meditation so much that I decided to look him up online. Turns out, he offers his teachings and guided meditations for free all over the web. You can listen and download them on SoundCloud. Or, why not sit in on retreat on YouTube? Mindful Dreaming makes a great jumping off spot.

Life is full of surprises. These disruptions can be our greatest instructors. Many experiences, many people, many moments, will go into the distillation of my true self. And so I have learned, it is good to examine my biases and open up.

Full disclosure, I am not disciplined enough to watch or listen to everything Stephan Pende Wormland offers. But, I return to his guided meditations regularly. There is something about his pacing, his voice, and his use of imagery and metaphor that resonates. Like most Tibetan Buddhists I’ve met, he has a great sense of humor too. The clarity of the audio makes you feel as if you are in his retreat loft in Copenhagen.  Actually, I don’t know if he has a loft but I imagine the space to be large and open and several floors up from the street. So that, in the silent spaces between words you hear the canals, the footfalls, and church bells in the distance.

Wonder

 

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Photo by: canuckmom2013 Violet Awe

I would like to share with you two stories, three wishes, and an important secret.

I have always been a wonderer. I wonder about stuff. Constantly. Curiosity led me into many embarrassing predicaments. For example, when I was little I wondered if mothers to be got that way because they swallowed a watermelon seed. I wondered what would happen if I tried it. I knew seeds needed dirt so I ate some of that too. Then I sat in a sunny spot until I threw up. But this didn’t stop me from wondering if I could make my own gum. That brought the fire department to my house which is a longer story for a different day. I wondered what was in the glove compartment of people’s cars parked on our street. I was driven to examine the items the doctor’s cabinets and try to figure out what they did. Let’s face it, who doesn’t wonder about that?! I became obsessed with the idea that there were hidden rooms in every house and wondered what I needed to do to reveal them. Twist a knob on a mantlepiece, play a few notes on their piano, pull out just the right book from a shelf, and I was hopeful the floor would open up to a descending staircase leading to a chamber filled with magical samurai swords and dusty potions. I admit that I was influenced by the story of Anne Frank, my favorite book, The Secret Garden, and a fair share of Scoby Doo cartoons. Even though my nosey-ness often led to trouble, and I was almost always caught in the act, I never stopped wondering. I wonder about the word wonder. It can be a synonym for questioning or curiosity but also for awe, astonishment, luminous enchantment, and speechless reverence.

Recently scientists have studied the phenomenon of wonder, the speechless reverence awesome kind, the moments when we are stunned by the elegance of something in nature or life that humbles us and makes us realize that we are part of something grander than we ever imagined. What the scientists have discovered is that these moments change our lives in profound ways. The more often we experience astonishment, the less likely we are to suffer disease, the greater our personal happiness, and the more likely we are to want to contribute to the betterment of the world.

Rachel Carson wrote, “If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life.” I wish this gift for each of you. That’s my first wish. 

The first time I truly recall feeling a sense of wonder or awe was when I drove across the country by myself to start a new life in Los Angeles. I had everything I owned in a cruddy little hatchback and I was driving to the second largest city in the US where I didn’t know a soul. I had no job or place to live. It was risky but also thrilling. When I got to Arizona I came down with a terrible cold and the reality that I was headed into a very uncertain future alone began to take hold. Nevertheless, I decided to drive the two hours out of my way to see the Grand Canyon. I got there late in the afternoon. When you drive in the park you don’t see the Canyon. You have to walk to the edge. I will never forget it. As I got closer and the sublime immensity of what I was looking at opened up, my legs gave out. I fell to my knees. And I stayed that way for what seemed like hours because time stopped. My life was different after that. I can’t tell you about it in words really but Annie Dillard wrote, “We wake, if ever at all, to mystery.” And that moment and others I’ve been lucky enough to experience, mostly in nature, have felt like waking up…in a good way, not like with the alarm clock, but after a long, delicious sleep. So, that was the second story. And my second wish is that life presents you with mysteries that bring you to your knees. Many of them.

 

Socrates tell us that wonder is the beginning of wisdom. 

Einstein said, The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science.” 

Rilke wrote, “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” And, that is my third wish, that you learn to love and live the questions and when you find an answer, realize that this is not the end of mystery. Mystery is infinite.

I believe wonder and awe are a form of prayer. Wonder lets us see with new eyes. It connects us to the consciousness of the cosmos. Which leads me to the all important secret….Are you ready? You are the greatest wonder of the universe. Yes, you, human, sitting here in this particular body, with this unique mind and heart, in this moment in history are the greatest wonder of all the galaxies because you get to behold it all. There never was and there never will be another you who notices and feels and appreciates and hopefully loves the other wonders in quite the same way. So, open up and let it all in! Even the stuff that hurts or confuses you. Live the questions! Love the Mysteries! Or, as Dr. Suess says, “Think and wonder. Wonder and think.”

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Photo by MagsBlackDetroit

Disclaimer: This post originally appeared in the Eminent Tech Blogspot in April of 2015.

Spring

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Photo by: MagsBlackDetroit

For some folks it’s Passover. Others Easter.  For us, it’s porch sittin’ time.

Spring is here! Along with hopeful buds. Healing blossoms. Green, green grass and dandelions. No wonder the collective fervor.

And yet there is so much sorrow as well. Terror. Atrocities. Big men. Big egos. Bigger evil. Conflicts so ancient and twisted and complex I don’t know what to think anymore. How to help? And then there are the soul crushing issues in my own row to hoe. Prayer isn’t enough. I must DO something. But what?

My heart is so small
It’s almost invisible.
How can you place such big sorrows in it?
Look, He answered.
Your eyes are even smaller.
Yet they behold the world.
                    ~Rumi

Look. The goodness of this Earth is everywhere evident. Daffodils emerge from the thaw and offer their sunny vision.

Everything is everything. This winter was bleak. Days of gray on gray on gray. Ironically, it was not a good winter for snowflakes. Those of us left of a bleeding heart must hold our anxieties. Trust that the goodness of humankind will win out over the worst in our nature. Remind ourselves that while we are the same species responsible for creating the circumstances that put us within a psychopath’s whim of world annihilation, we also invented macaroni and cheese. It is difficult to fathom that people are capable of composing symphonies, devoting their lives or laying them down for others, and also crimes of war, crimes of privilege, rape. We produced Hitler and every despot compared to him. But Mother Teresa also walked amongst our ranks. Both wolves live inside us. Actually, an entire pack. Our choices of which hungers to feed will determine what results from this interesting time. 

And the outcome is beyond my control. Or yours.

What is in my control is the decision to feed my own wolves gratitude for the first Oberon of the season. To behold what is given. To smell the sweet Spring air. And be glad for the happy heart of my dog stretched on the driveway. Watch the neighbor kid play with his shadow in the rosy hue of sunset against the garage door backdrop. Listen to birds. Glide. Taste: The warming wind. The glowing green. The promise of lilacs.

Practice

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Technically, I am not a Buddhist. But I like a lot of their teachings. I share the Dali Lama’s core belief that, “Loving Kindness is my Religion.” However, I am profoundly human in my ability to live out that belief. That’s OK. The point is to practice. And I do. Sometimes more adeptly. Mostly, like a beginner.

Good Buddhists follow the Noble Eightfold Path. I think it is an excellent road map but like most religious texts composed long ago, not very practical for today unless you develop a personal interpretation. The Noble Eightfold Path is a sort of less bossy, more complex, Ten Commandments. Except that the Eightfold Path isn’t rules per say. More like habits or skills you practice. Like snowboarding or playing the tuba.

Of the Eight Right things to do on the Noble Path the one that presents the biggest daily challenge for me is Right Speech. We have a history, Right Speech and me. Issues!  I’m a blabber. A bean spiller extraordinaire! What’s more, I tend to embellish, hyperbolize, and add a spicy dash of fiction to my facts.

When teachers talk to parents about kids who are dishonest, we say, “They tell stories.” It’s gentle. “Suzy likes to tell stories.” Instead of, “Suzy will, balls out, lie to your face.” Like Suzy, I am a storyteller. Also a Ballsy liar on occasion. The things that have fallen from my mouth have often returned to drown me in an ocean of shame. They cost. Dearly. And so, I practice Right Speech.

Like any novice, I over compensate. For a long time I felt right speech meant I had to lay bare every bitter truth I encountered. Not realizing that the truth is a tangled mess of Christmas lights.  I over share. Over communicate. Natter. Confess. Enough, you get the picture.

So now, Right Speech is about practicing silence. Listening. Asking myself some hard questions before I speak, type, or text.

Questions like:

  • Why do I want to say this?
  • Will this cause harm to others or myself?
  • How can I say this best?
  • Is this the right time?

As you may have guessed, I only intentionally practice this once or twice a day. And mostly with others I know will be forgiving and patient toward my awkward attempts. The pauses alone are maddening. The false starts and jumbled metaphors, forget about it. In this instance, practice will never make perfect. I’m no monk. But the intention keeps me moving down the path, in my own time, with my own stumbling swagger.