It’s about thyme this time…

Asparagus. Mushrooms. Some white wine. Israeli cous cous. Some butter. Some vegetable broth. Some thyme.

18 months since my last post. What brings me back? Inspired after a lovely hour in the kitchen preparing a faux risotto based loosely on a recipe from Mark Bittman’s “How to Cook Everything Vegetarian.” It was mind alteringly delicious. Why? I had fun. I got lost in the creative process. Most important, I followed my intuition.

Mark writes that some people want to cook but say they don’t have the time. “Some people even use cooking as a creative expression or at the very least a relaxing break in their day…If you get into cooking, you’ll love it and find it meaningful work. And then you won’t question the time spent at all.”

Ingredients I Can’t Live Without

My Boyfriend’s Love: Sweet. Surprising Seasonings. Abundant Laughter.

My Intuition: I didn’t include the carrots or the artichokes. I cooked on a medium high heat, not medium low. I added a 1/4 cup cream, not a 1/2 cup. I added no salt. I let the broth take care of that. I stirred every thirty seconds not every minute. I added more pepper. In other words… I was selective. I increased the intensity. I enhanced. I reduced. I gave in. I let go. I delegated. I followed my own tempo. I didn’t do what the recipe said. I trusted and honored myself.

The BEach: We have spent more time by the ocean. We hike. We picnic. We take photos. We nap. We watch the dolphins. We breathe the clean air. We relax. We just “BE”.

Dancing: I crave it. I love being in the music. I love getting lost in the rhythm. Learning new steps. Being stronger – physically, mentally and spiritually.

The Not Knowingness: Like the final result of tonight’s meal…you just never know how it’s going to turn out. If you look back in time…odds are, life exceeds expectations.

I added more thyme…and here I am again.

It’s about slow food this time…
Gather authentic ingredients on large plate, rinse and pat dry:
I am enough, next to, I can do anything, next to, I am so lucky, next to, I celebrate being of service every day, next to, I give and receive love, next to, I take care of myself and others, next to, I am awake and open to opportunity, next to, I create boundaries that support my creativity, time and health, next to, I do what I can to keep the earth healthy.

Add seasonings, start with a tiny pinch and add to taste.
This is very important. Making change, changing flavor, takes time.

You can take action and add a bit more.
Or you can change your opinion and adapt to the flavor.
Or you can accept it for what it is and leave it alone. Simmer. Stir. Cool.

Serve on a platter that’s red or seedling or baby blue. Vibrant colors add zest.

This is the time to savor what’s before you. Because you’ll keep it simmering, on a low heat, and eventually, it will evaporate or be gobbled up, whichever comes first.

For as long as space endures
And for as long as living beings remain,
Until then may I too abide
To dispel the misery of the world.
- His Holiness, the Dalai Lama

With closed eyes, it’s dark and there are thousands of letters swirling about, forming words, and then scattering again, forming ideas and then hiding or dissolving into mist. I wish I had a lasso to grab hold of the good ones. That’s what it’s like in here.

With closed eyes, I lift my head toward the hot sun, flashes of bright white, yellow and fuschia dance about leaving silver tails, leaving trails of even more ideas. I wish I had a way to hold on tight – to the right ones. That’s what it’s like in here.

With closed eyes, I hold my breathe and stretch, my right hand to earth my left hand to sky. I imagine the blood simultaneously flowing down and flowing up. So many directions to take. How do you know if it’s the right one? That’s what it’s like in here.

With closed eyes, I inhale and smile. Laughing, on a cellular level.

That’s what it’s like in here…

Henry Tanners, my dad’s best friend of 60 years, our closest family friend, has died after a year of fighting for his life.

During that year I only got to talk with him once by phone and he gave me what I needed…he always did:

Hi, Henry. It’s Ally
Hi, Ally.
Henry, I love you to the stars and the moon and back again.
I know. Ally, I don’t have to tell you that I love you because you already know. You feel it inside.
I know.

…and I do, I really do.

Henry gave something to the world – something so important…something we truly need more of…

Through his gestures, his tone, his choice of words, the smile in his eyes, let’s just call it, “his Henry-Deliciousness” – - he looked at you and it was like, BAM!, “I see you. I hear you. I’m curious about you. I GET you.”

No matter what, he made you feel like you mattered, and that in that moment — together –you were the most important person — not just to him, but to the World. I don’t know how he did it, but he reminded us that we are all Delicious.

In my heart, I knew that day that I may not have a chance to speak with Henry again. And, as hard as it was, and now is, I am truly ok. Because he knew me since the day I was born and he always loved me and I feel it inside…

Henry Tanners Saw Me and I love him and always will.

finger tips coated in orange-cheeto dust
a mass of titian curls in a hat box
sepia-toned photographs
in black tattered albums
memories resting on uneven bookshelves
Love-defying gravity

a box of little debbie cakes hidden behind a red tin box
a homemade christmas card with frayed edges
a wood carved ornament – see the remnants of green paint flakes?
the paella dish shaped like a fish
another bottle of flat ginger ale.

she’s talking to the plants
enriched by his ashes
see the vines growing up the walls?
like their love, eternal.

fourteen stories above
fireworks wrapped in ous and awes
millions of stories below
hustling to and fro
but here -
only truth.
only love.

the images flash quickly
a subconscious slideshow
thank god it hasn’t dissipated with age
thank god she happened to me.

the white gloves
the large brimmed hat

she’s behind me now
resting her hand on my right shoulder
as I write these words.

I feel the weight of her hand
I close my eyes
and enjoy the breeze

generated by her
angel wings.

Cole and Tony were each handed a helium balloon shaped like a butterfly. They proceeded to jump up and down and punch and kick their balloons (Note to reader: That’s what they’re supposed to do…they are little boys under three years of age.)

Unfortunately, just at the two minute mark, the balloons separated from their strings, floating up and up and up to rest against the cathedral ceiling. I observed the boy’s emotional reactions: first shock, followed by a bit of anger, and then lots of sadness accompanied by tears. Of course, this triggered consoling words from many grown ups.

Reaction such as this can inspire immediate action: 15 adults began to yell for a ladder – luckily, Grandpa Dan was the perfect man for the job. (Note to reader: Grandpa means “Here to save the day” in any language).

Tears streaked down Tony’s adorable face as he kept pointing to the rainbow colored butterfly. I watched as he leaned his head so far back that he almost toppled over onto the plush carpet. He stared at the balloon willing it down. The balloon didn’t budge.

Tony was having so much fun just moments ago. The balloon was a delight. It was his and it was shiny and it was new. In a blink of an eye, that incredible joy was gone. Moments before all the grown ups were smiling and laughing and enjoying his fun, and now none of them could instantly remedy the situation. While Grandpa dug the ladder out of the garage Tony stopped pointing at the balloon for just a moment and looked right into my eyes. Telepathic messages swirled out of his beautiful mind and connected with my inner child – below is an excerpt from that conversation:

Tony: Do you see it?
Ally’s Inner Child: Of course I see it, it’s shiny and colorful and it’s in the shape of a butterfly. It’s so nice! I like butterflies and I LOVE balloons.

T: I do too. It’s mine.
AIC: You can’t reach it?
T: No, look, [he points to the balloon, stretching his arm and body]
AIC: Try again. [Tony tries again].
T: It’s really far away, like in outer space.
AIC: Wow, that’s far.
T: It’s so far that even Mommy can’t reach it.
AIC: Wow. Well, if a Mommy can’t reach it then it’s really far.
[Tony looks around at the room full of relatives]
T: And none of these people can reach it either.
AIC: None of them? Not one?
T: Nope, I can’t believe it.
AIC: Sometimes people can’t reach the balloons in their life. Sometimes the strings just aren’t tight enough.
T: I KNOW, look! [Tony points again to the balloon]
AIC: It’s a metaphor – it means sometimes what we need is not within reach. Sometimes even people get sick and you can’t help make them better – no matter how much you will it to be so. Sometimes people will say and do things but they won’t feel like it’s enough. And as we get older we might notice that there’s not always an equal distribution of helium to keep things afloat.
T: What’s heeeelleeummm?
AIC: It’s a lifting gas.
T: Mommy says I have that after I eat spinach. I fart. Out my butt.
[Note to reader: Tony and Ally's inner child enjoy a laughing fit for a few minutes - transcription of Ha-Ha-Ha's omitted here to consolidate space]
T: Maybe they should stop making heeeelleeummm and balloons.
AIC: What? (AIC is shocked.)
T: If they can just leave you and fly away like this, then why even bother? One second I was happy and now I’m really, really, REALLY sad.
AIC: So…you wish you never got the balloon?
[Note to reader: Tony ponders this for a long moment (long in two year old time equals about 5 seconds).]
T: No, no I changed my mind!!! I changed my mind. I want it. I want it!
AIC: Even if it might cause you tears sometimes?
T: YESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!

Over the last couple of months my circle of family and friends have endured many surprises. Our days are full and fast and show no signs of slowing down. Every day we are faced with something we didn’t expect. The birth of twins. The loss of a dear friend. Another cancer diagnosis. A birthday celebration. An earthquake. A job promotion. An unexpected trip to the ER. Laughter with friends. A missing key. A dinner party. A headache. A great solution. An amazing movie. A lovely haircut. A great book. Yellow sunflowers in a vase. A great run. A cup of tea. A lovely phone call. A snow topped mountain. The perfect song. Chocolate. The perfect kiss.

Every day the elements bring us closer together.

Tony’s mommy secured the balloon string to his wrist….our spirits lifted together on butterfly wings.

Distraction. Say it slowly twice. It doesn’t have a pleasing sound. Emphasize the “tract”. Now, say it again. It’s first meaning, “A thing that prevents someone from giving full attention to something.” Dissssstttraccctttttiiiooonnnnn. I interviewed the word yesterday while doing the dishes…here’s a snipet of that interview:

Distraction, what do you think about how you sound?
I sound annoying.
That’s interesting because your meaning opens the door to letting annoying things happen.
It’s tough being Distraction.
How come?
ARE YOU SERIOUS? You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know why it’s tough being Distraction!!!!
Whoa, stop your yelling, no need to throw bubbles at me, I’m just an impartial reporter passing the time pretending to interview a word while I’m washing the dishes.
Ok, Ok, I’m sorry for my outburst, but get my meaning?
Yes, “A thing that prevents someone from giving full attention to something.”
No, not that one, my second meaning, the one folks choose to ignore.
I’m sorry, I’m not sure of your other definition.
“A diversion or recreation.”
Really?
Yup. Don’t get bogged down by my first definition, I relish my second…in fact, it’s the secret of happiness.
I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand you correctly…you are telling me the secret of happiness – the secret everyone wants to know – comes down to you?
Yep, Distraction.
Distraction?
Yes.
Stop being a wise-word, you are telling me the secret to happiness is being in a state of distraction or being distracted leads to a state of happiness?
Yes.
Do you have proof?
You want proof?
Yes, I want proof.
Read the rest of this entry »

Oh, let us turn our thoughts today
To Martin Luther King
And recognize that there are ties between us
All men and women
Living on the earth
Ties of hope and love
Sister and brotherhood
That we are bound together
In our desire to see the world become
A place in which our children
Can grow free and strong
We are bound together
By the task that stands before us
And the road that lies ahead
We are bound and we are bound

There is a feeling like the clenching of a fist
There is a hunger in the center of the chest
There is a passage through the darkness and the mist
And though the body sleeps the heart will never rest

(chorus)
Shed a little light, oh lord
So that we can see
Just a little light, oh lord
Wanna stand it on up
Stand it on up, oh lord
Wanna walk it on down
Shed a little light, oh lord

Can’t get no light from the dollar bill
Don’t give me no light from a tv screen
When I open my eyes
I wanna drink my fill
From the well on the hill

(do you know what I mean? )

- chorus -

There is a feeling like the clenching of a fist
There is a hunger in the center of the chest
There is a passage through the darkness and the mist
And though the body sleeps the heart will never rest

Oh, let us turn our thoughts today
To martin luther king
And recognize that there are ties between us
All men and women
Living on the earth
Ties of hope and love
Sister and brotherhood

-James Taylor

“Kabir tells us to jump, to break the ropes, to plunge into the truth. This is all you can do when you have come to the end of your rope, to the end of your strategies, and don’t know what else to do. It is a surrender, a falling in, not an act or initiative, but a willing acquiescence to what is so and has always been so.”

October
Started a new job.
A friend’s wedding in Mendocino.
A friend’s 100 Mile Endurance Run in San Diego
A three-day course on positive psychology in the workplace.
A trip to Los Angeles to celebrate a very important birthday for two very important girls.
November
For the fifth year in a row I participated in NaNoWriMo also known as National Novel Writing Month. I crossed the finish line at 1am last night. That’s 50,000 words in 24 days. How does it feel? IT FEELS SWELL!