After almost none all summer, now they’re ripening in abundance. I’ll roast and then freeze most of them to eat in the winter.
I attended yoga class by zoom this afternoon. We worked on the poses that benefit from attention to engaging the major muscle groups of the trunk. And we thought about acting from our center, and finding center so we can better act.
I’ve been living with blooms from bulbs since just before Christmas. The amaryllis in the vase is the third bloom from a bulb I bought at the beginning of January; the third stem got too tall, so I put it in a vase, so it would not topple over. The orchid I have had since it was about half this size and have been tending it by bringing inside and out with the seasons for over a decade. It has bloomed every February without fail. The paperwhites were a gift. I enjoy a little of the scent, but find the usual presentation of several flowers simultaneously overwhelming. I have brought them to flower one at a time. As soon as the bulb flowers (and inevitably needs to be propped up somehow), I have cut the flowers to put in a vase and started the next bulb. By the time the flowers in the vase have faded, the next bulb is budding.
The cherry blossoms — this is why I dreamed of cherries blossoming; I had them in my bedroom. In a previous post, I showed the nearly bare branches from a tree that had fallen in the blizzard. Although gardeners would call bringing the branches inside “forcing,” I wonder whether I really “forced” these blooms. What I did was take branches that would have gone to a landfill, brought them into an auspicious environment and invited them to bloom. This seems to me, not unlike using props in yoga: I might not be able to experience the full opening of a pose myself, but if I properly use props, I can expand what I can experience. It is not the same as doing it on my own, but it still gives me a different sense of the beauty that can be experienced, just like bringing in branches that otherwise would have fallen or need to be pruned into the house to reveal their glory in advance of the spring blooming outside.
The last photo is of dogwood and cherry that were on the side of the street two days ago (cherry tree down at the Japanese War Memorial); dogwood in a pile on the north side of the street in the 300 or 400 block of D Street, NE. Start your own blooms, there is more winter in the forecast. I am fairly certain from my previous experiment that the cherries will start blooming in a couple of weeks, but it remains to be seen whether the dogwood will want to open.
“It will make you both laugh and cry,” said Josh, who is a long-time neighbor and the proprietor of the newly re-opened West End Cinema, which is currently showing The Kings of Pastry. “I don’t think I will be crying just because a sugar sculpture breaks,” I responded with some skepticism. “Let me know afterward,” he said, and there the conversation ended. I needed to get seated, and he needed to help the next movie-goer.
What I found loveliest about the film — besides getting to surrender to the delicious sensation of being completely awed by the extraordinary technique exhibited — was that there was no competition in the sense of there being “winners” or “losers.” All of the finalists — I don’t think that this is a spoiler — could achieve the designation of “master” if they demonstrate their virtuosity as pastry chefs within a short period of time under intense scrutiny.
The movie, in revealing a little of what it can mean to have the talent, passion, and single-mindedness to seek to be a master of a craft, a livelihood, an art, invited me to reflect on when I have been tested and when I have wanted a certain achievement marked by an outer designation. Undergraduate and law school were highly competitive; by being ranked, excellence seemed to be prized not as much for how it would enable the students ultimately to be better able to serve society and themselves upon having developed a certain required level of mastery, but more for creating a ranking within that segment of society. The dance world, for me, also felt strongly competitive. With injuries early on and having developed the “wrong” body, I could not rise to the competition.
The support, encouragement, and mentoring of the pastry chefs in The Kings of Pastry — although clearly only a select few were finalists — highlighted for me what it can mean to strive for excellence without having it be structured by win-lose/pass-fail competition; it only makes the world of pastry better if more of the pastry chefs are true masters. In this regard, watching the movie led me to think about what it was like to work for Anusara yoga teacher certification in contrast to my earlier education. When I was working for my Anusara certification, the standards for achievement of the “goal” were still very high, but it was not about winning/losing or achieving/failing. It was a period of intense study, practice, learning, and humbling experiences. On being certified, I knew that the efforts to be certified were just the beginning. Part of the reason for being so deeply challenged to be certified, to meet the level of initiation (in Sanskrit diksha), was to see if we would continue studying and practicing at that rate out of love and deep commitment. It took going through the process and addressing all the old emotions and patterns of reaction and response that came up in the context of being tested to help me to start fully appreciating the difference between being in a competition and seeking the best we can be for ourselves and for others in our work and study. When I started to have a lived appreciation for the distinction it carried through to all aspects of my relationships in life.
Without answering them, The Kings of Pastry opened for our own contemplation the questions of what does striving for excellence or mastery mean for the one on the path and for those on the path with him or her? How does coming face to face with an obstacle when being tested or finding out that one has or has not received the public recognition impact the rest of one’s life, one’s sense of self-worth, and one’s relationships with family and friends? It was an sweet act of film-making to bring these questions to the viewer’s awareness in a way that is completely engaging and endearing.
Yes, Josh, I got a little teary-eyed towards the end.
First too hot, now cool.
It wasn’t until the weather cooled and the reality of a second week of work not being done that needs to be done to meet deadlines that the impulse arose to make the first batch of homemade granola of the season. This batch could be called maple nut granola with raisins.
Harvested last of the sweet banana peppers and a fire engine red cayenne pepper. Also picked as a baby one last eggplant before pulling the plant to make way for tat soi.
Most of the tomatoes I found on the ground still unripe. With a generous portion of red wine and nice herbs, and the traditional way of cooking them for hours and then running through a food mill, and then reducing until reaching the desired thickness, it won’t matter that the tomatoes ripened on the counter.
Assorted apples from the farmer’s market. Dried fruit is different when it goes into the dehydrator within a couple of days of having been picked and early in the season when the apples are best. An upside of being required to stay around home is that I have been able to experiment with the dehydrator that was a most generous birthday gift.
There’s a bunch of difficult stuff going on, but there is no need to write about it anywhere except possibly in my journal, for much of it. And as for the shutdown and its impact on real people around the globe (and all that interconnectedness stuff), I prefer today to write about granola and stuff from the garden.
Anyway, I’m thinking I would just be preaching to the choir if I wrote another blog post about the importance of trying to keep up and understand as much as possible, speaking with others to shape your understanding and your voice, being in contact with your elected officials and signing petitions, and reaching out to friends and family open to such discussions to invite them to be engaged.
It is times like these when I think of Patanjali’s sutra: heyam duhkham anagatam (the pain that has yet to come can be avoided.) I have contemplated this sutra much over a long period. It is a good one for when I am reaching into the yoga teachings for insight into how I might respond more optimally under the circumstances at hand, especially that which is entirely out of my control.
There hasn’t been a day in the past two months when I haven’t needed to cover my nose, mouth, and ears because I needed to walk past someone using a leaf blower.
They stink with burning fuel, stir up allergens, and aren’t really any more efficient than a rake and a broom. Why are they so ubiquitous? And why is that I have never seen a woman using one, but I have seen men of all races, ages, and socio-economic status cheerfully using one?
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
