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A Worthy Experiment

The practices hosted by Woven History were a delightful opportunity to practice in community, come together to share with those in need (World Central Kitchen), and enjoy techniques and refuge in these trying times.  Though the practices themselves were great, it turns out, not to anyone’s surprise, that it was not ideal for the shop to have the space occupied for a non-business reason that regularly, unless it was okay to cancel at the last minute on a not infrequent basis.

I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to practice in such a vibrant an interesting space and enjoying meeting new and reconnecting with old fellow practitioners.  I was also reminded of my favorite way to practice in a group, which is to have everyone say what they are there for and needing that day, whether physical or emotional, and then offer something(s) intended to be nourishing for all present.

We’re talking about whether perhaps a once a month practice at Woven History might still work, and I will keep myself open to discovering other alternative, local spaces.

I’m also considering offering a weekly house practice (ideally 3-4 people any given practice), as we did before the pandemic.  Please comment or email me if you might be interested and what days/times might be best for you.  I’m thinking about mid-morning either Monday or Wednesday.  It would require advance RSVP because it is in my home.  I don’t know about you, but I need more time giving myself the rest and strength I need to participate working for positive change and less time drowning in the ranting of people whose minds I cannot change.

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    A Lesson In Making Dumplings

    Last Monday I had the honor and delight to be invited to a multigenerational dinner of homemade dumplings at a neighbor’s house.

    I was told it was customary for guests to shape a share of the dumplings; the hosts do everything else. As I have not grown up making dumplings as part of group family activity, that meant I needed first to be shown what to do with the already made dough and filling.

    Skills used to make homemade noodles, tortillas, and pizza helped make dumpling shaping an accessible activity. It was tricky at first. Two people were showing me two different ways, which was somewhat confusing in an enjoyable way, and helped emphasize that for friendly dumpling making, ultimately, everyone needs to find their own method that works for them. Also, as with many hand skills, because it was the first first time I was being shown, I was simultaneously transposing it from right to left-handed.

    It only took two tries to get a dumpling that wouldn’t explode in the pot and lose its filling. It took several more to make one that had nice pleats and blended in with the rest.

    We had an interesting discussion about the difference between learning by eating several variations and then reading several recipes and then trying to replicate a version that resembled what I had eaten prepared by someone who learned from childhood as part of a multigenerational group process.

    I have long contemplated, and continue to do so, how my comfort in learning anything from a book and then seeing if I can do it or something like it, has shaped my meditation and movement practices.

    It’s pretty easy to see which dumplings I made. No difference in taste. I was also happy to contribute garlic chives from the garden.

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    What a Difference a Month Makes

    Here’s an aerial view of the back garden on the equinox after I spent several hours cleaning, deadheading, repotting, mulching, etc.  As you can see, the moss is ecstatic from having had the weight of the snow on it for several weeks.  Coming up in quantities almost enough to pick are lettuce, spinach, cilantro, parsley, chives, onions, lemon balm (always have too much of that — if you’re local let me know if you want some).  The first rosebud emerged sometime between Friday and Sunday.  It is hard to believe that just a month ago, I was blogging about indoor gardening — how to find delight even when snowed under (scroll to the bottom of the linked post to compare pictures of the same view).

    As you can see from comparing the two photos, things were still growing under the snow or getting ready to do so.  That is what practice is like for me.  Sometimes I feel completely snowed under by an injury or rush jobs at work or personal circumstances beyond my control.  I keep practicing, but I don’t have the time or energy for long practices or full weekend workshops, when it is easy to get to a place of delight.  Other times, things are less pressured, and I feel brimming over with health.  Then practice feels wildly effulgent.  For my garden to offer its full potential (as is true with my practice), I need to spend lots of time and effort in it for the next several weeks.  I know that if I do so, I will be blessed with fullness.

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