The Beauty of Yacon

Yacon in late October

I'm smitten with yacon, an Andean tuber with amazing health benefits. It grows easily in the Willamette Valley. First of all, the taste sweet and crunchy with just the right amount of juiciness when cured. It has been compared to a cross between celery and an apple. It feels good to eat, this may be related to its inulin, which has pre-biotic effect, it helps promote the growth of healthy gut bacteria (and discourages the growth of baddies). The inulin is an undigestible sugar (great for people with diabetes!), so it tastes sweet, but does not mess with your blood sugar. It is only available in the winter (around here ) in farmer's markets and stores that sell organic produce. (I found out after throwing the leaves away, that they are typically eaten in Peru. They can be used to wrap food while cooking, like grape leaves, or cabbage leaves are used in Mediterranean or European cultures. Live and learn, next year we will try eating the leaves, too.)

Secondly, it is so pretty, it belongs in a a flower garden!  The growth habit and the soft, fuzzy leaves remind me of tithonia, or Mexican Sunflower. If the growing season were longer here, we would see yellow daisy like flowers,  but I have not seen them bloom in my garden. I typically do not water my flower gardens much, so unless things changed (a lot), I won't be adding them to a flower border. We'll just have to settle for a more beautiful vegetable garden.

The challenge of growing yacon lies in curing and storage. I harvested late last year and lost the entire crop. This year I harvested early, when the burgundy blush of cold weather kissed the leaves. However, not sure what their needs were, I dried them out, and they require humidity to cure well. Eaten uncured, they are extremely watery and not as sweet as fully cured tubers. They have more inulin when uncured. Curing changes some of the undigestible inulin to other forms of sugar. I'm attempting to correct the humidity problem. We may eat these so fast that we will still end up buying them in the store this winter, after all.

If you do not yet know yacon, you must make her aquaintance. This much yumminess is not to be missed!

Don't Despair - Write Letters!

Leela and Enid in earlier days.

While my mother-in-law, Enid was passing her final months in a nursing facility, secondary to multiple systems not functioning, I decided to start writing her letters. Austin had stories about how people communicated through daily letters back when Enid was young. The letters were written on anything, the back of a receipt, a paper napkin, anything. Often, the letters were just about the weather or other mundane things. Knowing that took the pressure off me finding amazing things to write about. Enid was intelligent, politically tuned in (she was so hopeful that Hillary would win and she would see a female president), and watched a lot of CNN (along with old movies), so I could just discuss politics, nature, my classes, whatever was on my mind.

She died in late April, and we visited Austin in June for her memorial. It was lovely. She was a sweet and well-loved woman. And somewhat fiesty. Austin was tasked with sorting through decades worth of correspondence. I took home all of the letters I had written to her. Yesterday, I was wiping out old messages on my cell phone (I seldom check messages on my cell, so don't leave any there) and found a voicemail from Enid from January. She was thanking me for all of the letters. I had forgotten about that message and was filled with sweet sadness hearing her voice again.

I have been getting emails about a project that involves sending personal letters to people in swing districts who might not vote, and encouraging them to vote. The project is called "Vote Forward," and in the pilot study, people who received letters were more likely to vote, than the control group. The study found an increased voter turnout about 3.4 percentage points higher in districts that got letters! You can find out more and write letters at: http://www.votefwd.org/. Write as many or as few as you like. Personal, heartfelt letters encouraging people who might feel their votes do not count can make a big difference! So, if you are looking for a place to channel all the emotions you are feeling about recent events - write letters. Simple, nothing fancy. Write from the heart. Most of the letters are written for you, and you can write a simple, short note. I can guarantee 100% that Enid would approve of this message.

Bird Riot!!!

A few years ago, I discovered that I could mimic the "wheet" call that a Swainson's Thrush makes and get a response. All this time, I have thought that the call was an "I'm here, where are you?" call. Last weekend, while taking time out from an interactive literature game at CoHo, I went onto a little wooded path to commune with nature and consider my role in the game. In the distance I heard a Swainson's thrush "wheeting," so I began to reply. The distant "wheeting" moved closer and closer, until the bird was perched on a branch about 6 feet up and 8 to 10 feet away, and I could clearly see the spots on it's breast and the little white ring around it's eyes as it looked around expectantly. Almost immediately, a house wren appeared scrambling through the underbrush between the thrush and me making it's scolding sound, as if to say, "Imposter!" The noise from the "wheeting" and the scolding was amplified when a nearby group of chickdees appeared in the trees around the thrush making 'dee-dee' sounds (just double dees, no more).
 Watching the thrush glancing quickly around, looking for a nonexistent buddy bird, I began to feel bad about fooling the bird and stopped "wheeting." The wren, now joined by another wren, got quiet and the chickadees flitted off, and the thrush turned it's back to me and scampered away. Just like that, the racket was over.
  While looking for sounds and information to add to this blog, I discovered that the "whit" (not "wheet" as I hear it) usually expresses alarm or an intention to distract an intruder from the nest. So, what I had started was an alarm, which explains the scolding. When chickadees are very alarmed, they make four, five, or six 'dees' so perhaps they were concerned, but not overly alarmed. After all, I'm not a cat or a hawk.

Touched by an Angel

My meditations in nature have mostly consisted of breathing in the space, giving more attention to the sounds and sensations around me, less to my thoughts, and blending my interior experience with the exterior experience. Resting in being in nature, bathed by the trees, the sounds, the changing light. It is a happy time. I sit near a huge Douglas fir under a canopy of maple leaves. Early in the mornings, it feels like a cathedral, so sacred.

This week I went to audit a morning of the Nia brown belt training in Portland, staying with my friend, Cassy, who is doing the entire training. That morning we were playing in emotional energy. Noticing the base emotions of love or fear, and how other feelings can interact with them. Practicing dancing and moving with emotional energy. It was a lovely experience.

On my way to meditate the following day, I had upsetting thoughts related to a local political issue on which I do not feel heard by my neighbors when I have expressed my thoughts. In order to calm myself to meditate, I chose to stream love to this beautiful space I rest in. Love to the trees, the birds, even the mosquitoes. It was a warm, cozy spaciousness. I noticed that when uncomfortable thoughts came in, I continue to hold the base energy of love, as the thoughts happened. It was such a blessing! I felt deeply touched.

I have done a meta practice (offering lovingkindness to all) on and off over many years. We do a little meta practice at the end of each Nia class I teach because it is so healing, especially in that open, restful, healing space after dancing and stretching. And, this was different. It was simply being love -  meta without words.

So, this morning I could not wait to get back to my sacred space. Some time after settling in, a black blob appeared in peripheral vision scurrying quickly towards me up the path. In no time, two large white stripes were visible on it's back! There was no time to react, and nothing to do, but sit there in stillness. BIG BUBBLE of FEAR present! Not the fear of death, or even injury, more the fear of YUCK! It stopped right in front of me, its face and most of its body obscured by my knees. I could sense it smelling my leg and pressing against the fabric of my pant leg. I tried to calm myself with talk, such as, "they only spray when threatened. I'm not a threat. It's OK." It finally moved slowly less than two feet away, with it's tail pointing straight up, it's rear in my direction. It paused for what felt like a few seconds (I repeated the mantra: "I'm not a threat, I'm not a threat, I'm not a threat"), then it continued quickly up the path. HUGE RELIEF, and GRATITUDE! Big breath! I wanted to laugh, and in this cathedral like space, at this time, it felt inappropriate. So, laughter inside.

In three years of nature meditations, I have very occasionally been visited by other wildlife, but never by a skunk. I have never been that close to a live skunk. So, BIG THANK YOU to skunk for being an angel and not spraying me. Next time, I hope to hold the energy of love if you approach.

Addendum: For the next couple of days after my skunk encounter, I heard animals scurrying at the base of the bank I sit upon. They were heading south, down the bank. I suspected they were skunks, politely avoiding the path while I was sitting on it. On about the fourth day, as I was approaching the sitting place, I chanced upon two skunks cavorting on the path in front of the Douglas fir. They noticed me, as well. They were really cute, however, I thought of how quickly the first skunk approached me that day, and decided to run. At my normal meditation time, it is getting to be dark down in the magic spot, and it seems to be the time that skunks (who are near-sighted) are out and about on the path, increasing the likelihood of more encounters. So I have given up meditating outside in the early morning hours, for now. No other place on the property holds quite the magic of that space.

Welcoming sacred union

The blog I wish I had completed before the birth of Thomas and Antonia's baby. She may be in labor at this minute. Tears of joy, just thinking about it.

After my hysterectomy last fall, I was recovering on the women's unit at the hospital. Once in a while, I would hear a tiny baby cry, followed by a chorus of "Awww...." from multiple family members. It was so sweet that I found myself lying there, just waiting for it. Tiny cry. "Awww..." (I shared this with one of my classes in an email, and later a newborn nurse in the class came up to me and said, with the most exuberant expression, "Yes! That's exactly what it's like!")

While I could not dance for two weeks following surgery, I began learning a new Nia routine called, Sacred and, consequently, contemplating what makes something sacred. It is so easy to recognize the sacredness of new beings, they bring spirit in with them that we all partake of when we see them for the first time. We commonly (across cultures, I once read) take a breath at first sight of a newborn. It's as if we are inhaling some of the sacredness they bring, while simultaneously being touched with wonder and joy.

We also make something sacred by witnessing or recognizing the sacred in it, be it a tree, or an object we can hold in the hand, or a body of water, or a relationship. Our recognition makes it so. While infants bring the sacred in with them, our gathering together to encircle them with love and recognition of the sacredness of who they are makes it even more so. We welcome them in to the wholesomeness of our family, they unify us by coming into being, and we joyfully invite them into this blessed union.

This is also true of the ritual of marriage (this is not a plug, just an observation). A community comes together as ONE to recognize the sacredness of a relationship. It touches our hearts and connects us to the deep, soul-filled longing to live the truth that we really are ONE. That's why we cry.

So, Thomas and Antonia, thank you for allowing us to recognize the sacredness of our union as a family, and blessing our family with the sacredness, joy, and infinite potential of this new being. We are there for her, she is a part of us. We are there for you, as you are also a part of us.

I made people giggle....

It was a serious rally. Serious subjects. And then the Raging Grannies, which are serious in their own, kind of silly way. Found the words for this sign on a sign held by a little old lady sitting on her walker at the rally in NYC. I can just hear her saying these words in her NYC accent.

Living with Deer

When the weather is warm and dry, I like to meditate very early in the morning out in nature. I have a special place under a large Douglas Fir, on a bank in the maples. On a Sunday morning in July, I was sitting in my spot, when I heard unusual sounds - soft, hesitant sounds I hear when deer are near, a snap followed by silence, then another sound. I peeked around the snowberry bush I was sitting behind to see a small deer up the path. It appeared to see me and stamped it's hooves in rapid succession. I could not tell if it had spots. We stared at each other for a moment, then I retreated behind the shrub to continue my meditation. After some time, I heard more hesitant snaps and peeked around the bush again. The deer was still there and it 'chuffed' at me (my made-up word for a sharp exhale with a little high-pitched throat sound). It repeated the sound several times, then turned and went up the path, paused and chuffed again. The sound has an aggressive quality to it. Was it trying to frighten me? The same thing happened a couple of months earlier, I was sitting in my spot when I heard an unfamiliar sound and peeked around the bush. This action frightened a tiny fawn who was climbing onto the path, causing it to scramble up the path. A big deer (momma?) appeared from above (the direction the fawn had gone), looked at me, and chuffed. It repeated this aggressive sound many times. It was a bit scary. I wondered if it might charge me. It turned and went up the path, chuffing along the way, then wandered around chuffing at the top of the bluff before leaving. I wondered about the significance of the strange sound. Deer certainly recognize humans, I run them out of the garden periodically. Perhaps, when they see my hatted head covered in a black tulle mosquito net peeking out from behind the bush, I don't appear human. I am seated and leaning forward to take a peek, so I'm shorter than a grown deer. I probably look like an animated blob, bobbing behind a bush. Perhaps they chuff to try to get this strange creature to reveal itself, so they know whether or not to be afraid.

This one is in front of our garden gate, eating aronia leaves. The garden is not deer fenced. I like to think we have an agreement, so far it has worked out. They can have all the aronia leaves they want, and they don't get inside the garden.

In the late '90s, I did a vision quest with dancing and meditation, which culminated in a ritual to reveal a power animal. Although I was somewhat ambivalent about the notion of a power animal, I was completely engaged in the whole dance meditation process. During the part where we were waiting for our animal spirit to appear - nothing came. Nothing. I was a bit worried that I would be the only person who did not get an animal. Eventually,  a hesitant deer showed up. My response? 'Wait, there must be a mistake, maybe another animal will come along?' Not yet ready to own a fraidy-cat deer as a symbol of power, I don't remember if I even bothered to look up the meaning of deer as a symbolic animal. I dissed my animal, no wonder it was hesitant to appear. I never had interactions with deer, they were not a part of my city life. It was exciting to see them, when they (rarely) appeared. However, until I moved to Oregon, deer were never a part of my life.

What have I learned about deer living around them? They are not as timid as I thought. Early one morning (around 5:20am, when it was too early to yell) I attempted to chase a deer out of a neighbor's blueberries. It moved about four feet and stood behind a snowberry bush watching me. Perhaps it assumed the two-legged creature was too stupid to have object permanence. It took a number of attempts to get it to move, and each time it moved a few yards, then stopped and waited for me to go away. I finally left it on another neighbor's front porch, looking in the window. (That neighbor wouldn't mind, and I needed to get to meditation.) When I jump around yelling and and waving my arms at them, they calmly stare at me with those big, brown eyes, like they have never seen such idiotic behavior. They are not easily intimidated. They seem patient. They expect me to give up and leave them alone. They like to eat my peas. It's disappointing when they get my peas. They also eat the leaves off apple trees, and aronia bushes. I have no problem with them eating aronia leaves. They can have all they want, if they leave the peas alone. Tulips. I gave up on tulips because they eat the flowers like lollipops. There are plenty of reasons to not enjoy deer in my garden. And, I still get excited when I see them. They bring wonder.