Jammed.

Ailment; stagnation and self pity.

It may have started with an purchase of accidentally decaf coffee.
It may have started with the cold and rain well after Mother Damp Earth was supposed to wake the soil.
But I think it was the decaf coffee that started it all; tired and confused, we kept asking each other "Did your head hurt today?" kept attempting to have conversations that were patch-worked together and eventually just dropped off. When I saw the label on the coffee I laughed out loud. We high fived for not getting into a single fight.

While it may have started with the decaf coffee, it persists to something deeper. A funk. That might be putting it lightly.

The confusion reached into my school and shook up my stored knowledge and all the pieces flew everywhere. I couldn't remember slopes. Or simple tissues of plants. But I once knew. Once.

I briefly entertained the idea of just sticking to the decaf, seeing this come-down all the way through, but decided that with school I couldn't risk it. I'm back on the wagon (or off the wagon) and the fog is beginning to lift, but the funk is not.

Today on my to do list was; Talk to financial aid because we need more money, Call university administrations to ask about requirements, do homework so you don't forget simple tissues again, eat. All those things cause an avalanche of anxiety under my ribs, an achy feeling, like dragging a weight for a long distance. What if they laugh at me? I thought. Why would we want someone like you? They might ask. Or they might just feel sorry for me. Poor girl, she'll never make it.

Then I began to go after my hair, my skin. Why can't I be pretty? I whined with my head on my books.
I wish I could write, I thought. I wish I could write I wish I could write. Agony. Not writers block but a wall. Too much wind and the words wont land. Everything is jammed up, I thought.
Jammed.
Jam.

I should make jam.

Janelle Monae's new video .
Put it on repeat; I'm my own private dancer.

And I made jam.

I neglected to measure the Kumquats. If you cup your hands together, its about one and a half of those.
Slice, seed, simmer, sugar. Success.

The sugar I used was coconut sugar, which gives everything it touches a caramel brown color.
I also added a dash of Cardamom, the Queen.

Kumquats are mercilessly sour, so they're the perfect choice for jam that isn't too sweet. They're bright color and cheerful scent lifted my mood right away, as citrus is wont to do.
Kumquats will draw money and success, and their sour flavor stimulates digestion and aids the liver.
This jam will mooove you. 

The citrus lifted me, but I needed some roots. It seemed appropriate, with all this rain and damp, all the earth worms I've been rescuing. Something needed to sink deep, at the same time that it needed to reach up and feel the wind.

In search for more color I made a hundred beets that stained everything crimson.
We ate them all.
Typically I like to toss whatever is about to be roasted in some oil, but since we were out, I added a bit of water to the bottom of the pan, threw in two Bay leaves, tossed them in Thyme and let them go.
Everything smelled of dirt and spice. Perfection.


Prescription; Color. Spice. Dirt. Warmth in-spite of the wet. Eat seeds till you sprout leaves.

-A.H.

Tea meditation; thinking about the simple things.

Today has been lovely.

Saturday morning crept in under clouds and fog, barely announcing her sunlight. We woke late and barely got a chance to say good morning before Marcos rushed off to work. In spite of this harried start, my morning was slow and luscious. While the coffee brewed I rolled out my mat and did a few rounds of sun salutes to ring in the new day. It felt good to move and stretch. It felt, in a way, like meeting my body for the first time. Joints creaked who used to be silent, muscles that used to move, didn't. I thought, that this is the goal, to great my body every day anew, acknowledging it as an ever changing, growing thing.

Taking my mug and a blanket round my shoulders, I meditated. That sounds so stilted, "I meditated." Id rather say "I breathed." Up till now I've been consciousness of the mindfulness principles, and my focus has been on being present in all things. I try to apply this when I'm doing dishes, cleaning the litter box, driving in rushour on the I-5. I have come to the conclusion, however, that to attempt to integrate this practice without first setting aside time to really JUST practice is hard. Its hard to be mindful while scooping a stinky cat box. Its hard to be mindful when someone cuts you off. I need to set aside a time where I can just meditate; I need to reset my baseline.

I've been reluctant to do this. Mainly because it, also, is difficult. It involves waking up earlier. Which will probably mean that I, instead of my husband, will be the one to have to run downstairs and pay for parking in the morning. I've been reluctant because I'm lazy. I'm think I should, probably, I guess, challenge that. Today was my first day challenging that. It was great.

After all this I met up with a friend and we walked in the mist and drizzle to the Lan Su Gardens. We meandered through various covered walks and mahogany alcoves and oohed and aahed at interesting rock formations and Japanese maples without their leaves. We pondered at mystery water plants and, as textile fanatics, swooned over the patterns made with rocks and moss in the different courtyards.  Almost bewildered, we kept commenting on how everything was beautiful and new from every angle. The gardens were not sparse, they were spacious. There was breathing room. Every plant and stone had its moment in the spotlight, without any need to compete.

This one ^^ was called "Plum Blossoms on Cracked Ice.

I couldn't find the title for this courtyard, but it made me
feel like church, or sanctuary. Without the baggage.

We ordered tea without ceremonies, which I somewhat
regret at this point. I sipped a green tea who's aroma is rather
floral, and it is said that is thanks to the cimbidium orchids
that grow round the trees in the spring time. I've never felt fancier.
April ordered Frozen Summit. It was either that, or fire dragon, she
said. A few nights ago she dreamt of the word "fortitude" and he tea
options were fitting of this word, that dream, I think.

The tea house was the tallest building in the gardens, full of windows
who's shutters were cut with elaborate twining vines and knots. It was not
quiet. It was rather full of people discussing their tea choices, of boisterous
children who, while being officially welcomed, had spent the whole morning
in a place not really organized for their little feet and big energies. But it
felt quiet. The room sounded well lit and like dark wood. It sounded slow.
Time got away from us, and halfway through tea April had to dash to work.
I finished her Oolong and ordered myself some cakes. I drank our tea slowly.
I breathed slowly. I chewed slowly. I was in the moment and no where else.

The walk home was brisk, in pace and temperature. My body felt good, lungs
and heart both capable. I felt space inside my body. That rarely happens.
This has been like the long stretch of blank highway, and suddenly coming
across the marker that you've been waiting for; you're on the right road, you didn't
take a wrong turn at the gas station.

Something touched me deeply here. Perhaps it was the simplicity and the ornateness, both occurring simultaneously without contradicting or overwhelming each other. Or maybe it was the spaciousness of the gardens, the luxury of breathing room afforded every tree and shrub and stone. Something felt familiar and distant. I am incoherent in explaining it, and yet there is no other way to explain it.

Walking home I repeated over and over "Peace is every step." I knew, without dwelling, that things had changed. I have too many things, and nothing can breathe, I knew. I've begun putting this in boxes. I've routed the way to shelters and worthy causes. I know I have been blessed beyond measure. I know I will always have what I need, so I don't need to hoard these blessings. I can let them come, then I can let them go. So I will let them go, like water into soil, like dandelion spores on the wind, with wild abandon.

-A.H.

(an aside, peace is every step is a reference to Thich Nhat Hanh's book with the same title.)