Smile and the World Smiles with You!
Observations of a Fifty Something Housewife

BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST MORA HECHT

While waiting in line at the eatery, ‘witchcraft, in New York’s Rockefeller Center over the holidays, a woman behind me blurted out, “You must not be from New York. You’re too friendly.” I had apologized for speaking over her for my children’s lunch orders.

And then, as it so often happens, a conversation ensued.

I learned she was once a native, but retired to Florida years ago. She spoke in a raspy, smoked too many unfiltered cigarettes voice about her visit with her boyfriend. He was petrified to cross the streets she confided, overwhelmed by the crowds and generally looked to be having a pretty miserable time. He stood meekly behind her, eyes cast downward. I’m sure there was more to their story, but I could feel my husband staring me down; time to move on.

I’m the recipient of a lot of eye rolling from my family, who claim I’m often too sociable to people I don’t know. Perhaps I am, but, it’s not my fault if people find me comfortably familiar. And if you ask me, we are all in this together. Besides, I am not always the perpetrator of such conversations. Sometimes, they find me.

The woman who stocks for Hallmark at my local market, Nancy, likes to converse while I browse the card aisle. She started it first. I swear. Barbara in shoes and Annie, the merchandiser at 
Saks, Joe at the bank, all like to share a tale or two.

My husband suggests I make people cry. That only happened once.

McDonald’s Fries, a Coke and a Good Cry

I was eating lunch in an overcrowded Philadelphia McDonald’s when I offered to share my booth with a cute little elderly woman who had nowhere to sit. I was newly married and in the city for a job interview. I asked if she had any children when she cried the first time.

By the time we finished lunch she had wept into her napkin three more times.

I felt awful for my apparent lack of discretion, but as we parted ways she smiled and thanked me profusely for the company and I watched as her small frame was swept up onto the crowded pavement. I was relieved and happy for the connection.

Shrinking the Universe

During my one and only retail experience at Anthropologie I found my true calling. As a sales associate I reported to “zones” throughout the day; the front end a perfect fit. As customers arrived, I cheerfully greeted each and every one.

I admit after a few years the lines became somewhat blurred between work and recreation. I was a perpetual “welcome wagon” of good cheer. Salutations abounded to anyone in my path, spilling over from work to parking lots, restaurants, even the grocery store.

Frankly, I began to annoy myself. Even I was too cheerful for me. But, for the most part, I really can’t see the harm in a little friendly exchange; it makes the universe just a little smaller.

Choosing Happiness!

With age comes experience and as I have settled into my fifties I wake up each morning and know I can choose “happy.” It is easier to go out into the world with a smile, even in the most difficult of circumstances. I’ve charmed many a waitress, sales clerk, ticket agent, and mother-in-law from sullen into cheerful dispositions. It’s a gift. Someone once told me I don’t have the power to change a person’s circumstances. Maybe not, but if I can spread some joy and happiness, isn’t it worth the attempt?

Rain on my parade if you will, but, just for the record, as I walked one morning from our hotel in Battery Park City, to my daughter’s apartment, winding around the buildings along the Hudson River, I smiled at everyone I passed.

Even in this New York state of “mind your own business,” everyone smiled back.

Read Mora all month long, blogging with her pearls on, at Is Anybody Else Hot?

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/31/is-anybody-else-hot-12-31/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/30/really-healthy-2011-favorites-recipe-box/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/30/really-healthy-2011-favorites-recipe-box/#comments Fri, 30 Dec 2011 05:05:48 +0000 The Magazine of Yoga Staff http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26494
Photos: ©Sally Pasley Vargas SallyPasleyVargas.com; ©Natalie Lewis Dailycrave.com; ©Tram Le NutritionToKitchen.com

Carrot Ginger Soup, Brussel Sprout Salad, and Chocolate Covered Cranberry Fruit Jellies

BY THE MAGAZINE OF YOGA STAFF

We love searching for the best of the best from food blogs all over the world, but like Dorothy, we must conclude that “there’s no place like home.” For the final Really Healthy of 2011 we’d like to feature the web pages of our beloved columnists and contributors. We celebrate their innovation, super gorgeous photography, humor, and dedication to food and cooking that is not just healthy, but both delicious and fun to eat.

Sally Pasley Vargas’s gorgeous blog, Cooking Lessons, sported a makeover earlier this season, and both Tram Le’s Nutrition to Kitchen and Natalie Lewis’s Daily Crave have brand new looks for the New Year. Exploration will be richly rewarded with creativity, beauty and recipes that you’ll want to make over and over again.

Real Life Is Real Yoga

We especially want to honor Tram, who embodies courage, resolve, indomitability and the yoga of real life.

Tram was in a horrific automobile accident in November of 2010. She suffered a traumatic brain injury. At the time of the accident, she was pregnant, and gave birth to her baby prematurely. Tram spent months in the hospital, and many more in painstaking rehabilitation. With love, support and a reserve of tenacity and courage that leaves us awestruck, Tram is back to cooking, blogging, and raising her baby with her husband.

Please join us in sending Tram warm wishes for continued recovery, success with her blog, and in wishing her and her family a very happy and healthy New Year, filled with the every day joy of living.

Carrot Ginger Soup

Whether you need a go-to soup for a winter lunch, or a comforting “day after” tonic for January 1st, this perfect in its simplicity Carrot Ginger Soup exceeds expectation. Fresh carrots are balanced with mild pearl onions and a zing of grated ginger in this soothing and flavorful soup.

Photo: ©Tram Le NutritionToKitchen.com

Brussel Sprout Salad

You will convert even the most avid of brussel sprout naysayers with this preparation. Caramelized shredded brussel sprouts are tossed with dried cranberries, pecans, parmesan cheese and a squeeze of lemon. Seconds, please!

Photo: ©Natalie Lewis Dailycrave.com

Cranberry Jellies Covered in Chocolate

“So very French and so very beautiful” and so very irresistible, we might add! These stunning Cranberry Jellies dipped in Chocolate would make wonderful gifts if only you could keep yourself and your family from devouring them! Sally makes the daunting project of candy-making easy and fun with her step-by-step instructions.

Photo: ©Sally Pasley Vargas SallyPasleyVargas.com

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/30/really-healthy-2011-favorites-recipe-box/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/29/read-my-mantra-you-miserable/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/29/read-my-mantra-you-miserable/#comments Thu, 29 Dec 2011 05:05:45 +0000 Susan Blood http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26135
All Graphics: ©The Magazine of Yoga

It’s like I’m destroying everything that’s good and right before someone else does. No one can dismiss what’s important to me if I’ve already dismissed it myself.

BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST SUSAN BLOOD

For the record, “f#@ you, you miserable @#k” is not a good mantra.

I know this because I looked up mantra in the dictionary:

1. Hinduism A sacred verbal formula repeated in prayer, meditation, or incantation, such as an invocation of a god, a magic spell, or a syllable or portion of scripture containing mystical potentialities.
2. A commonly repeated word or phrase
 - thefreedictionary.com

So while it is technically a mantra (per definition two), it is not a good one. Specifically, it does not invoke the kind of god I want to invoke. Even I can see that. After commonly repeating it for a couple of hours, I have a headache and stomach cramps.

Self destructive behavior: its varieties, plus bleach

In all fairness, if it is a clean house you’re looking for, this mantra does work. In my anger I washed everything. I threw things away. And as a final “&#@ you” to everything that had pushed me over the edge, I used bleach. Just because I’m a pacifist doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes feel like killing stuff.

I stopped short of going to the grocery store and buying an arsenal of cleaning products that would eventually need to be taken to town hall on the day they collect all the stuff they beg you not to throw in the landfill. The crazy person in my head knows stupidly self-destructive behavior when it sees it.

I prefer smart self-destructive behavior. It’s so much more… self-destructive.

You don’t like the way I live my life? Fine. I will take everything that gives this house life and I will burn it in a big pile in the yard. Bad microbes! Good microbes! Crayon drawings of baby deer that say “I love you mommy.”  In the pile they go! Ha ha! That will sure teach THEM.

It’s like I’m trying to destroy everything that’s good and right before someone else does. No one can dismiss what’s important to me if I’ve already dismissed it myself.

A quiet inner voice amid the demonic laughter

In the still, small moments of sanity that follow these outbursts, I know that none of this does a single thing to “them,” aside from giving them a reason to label me as clinically insane.

Recently I had to extricate myself from an awkward situation. I knew the other party would never admit to wrongdoing and that eventually their actions would effect my reputation. During hundreds of hours of imagined arguments, I laid out all the ways that they were wrong and I was right. I had many private temper tantrums. I was sure that if I blew up all my metaphorical bridges, no metaphorical jury would convict. They might even cheer me.

I was also sure that when you run away from something, it pops up in another form as soon as the dust clears.

Although the situation wasn’t domestic, I kept thinking of Elin Nordegren and my mantra became swing no golf clubs.

It’s amazing, the physiological difference you experience when you chant those two mantras.

f#@ you, you miserable @#k, versus Swing no golf clubs.

“Swing no golf clubs” feels like a deep-breathing exercise. The other one feels like a hyperventilating exercise.

The raw and the cooked

There are things in this world that can and should make us angry. This isn’t about anger management. This is about defending our tender insides from our own clumsy flailing. It’s okay to be angry. It’s not okay to inadvertently destroy ourselves as a mode of expressing that anger.

If you must swing a golf club, don’t hit yourself in the head. And if you must blow up a bridge, make sure you’re not standing on it.

The iconic Susan Blood also writes Trout Towers and operabetty.com.

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/29/read-my-mantra-you-miserable/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/24/music-matters-12-24/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/24/music-matters-12-24/#comments Sat, 24 Dec 2011 05:05:07 +0000 Emmanuelle Lambert http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26296
Graphics: ©The Magazine of Yoga™

The soundtrack of a deeply lived life: part music, part ambient environment, part rain, wind and nature. Oh – and part Lovely Boyfriend!

BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST EMMANUELLE LAMBERT

Sitting on my couch, watching a documentary on French television. Music, slamming door noises as images of some prison appear on the screen, foot steps getting louder and louder. Then the noises stop, music remains, and voice over starts. The soundtrack to a quiet evening, only accompanied by my typing on my laptop. And occasionally, a kitty starts purring. Not on telly, but on my lap.

Music, morning …

Sitting on a chair in my kitchen, radio on, furious hungry meowing on too. Water for my tea is getting hotter and hotter in my boiler, bread is getting toasted and will soon jump out of the toaster. I can hear the sound of the water from upstairs as Lovely Boyfriend showers. The soundtrack to another morning, possibly made better by my singing in just-woke-up-but-still-managed-to-do-agni-sara pitched voice.
 
Sitting on the tram to the office. I have my headphones on, listening to a podcast. The voice is soon covered up by the noises of the old tramway, creaking and screeching on the rails, by the people talking, to each other or on the phone (how can one talk so loudly on the phone when it is not even 9 o’clock ? and yes, singing at breakfast is on the contrary perfectly acceptable), cars passing by, the usual scenario at rush hour.

The soundtrack to another Monday morning, while you are barely awake.

noon …

Sitting on the tram from the office on the way to teach a private yoga class. Headphones on, again, most likely listening to once-despised “yoga music”. The odds are good that Deva Premal is now chanting her version of the Guru Rinpoche Mantra, and she is quickly followed by Claire Missingham and her Ganesha Sharanam. Now the tube, the underground world. The noises again, hand in hand with their friends the smells. Noise & Smell, the ever present, ever overpowering duo living underground. The soundtrack to a day of work ending, another day of work starting.
 
Sitting on the tram on the way home. It’s late already, the streets and tube stations are calmer. It is late, but not the night yet. It is that time of the day we call in France « entre chien et loup », between dog and wolf, when the respectable day leaves and makes space for the treacherous night. The noisy hustle and bustle of the city dwellers has gone, only replaced by fewer trams, going faster now that the streets are clearer.

… and night

Headphones on, again listening to a podcast, only covered by the noises of this new tram, much more modern, less loud, more swift, you can feel it and hear it go while you’re in its belly. Noise pairs up with Neon Lights. The soundtrack to a late journey back home, the weirdness of the city emphasized by strange light and the music that escapes from this youngster’s headphones, sitting over there. It might not be the music you would listen to, from what you can hear, but it’s his. And whatever type of music you listen to, the effects are universal. You are both on the same tram, but you each have your own journey in your ears.

Sitting on your own couch, in your home studio below the roof. Home studio, that sounds good right? Maybe a bit… too much? Then again, this is where you work, study, practice, you always have a mat unrolled there. Much to your kitty’s delight.

You hear her scratch your old worn out mat you can’t seem to get rid of. You hear yourself scratch and scribble frantically on paper as you work your way through a yoga class, or the workbook from that über important training you are taking. Then Skype rings, and a conversation with a friend in the US starts. That’s been the soundtrack of afternoon and evenings of work for the last few weeks.

Music making in a world made of music

Nothing beats the sound of life. There is nothing you can do to cover the sound of life happening, wherever you are. It can be a car in your street, a furious honk following up soon, the heating starting up and burning water soon flowing in the pipes, the floor creaking under your footsteps…

Nothing beats the sounds of nature though. As I started typing this column, rain started pouring, and it is now hitting my roof repeatedly. Wind is waking up, and whistling through the littlest hole. Forgotten, the noisy cars. Forgotten, the loud voices outside. Forgotten, the chatter on the ever useless television.

As I am sipping my cup of tea, sitting on my couch with city of my life, I am preparing to listen to the best music ever created: the sounds of nature.

Find Emmanuelle here on The Magazine every month in Music Matters. But don’t lose touch with her great style of living real – read her smart, hip and honest blog Plans on a Comet.

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/24/music-matters-12-24/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/23/really-healthy-winter-warmers/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/23/really-healthy-winter-warmers/#comments Fri, 23 Dec 2011 05:05:53 +0000 The Magazine of Yoga Staff http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=25970
Photo: cc by Stephan Rosger, thanks!

Instead of alcohol or caffeine, these drinks seduce with aromatic spices, splashes of orange water, or creamy almond milk.

SELECTED BY THE MAGAZINE OF YOGA STAFF

We’ve got nothing against winter drink classics like hot chocolate, spiced apple cider or chai tea, but there’s a whole wonderful world of additional drink choices just perfect for curling up under grandma’s quilt on a cold snowy winter’s eve!

Sharon Tyler Herbst’s The Ultimate Liquor-Free Drink Guide includes some irresistible options for when you want to branch out from your tried-and-true favorites. These warming drinks seduce with aromatic spices, splashes of orange water, or creamy almond milk — no alcohol or caffeine needed.

Instead of the usual hot cocoa, try Mexican chocolate Champurrado, thickened with masa harina and sweetened with dark brown sugar. Honey-sweetened Russian Sbityen spiced with ginger, cloves and peppercorns makes a splendid toddy alternative, and the almond-based and orange water kissed Moroccan Sharbat Bil Looz gives chai tea some serious competition!

Note: Vegans, rejoice! Almond or soy milk can be substituted for dairy milk with delicious consequences in any of the following recipes.

Excerpted from The Ultimate Liquor-Free Drink Guide by Sharon Tyler Herbst. Copyright © 2002 by Sharon Tyler Herbst.

Every country has its traditional libations, those time-honored drinks that are not only local favorites, but whose popularity has spread far and wide. Countries with hot climates tend toward cool, light drinks, such as Mexico’s aguas frescas. And India beats the heat with its refreshing lassis, which can range from savory renditions flavored with spices like cumin and pepper to sweeter, fruit-flavored versions.

On the flip side of the coin, cold-climate residents need chill-chasers, such as Holland’s hot, anise-flavored anus melk, and Russia’s spicy, honey-based sbityen. Then there are holiday favorites, like Puerto Rico’s coquito, a coconut eggnog. This chapter contains a small sampling of myriad drinks from around the world, some of which may just become favorites in your household.

Atole de Chocolate (also called Champurrado) (Mexico)

Popular in Mexico and parts of the American Southwest, this beverage is said to date back to pre-Columbian times. It’s thickened with masa harina (lime-treated, dried corn kernels ground into flour). Masa harina and Mexican chocolate can be found in Latin markets and many supermarkets. Latin markets sell instant atole, which can be mixed with milk or water. Atole can be served hot or at room temperature.

Serves 4

2 cups (16 oz.) chilled water
rounded 1/3 cup masa harina
1/2 cinnamon stick
2 cups (16 oz.) whole milk
3 oz. Mexican chocolate or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1/3 cup packed dark brown sugar
1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

In a medium bowl, gradually stir 1 cup of the water into masa harina. Let stand 15 minutes. In a medium, heavy saucepan, bring remaining 1 cup water and cinnamon stick to a boil. Pour masa harina mixture through a fine sieve into boiling water, stirring constantly. Add milk, chocolate, and sugar; stir over medium-low heat until chocolate melts and mixture is creamy and smooth. Remove from heat; stir in vanilla. Whisk lightly until atole is frothy. Serve immediately in warm mugs, or cool to room temperature, refrigerate, and serve cold in medium glasses. Use a whisk to froth the mixture before serving.

Anus Melk (Holland)

This warmer is known as “anise milk” in the Netherlands. Toasting the anise seed will intensify the flavor.

Serves 4

1 rounded Tbsp. anise seed, crushed
4 cups (32 oz.) milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. (1 oz.) cornstarch
2 Tbsp. (1 oz.) water

Combine anise seed, milk, and sugar in a medium saucepan. Cook over medium heat until mixture begins to simmer. Reduce heat to low; cook 5 minutes. Meanwhile, place cornstarch in a small bowl. Gradually add water, stirring until smooth. Stirring constantly, slowly add cornstarch mixture to milk. Simmer, stirring constantly, for 5 minutes. Pour through a fine strainer into warmed mugs. May be served immediately, or cooled to room temperature, refrigerated, and reheated over medium-low heat (don’t let it boil) just before serving.

Sbityen [ZBEET-yen] (Russia)

Although this honey-based warmer usually contains a jolt of vodka or brandy, it’s equally wonderful without it.

Serves 6

6 cups (48 oz.) water
2/3 cup (scant 6 oz.) honey
2-inch piece (1/2 inch in diameter) peeled ginger, thinly sliced
grated zest of 1 small lemon
1 stick cinnamon, broken in half
10 whole cloves
5 peppercorns
1/2 bay leaf
ground cinnamon for garnish (optional)

Combine all ingredients except garnish in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally to dissolve honey. Reduce heat to low; cover and simmer 20 minutes. Strain into mugs; sprinkle with cinnamon, if desired. May be refrigerated and reheated.

Sharbat Bil Looz (Morocco)

This almond-milk drink is mildly sweet and exceedingly satisfying. Although classically served chilled, it’s immensely soothing when warm. Although not traditional, toasting the almonds adds a rich flavor. For even more almond flavor, add a drop of pure almond extract.

Serves 4

1 1/2 cups (12 oz.) water
8 oz. slivered almonds, toasted, if desired
1/2 cup superfine sugar
1 1/2 cups (12 oz.) milk
1 to 2 dashes (1/16 to 1/8 tsp.) orange-flower water or rose water
1 drop pure almond extract (optional)

Combine 1 cup of the water, almonds, and sugar in a blender. Cover and process at medium speed until smooth. Add remaining 1/2 cup water, milk, and orange-flower water; process until combined. Pour through a fine strainer into a pitcher. Taste and add almond extract, if desired. Cover and chill at least 1 hour. Pour into small glasses.

Yansoon (Arab countries)

This spicy, warming drink is extremely popular throughout Arab countries. Although it is not traditional to do so, yansoon is also wonderful made with milk.

Serves 4

4 cups (32 oz.) water
1-inch piece (1/2 inch in diameter) peeled ginger, thinly sliced
6 whole star anise
5 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
sugar (to taste)
2 Tbsp. toasted sliced almonds for garnish
4 cinnamon sticks for garnish (optional)

Combine water, ginger, anise, cloves, and cinnamon stick in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil; cook 5 minutes. Sweeten to taste with sugar. Strain yansoon into warm mugs. Sprinkle each serving with almonds; garnish with cinnamon stick, if desired.

Excerpted from The Ultimate Liquor-Free Drink Guide by Sharon Tyler Herbst. Copyright © 2002 by Sharon Tyler Herbst. Excerpted by permission of Clarkson Potter, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/23/really-healthy-winter-warmers/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/22/thinking-my-own-thoughts/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/22/thinking-my-own-thoughts/#comments Thu, 22 Dec 2011 05:05:58 +0000 Ruth Farmer http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26127
Graphics:©The Magazine of Yoga.

The waters have receded. The roads have been cleared and patched. Fresh piles of rocks and gravel and newly excavated dirt tell the story of recovery. I’m on retreat.

BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST RUTH FARMER

I am not even driving my own car. In fact, I am not driving a car at all. It is a white Dodge minivan with a dashboard that looks like the cockpit of a small plane. My 1998 Toyota Camry is in the shop. It is not my idea for it to be in the shop at this time, but that is a chapter in a continuing story of capitulation to others.

Who would have thought it would be so difficult to rent a car in Burlington? After calling around, my partner and I drove to the airport and hoped for the best. Avis/Budget had vehicles, a sign alerted us. The choices? Ford F150 pickup trucks and Dodge minivans.

So here I am. In my driveway perched in a cockpit, thinking of the days ahead, days of not worrying about anyone but myself. I turn the ignition. Icons flash on the dashboard one at time, pause to let me contemplate their clustered brilliance. Disappear one by one. All but one. The car explains – “low tire pressure” – then pings several times. Stops. The icon stares at me. I stare at it. It is shaped like a ten-stringed harp.

In my fatigue, a harp as a symbol for low tire pressure makes sense.

Patience and perseverance

I drive to the store, come back, park, load my luggage, turn the key, ready to get on my way. Ping! “Low tire pressure.” Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Stare.

##*!!**#!!

After months of trying to get a reservation, I am on my way to the Weston Priory for a brief, self-directed retreat. And I’ve got to put air into the tire of a rented vehicle.

Ignore the harp! Get going! some part of me says. So I stop at Spear’s Garage. It’s probably called something completely different but I’ve always known it as Spear’s so that’s what it is. I ask the mechanic for help determining adequate tire pressure. I do not want to overinflate the tires of this rented van. The mechanic finds that it is the left front tire whose pressure is low. He fills it, won’t take payment. I am grateful. His generosity calms me.

I am driving a rented minivan, I’ve had air put in the tire, I’ve delayed departure at least two hours and I’ll have to cut my trip short so that I can return the van on time. Nevertheless, I am going.

Journey of recovery inside and out

As I drive along Route 7, I shed anxiety and focus on my journey. The trees are lushly green, though it is late September. Vermont had a rain-soaked spring that turned to serious flooding in most areas of the state. Then in August, Tropical Storm Irene ripped through, causing flash floods that swept away homes, roads, vehicles, crops, and more. I am headed toward Southwestern Vermont, one of the worst hit areas. But the Guest Brother assures me that the priory is fine and the roads are open.

He is right. The waters have receded. The roads have been cleared and patched. Fresh piles of rocks and gravel and newly excavated dirt tell the story of recovery.

At each stage in the journey, just as I think I am lost, the next landmark appears. After a little over two hours, I arrive. I have two days to myself. The women I meet have been here for a week. But two days are a gift after months of being primary caretaker for my injured partner.

I am sitting next to the pond on this Friday afternoon, watching dragonflies skim the water. Tiny bugs ripple the gray surface. Apples perfume the air. I sit beneath a tree surrounded by crushed and half-eaten fruit. Later I will eat applesauce made from Priory apples.

Placidly amid the rifle fire and ecstasy

There is no cell phone service, no Wi-Fi. Visitors come here for contemplation, so social banter is minimal. Folks walk past, wave, keep walking. They converse in low tones that keep their conversations among themselves. I am aware of how overloaded I have been with activity and noise in my daily life. Birds, insects, and the wind busy the ear with their activities. But there isn’t noise. Until there is.

In the evening, as congregants sit waiting for evening service to begin, gunfire erupts. As I live near a shooting range, I hardly notice; but some visitors are distressed. It is nearing hunting season, so folks are practicing killing. We are trying to focus on that still small voice and someone is perfecting his aim, the better to bag a buck.

I am sitting, absorbing the silence between the noise of the gunfire. I am feeling the connection of a stranger in a strange place. I am marveling at the joy and – yes – professionalism of the Brothers’ songs of worship. The words and music glide over me and through me. I am ecstatic at the simplicity of sitting in a three walled barn, listening to psalms being sung, watching evening slowly slip upon us.

I am in each moment.

Thinking my own thoughts.

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/22/thinking-my-own-thoughts/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/17/written-in-pencil-12-17/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/17/written-in-pencil-12-17/#comments Sat, 17 Dec 2011 05:05:30 +0000 Joanna Heller http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26278
Graphics: ©The Magazine of Yoga™

December Diary

BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST JOANNA HELLER

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. Very favorite foods and very loved people. And ritualized time and space to invite gratitude.

My son-in-law David roasted the turkey, the sweet potatoes, the white potatoes, carrots, stuffing … and we stuffed ourselves. Deborah made a really great pumpkin pie, some amazing non dairy ice cream, and I’m sure, many last minute shopping trips. And she greased any wheels necessary to smooth the event. One of her many strengths. Nine year old Jacob diced vegetables and made a delicious soup as well as a very very chocolate cake.

But as all the Thanksgiving feasts begin to cool down, a page turns.

Shifting energy as the year winds down

I’m sad to see the warm rich orangy earth tones of the harvest season disappear as the fallen leaves are raked into piles and the pumpkins disappear. Then the foreground is the deep dark green of spruce and fir trees, holly leaves, and the red of winter berries. Chilly.

I prolong the feast. I eat the leftover cranberry sauce, stuffing, and sweet potatoes for as long as I can make them last. They’re fine with turkey, fine with chicken or fine with toast for that matter. Actually, I happily eat that stuff with just about anything. But before long I start to feel a bit alone as the world suddenly shifts to the big winter holiday season.

Xmas music and advertising appear everywhere. Likewise blinking lights.

Dark green wreaths with red bows appear on doors, windows and walls. And on automobile radiators. I imagine the needles flying into the radiator and clogging up the works. The hardware store, the grocery store, the coffee shop, and every restaurant. All suddenly decorated in those unvarying shades of red and green.

Everybody has apparently left the Thanksgiving table and gone directly to the attic or the basement to dig out the dusty Xmas decorations box.

Solstice merry in the blood, a little jangly in the nerves

These December days are the big big holiday. But not for me. I’ve never really felt at home with this holiday. I am not quite here and I am not quite not here. I paddle along the edges watching the mainstream swim by.

The excitement vibrates all around me. Advertising reaches it’s annual peak pushing countless tons of brand new, shiny shoddy plastic stuff and compulsive gift giving. Background music and blinking lights everywhere. I wait at the edge for things to settle.

On the other hand, although I don’t live by a school calendar these days, I feel vacation week freedom in the air. And on that same hand, some of the music is surely soul stirring …

Not Muzak. Not “Jingle Bells”.

An experience of connected community

This year the change of season is particularly jarring as I am still breathing the energy I felt in Italy. The late summer early autumn warm sun and Mediterranean light. The Tuscan countryside with its terraced hills, and open fields of grape vines punctuated by Mediterranean cypresses. And the fig trees with their luscious figs ready to be picked.

I loved our week in Lucca walking out the door early each morning, stopping for a cappuccino, refilling our water bottle at the public fountain, or just walking the neighborhood as it came alive. The Luchese walking or bicycling to work or to the market or stopping to chat with neighbors at their windows.

And the days in Venice sitting at the edge of the Grand Canal with morning panini and cappuccino watching groups of art students carrying their projects to school. It was very easy to be present in those moments. Also easy to be present in the peace of the Peggy Guggenheim Museum garden.

And also easy in the long walks in Rome each day getting lost repeatedly while searching for the right bus to reach one famous spot or other only to find ourselves in easy view of yet another enormous ancient ruin from another lifetime, another century.

Quiet and time to clear space for new life on its way

Here in Connecticut, I miss all that. When I walk outside my suburban raised ranch house I am in a driveway facing a road. Fairly empty. This road doesn’t ever come to life. Or have much of a past either. No one leans on their window sill to chat with a passing neighbor. There are no passing neighbors. Not walking anyway. And the windows have screens, not sills. They keep the bugs out. And the neighborhood, too. It just doesn’t work the same way.

Our December days are still getting shorter and the afternoons bring a chill. I will take this time to rethink and reorganize. I have spent many more Xmas weeks and New Year’s Eves cleaning closets and sorting accumulated piles of mail and magazines than I have spent drinking toasts. This works pretty well. The new season is a turn in the road. And it’s a revived sense of possibility as the winter solstice arrives and the hours of day and night abruptly reverse course.

Suddenly the days will stop getting shorter. They will stand still for a moment and then turn on their heel and start to lengthen. And the road bends toward spring. Fresh pale green leaves will appear. More light. More warmth. A good time to reclaim my present moments.

And a perfect time to remember Mary Oliver

“Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/17/written-in-pencil-12-17/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/16/really-healthy-jewish-holiday-cooking/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/16/really-healthy-jewish-holiday-cooking/#comments Fri, 16 Dec 2011 05:05:01 +0000 The Magazine of Yoga Staff http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26261
Book Jacket: @Random House; Chard photo: cc by BLcarnut

Even where some of the more stringent commandments have been forgotten, the festive holiday get-togethers are scrupulously and lovingly perpetuated.

SELECTED BY THE MAGAZINE OF YOGA STAFF

Excerpted from Quiches, Kugels, and Couscous and Jewish Holiday Cookbook by Joan Nathan. © 2010 and 2004 by Joan Nathan.

For many people of all ethnic groups, holidays are the last ties binding them to their family and their traditions. Whether or not they have adopted standard American daily fare, they turn to traditional, ethnic food for the holidays. This is even more true for the Jews, given the importance of our dietary laws and the table-centered rituals involved in the Sabbath and holidays. Judaism is a religion based on the combination of belief, practice, and piety. Many of the commandments require some sort of accompanying physical action for fulfillment. The symbolic foods are just one of the means by which the lofty ideas of Judaism are transmitted to everyday living. One can see that even where some of the more stringent commandments have been forgotten, the festive holiday get-togethers are scrupulously and lovingly perpetuated.

Salade de Blettes

(MOROCCAN BEET LEAF OR SWISS CHARD SALAD)

Moroccan cooks usually make this tasty salad with Swiss chard, but I have seen it also with beet leaves. Eaten all year round, it is prepared by Moroccans on Rosh Hashanah for their Sephardic Seder, when they say a series of blessings over squash, leeks, dates, pomegranates, black- eyed peas, apples, the head of a fish or a lamb, and Swiss chard and beet greens.

1/3 cup peanut, grapeseed, or vegetable oil
2 bunches of Swiss chard or beet leaves with stems, coarsely chopped (about 1 pound)
4 cloves garlic, minced
Salt to taste
1 teaspoon sweet paprika
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon harissa, or to taste
1/4 cup white vinegar or lemon juice
Freshly ground pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a medium skillet. Toss in the garlic, sautéing until just fragrant, then add the chard and cook for a few minutes. Sprinkle on a little salt, the paprika, cumin, and harissa, and cook for another minute, stirring. Pour the vinegar or lemon juice into the pan, and cook for another minute, or until it has begun to evaporate. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper to taste. Serve at room temperature.

Yields 4-6 servings.

Excerpted from Quiches, Kugels, and Couscous by Joan Nathan. Copyright © 2010 by Joan Nathan. Excerpted by permission of Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Ashkenazic Apple-Nut Haroset

Makes 3 cups

6 McIntosh or Gala apples (2 pounds), peeled, cored, seeded, and coarsely chopped
2/3 cup chopped almonds
3 tablespoons sugar, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Grated zest of 1 lemon
4 tablespoons sweet red wine

1. Combine all the ingredients, mixing together thoroughly. Add a little more wine as needed.

2. Blend (you can use a food processor) until it reaches the desired consistency. (I like my haroset in large pieces, with a crunchy texture, but my husband’s Polish family prefers theirs ground to a paste.) Chill.

Excerpted from Joan Nathan’s Jewish Holiday Cookbook by Joan Nathan. Copyright © 2004 by Joan Nathan. Excerpted by permission of Schocken, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/16/really-healthy-jewish-holiday-cooking/feed/ 0 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/15/burning-through/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/15/burning-through/#comments Thu, 15 Dec 2011 05:05:23 +0000 Anna Guest-Jelley http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26120
All Graphics: ©The Magazine of Yoga



Grief has freed me to drop down into a different energy, one that is clear about the kind of life I want to live.

BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST ANNA GUEST-JELLEY

When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.
-Stars


My dad died two months ago. And, to tell you the truth (although I’d kind of prefer not to), right now? I’m feeling okay. In many ways, it makes me feel incredibly guilty to say this. I worry I’m in denial, or that I didn’t love my dad enough (although we were actually very close), or that I’ve been a sociopath all along and it’s only now coming to light.



Now, I didn’t say I’m feeling good. Let’s not get too crazy. But, most days, when I think of my dad, it’s with love and a smile. Those things may be accompanied by tears or they may not. And while I have certainly had some really hard days, and will continue to, the depths of sorrow are not my current home address.



Setting aside the possibility that I have something fundamentally wrong with me (I promise to consult my therapist about that next week), I think there’s only one reason I’m here today instead of where I thought I’d be (in bed indefinitely): I let go of my resistance to sensation.



Feeling In



Since my dad was diagnosed with cancer in 2007, I’ve been grieving — not every day (or even most), often not actively, but still going through the process. Every time his cancer came back, worse than before, I grieved. Every time I spent a lovely week with him, I grieved, knowing how that wouldn’t last forever. Every time I thought of how I’d never get to see him as a grandpa, I grieved.  And you know what? That really freakin’ sucked. I hated every minute of it. I hated that my dad had cancer. I hated that I couldn’t save him with some cockamamie scheme I read about online. I hated feeling sad.



In other words, I hate hate hated it. But you know what? Hating it was still an access point — an entree to my feelings — which, if you know me (or even if you don’t but can think of someone else who avoids their feelings at all costs), is nothing short of a miracle. And this miracle? Started on my yoga mat. What began for me over twelve years ago as an intensely physical practice, a prayer for weight loss, hasn’t taken me anywhere I thought it would. Instead of taking me to balancing on the tip of my nose or the body of my so-called dreams, it’s taken me deeper and deeper and deeper inside. Every time I discover something new in the caverns of my body (“Oh! my sacrum is really tight! It was just so tight that I couldn’t even notice it until now”), a corollary (although not always timely) bravery shows up in my life — a willingness to plumb the depths of my experience just a little bit more.



So by the time we got to my dad’s last few days, I felt ready to just strip it all down and be right there in the thick of it. And I did. I got to tell him everything I wanted to (although I wasn’t sure what he could hear). I was able to cry and feel nauseous but hungry and then not want to eat anything. I felt like my heart would explode. I felt like I might pass out. I felt so grateful I could be there that I almost couldn’t stand up. I felt so deeply relieved that my dad was dying on his own terms that it just didn’t even seem possible. 



In other words, I just felt into it all. And after my dad passed away, I was able to gather my things and leave the hospital with my mom and sister. Then on the way to the car, it hit me: my legs are moving. And I’m taking a deep breath. And another. And another.



The Fire of Transformation



I once worked at an office that burned down (fortunately, while no one was there). About half of the building literally burned all the way down to the ground. The other half (where I worked) came close.



I remember this experience extremely vividly because it was so surreal. While I didn’t witness the flames, I did arrive shortly after they were put out. The firefighters let us in for a bit to see if we could salvage anything until they decided it was too dangerous (which, in retrospect, I’m thankful for. Rooting around without a helmet in an office with a collapsed ceiling is really not the best idea).



What I remember most about this experience is that one of my coworkers, who was and still is a good friend, lost absolutely everything in the fire. She didn’t even have to bother with picking through the remains because there was nothing left. Out of everyone in the office, she had one of the biggest “rights” to complain. But instead? She just walked away and started making her files and scheduling her appointments anew. The fire had set her free.



Grief as Fuel



People don’t often talk about what grief feels like. I suppose that’s because people don’t often talk about what many things feel like, much less something as big and confusing as grief. But for me? It feels kind of like freedom.



I know that our society often equates freedom with good, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes freedom is just freedom — neither good nor bad. And that’s what it feels like for me. There’s a real clearing out quality to it. It’s made me drop down into a different energy, one that is clear about the kind of life I want to live, one that is grateful for the many blessings surrounding my dad’s passing (although I certainly wish he was still with us and had never even been diagnosed with cancer) and one that is willing to set some boundaries.



Because if there is one thing grief has given me, it’s the freedom of permission. Permission to feel. Permission to cry. Permission to slow things down. Permission to practice yoga every day. Permission to take five baths a week. Permission to trust my gut. Permission to see how the moment unfolds. Permission to say no to things that aren’t a good fit for me. Permission to see the thin veil between this world and the next. Permission to drop deep inside and put a cup to my ear and just listen. And, perhaps most importantly, permission to burn (not blaze) through instead of up.


How many nights must it take
one such as me to learn
that we aren’t, after all, made
from that bird that flies out of its ashes,   
that for us
as we go up in flames, our one work
is
to open ourselves, to be
the flames?
-Galway Kinnell

Anna Guest-Jelley is an advocate for women’s rights by day, a yoga teacher by night, and a puppies’ mama all the time. She is making her way through life with joy, curves and all. Visit her at her website Curvy Yoga and on Facebook and Twitter.

]]> http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/15/burning-through/feed/ 2 http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/09/really-healthy-roasted-root-vegetables/ http://themagazineofyoga.com/blog/2011/12/09/really-healthy-roasted-root-vegetables/#comments Fri, 09 Dec 2011 05:05:00 +0000 The Magazine of Yoga Staff http://themagazineofyoga.com/?p=26154
Photo: cc by Dinner Series, thanks!

If you’ve never tried this preparation of veggies, you’re going to be surprised how roasting brings out the natural sweetness!

BY THE MAGAZINE OF YOGA STAFF

Holiday headaches? Shopping, stress and a crazy schedule may bring on a pounding head, but so can the food we eat when we’re too busy to cook. Office parties, family get-togethers, and boxes of treats sitting at the edge of every desk can tip the balance from fun to eat to funky snack-food hangover in a tinsel town minute, especially if you aren’t getting good, basic food once a day.

If you’re overwhelmed, don’t fret, preheat your oven! With ten minutes of prep you can put a meal or two of high fiber, hearty nutrition on your table and in your lunch for the next day.

One of our favorite recipes for an easy, fast and healthy meal is roasted root vegetables. If you’ve never tried this preparation of veggies, you’re going to be surprised how roasting brings out the natural sweetness!

Flexible, yummy, easy

No need for haute cuisine technique or precision measuring, this recipe adapts to the moment: what’s fresh at the grocery store, what you happen to have in your pantry, how many people you’re cooking for, and what your taste dictates.

Use any combination of types of root vegetables that inspire you. Add garlic, or herbs, or don’t. Cut them into 1-inch bite-sized morsels, or make larger chunky wedges.

Once done, combine with cooked brown rice and a simply steamed green vegetable, and you’ve got a delicious and warmly satisfying meal to get you grounded amid the holiday madness.

Roasted Root Vegetables

Ingredients

Variety of root vegetables, such as
- carrots
- rutabagas
- turnips
- parsnips
- yams or sweet potatoes
- beets
- celery root
- potatoes
- onion
- whole crimini mushrooms (not a root, but a nice addition!)
Whole garlic cloves (optional)
Rosemary, thyme, or other favorite herbs (optional)
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

Preparation

1. Preheat oven to 400º.

2. Choose, rinse and peel a variety of vegetables, as many or as few as you’d like. Chop them into roughly uniformly sized pieces. 1-inch pieces or large wedges both make nice presentations. The important part is to make all the vegetables approximately the same size so they’ll be done at the same time.

3. Toss the vegetables (and garlic cloves, if using) in a light coating of olive oil. Add salt, freshly ground pepper and any herbs you might be using.

4. Spread the vegetables out in a single layer in a baking dish or on a baking sheet (with sides).

5. Put in the oven and patiently await the amazing aroma about to waft from your kitchen. Roast, stirring every 15 minutes, until nicely caramelized and tender. This can be anywhere from a total of 45 minutes to as much as 75, depending on the size of your vegetables and how tender and browned you like them.

6. Enjoy your roots hot out of the oven or at room temperature.

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