beauty that moves

thoughts on soup and yoga

One of my favorite things to cook is soups and stews. The process of layering the ingredients as I go has a mysterious quality that I find so appealing.  For me there is a journey that takes place, similar to that found on my yoga mat. Rarely do I follow a given recipe, or  a set practice.  I may be inspired by one or two ingredients, postures, the rest evolves from there. Almost always I start a pot of soup by gently sauteing onions, emphasis on gently, in olive oil and a little sea salt and pepper. A centering, a place of new beginnings, intentions. After the onions have mellowed and their sweetness begins to release, I add the garlic, aromas increase, senses become heightened, pranayama. From here it's led by intuition, the ingredients on hand, the season. Soup, like yoga, has the ability to take on many qualities; nourishment, healing, cleansing, rejuvenation, among others.

Tonight the experience led to a pot of creamy, broccoli cheddar, heavenly goodness. Inspired by one huge bunch of fresh broccoli from a farm nearby, and a rather large supply of milk from another local farm. I would say this wound up being the kind of soup that offered comfort, the kind of familiar yet longed for comfort that brings forth joy and contentment. Funny, without setting out to do so, I managed to mirror exactly what my practice has been for me lately.

To round out the meal, Emily and I made a focaccia type bread with some pizza dough we had on hand. Topped it with olive oil, fresh garlic, sea salt and pepper, fresh rosemary, and grated Parmigiano Reggiano. Perfect.

As I think about this, I realize that every time I make soup or stew, I always (unless it's miso) let it sit before it is served, with the heat turned off, the lid on, for at least twenty minutes. Space to integrate, the gifts of practice revealed, shavasana.

easily pleased

A new to me skirt, brightening my day, it doesn't take much you know. I want to believe this is vintage, it feels as though it is. This thrifted skirt is tag-less, leaving me uncertain of it's age or maker. It is however, well made of a crisp cotton that is not readily found these days, and the pattern makes me happy. So here I am sharing my new treasure, imagining it's origins... a first date perhaps, paired with a pink cardigan and a silk scarf tied in the hair of young innocence.

Sometimes I wonder what would be revealed if the amount of time I spend daydreaming were added up. Probably better off not knowing. Yes, better to live in this bubble of naivety. That also means that if any of you have this same skirt and you picked it up at the Gap or J Crew last year or the year before, please don't tell me , don't ruin the dream.

... hoping the evening will take them to lookout point, realizing it likely won't go past the soda shop, the rag top will not come down, there will be no stars to gaze upon, maybe on the second date...what will she wear?

craft show

Almost ready for the show tomorrow, I do hope the rain holds out. I owe a big thank you to my eternally dependable seam ripper. The man, not the tool.

you tube love

I've added a new category over on the sidebar. Thought I'd periodically share some You Tube Love. (I may have too much discretionary time on my hands this summer... ) Kicking it off with the ever inspiring Emma Weiss. Emma and I became yoga teachers together, she was 17 at the time. Emma was raised by incredibly creative and loving parents, in true unschooled style. She shines in everything she does. Emma's  19 now, working on her first album in between yoga teaching, permaculture certifying, stilt walking, song writing, community supporting, and simply being a rock star of a lady. I don't know who inspires me more, her or her parents. The second video has pretty bad visual quality, it was dark. One of my favorite songs of hers though so I added it. And who doesn't love a homemade banjo? (That would be the first video.)

Following Emma is a video about trail names and a group on the Appalachian Trail. I have a little fascination with trail name stories and a huge fascination with the AT.

Finally, Gabrielle Roth... because what's not to love about the 5 Rhythms?

That's all I've got today... don't worry, I won't give a running commentary each time I update over there. I'll show restraint. Have a great weekend everyone!

the stories that we weave

This is the story of linen pants. The story of their life as I know it. You see, they have come into my life recently, so I am at a loss as to the road they traveled before reaching me. I found these pants at the thrift store, the feel was great, the brand I trust, the pink ticket was 50% off that day. In so many ways they were right. In so many ways they were wrong.

First there was the elastic waist. Maybe when I'm 84, though I hope not, but at 34 there is no way for me to pull this off. I also can't stand the confinement of the elastic. I've tried a variety of ways, sometimes in skirts it works, never with pants. In part due to the second reason they are so wrong. These particular pants were also blessed by their designer with a high waist band. Now, I don't know a lot anything about fashion, but if I had one opinion it would be that the most brilliant fashion revolution in my lifetime would have to be when they lowered the waist on womens pants. I know it doesn't work for every body type, it does for mine. I'm not built like a boy, I have hips, I also have a small waist. Pants just fit better around my hips than my waist. When I tried on these linen, elastic waisted pants they wound up sitting somewhere around the middle of my rib cage. I don't know why, it's just where they had to be to stay put. Have you ever looked at your behind in the mirror when your pants are pulled up around your ribs? Yeah, not cute. You see, an elastic waisted skirt you can pull down a bit, let it sit on your hips. I won't even get in to what your fanny looks like when you pull down high waisted elastic pants to sit on the top of your hips. Let's just say the um, crotch, winds up hanging somewhere between mid-thigh and your knees giving the illusion of one very droopy derriere. Like I said, I'm not 84 but 34, I'm still going for cute as best I can. And as the years slip away quickly, I'm not taking any chances. Oh! And the third thing, tapered leg. I can't even speak about tapered legs.The three things that could be wrong for me, this pair had them all.

So, they weren't right for me as they were, this story of linen as pants needed to end. But the fabric is still so beautiful, strong and gorgeous, still holding so much life. A new story is about to be spun. What if this linen could spread it's wings, take on new life, many lives even? Would I be willing to let this story evolve, become something new? Why not, it's just a story after all. I snipped and measured, I gusseted and interfaced, I sewed steadily and hemmed patiently. And in the end, a new story appeared, three times. What was once entirely wrong, is now so very right.

Tonight I went to see a play at the summer youth theater of the town I grew up in. There was a line in one of the songs, "our lives become the stories that we weave." I've been thinking a lot about stories lately, so these words were sweet and reminded me of so much, including this project I had worked on all day. Who knows what lives these stories will weave from here. Two will be leaving, I've got a show on Saturday. One will be staying with me. A part of this story will always stay with me, entwined with thousands of other stories big and small, beautiful and painful, silly and wise, together weaving this life that I live.