Archive for gratitude

Then

Posted in farm, food, nice things, seasonal with tags , , , , , on October 22, 2012 by bosquechica

After a particularly unpleasant week, the weekend brought me rest and work and numerous small satisfactions. The summer clothes are put away, the winter clothes brought out. The pellet stove is operational, the bosque is bright with fall. I spent both Saturday and Sunday in full-on cooking meditation.

Like meditation, cooking requires a focus on the present: 1/4 tsp this, 1/2 cup that, oven preheated to 350, cut, stir, blend. When the mind wanders, bring it gently back to the task at hand, to the present moment. Here are some of the things I made:

Blueberry-apple pies
Cauliflower mushroom soup
Butternut squash soup
Cauliflower planks, oven roasted with panko-parmesan crust
Tatsoi, simply sauteed with garlic

Unlike sitting meditation, cooking meditation is a dynamic form of the art. With the body continuously engaged, the mind can stay in the moment, can set aside discontent and desires equally. When the chatter starts, bring the mind, the breath and the body back to the spatula, back to the onion. Focus on the smooth texture and the warm orange color of the of the soup as you stir. By the time dinner is served, I am happily mindless (or is it mindful?) and completely present. And with meals-ready-to-eat for the entire week to come. What a deal!

I find that I often need to remind myself to be grateful for weekends (thank you, unions!), for my beautiful home, for the bosque as it changes and the cranes as they circle overhead. I am grateful also for my own common sense and for stopping my whirling stressy thoughts for awhile. Stand, breathe, cook. Not a bad mantra, really.

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Oh woe is me

Posted in life, nice things, this-n-that with tags , , , , , on August 15, 2008 by bosquechica

This would be the post in which I whine about my pathetic life, with violin music in the background.

Well, no not really. Maybe just a little in the beginning.

To date: I had a wearying and self-absorbed three weeks at a new job (with benefits) and thought I was going to suffocate or go mad. So much like an assembly line, a sweat shop, so rote, so . . so . . so wrong for me.

I am a free-range chicken, apparently.

I’ve gone back to private practice. Back to the road. Back to my free-wheeling, take your chances contract life.

In other news:

Mrs. BC and I went to the Jemez last weekend for our anniversary and enjoyed it mightily. Friday was my last day at the new/old job, Saturday was the first anniversary since our lovely wedding last summer in Quebec and the 11th since our first ceremony.

We slept a bit and made good food and had massage and tubs at the hot springs. Then we went shopping and picked out jewelry for each other from the street vendor outside of the biker bar on the main street in Jemez. 

We played Scrabble and read cheap romance novels. We had bacon lettuce and tomato sandwiches for lunch.

The massage I had on the third day was the best. The massage therapist directed me to visualize my “happy place” and I, being quite malleable after three days of soaking, napping and lying around, immediately saw my own front yard, from various angles. The grape vines, the honeysuckle, the rose of sharon, the hollyhocks. The barns, the willow tree, the cottonwood, the geese marching solemnly, wings tucked back hasidim-wise, nodding their heads thoughtfully.

What a marvelous thing, how fortunate we are, my wife and I, to live in our own happy place. How lucky I am to be able to turn around and walk right back to my previous work, without even missing a step. How lucky the two of us to have found each other.

No woe allowed. I am too damn lucky.