What Happens When You Jump

Sometime in my adulthood my mom said to me that “Just when I think you couldn’t do anything more to surprise me, you surprise me again!”

Sometimes I think I can see when I’ve done something that might suprise someone who thinks they know me and have figured me out. Today is one of those days!

I’m on Bee’s Candida Program and read the wonderful listserv daily. It gives me comfort to see others have similar experiences, questions and concerns as me, in the many and various ways candida effects one’s health and overall state of being. Additionally, reading the questions and always careful, detailed, informational replies helps me to slowly integrate and grok the information this diet is based on.

For starters, fat. I was brought up on margarine and skim milk. Now I’m being told certain (key word) fats are supurb and essential for one’s health and healing. The other day someone posted something about pork rinds. Here in Mexico I see chicharron sold in the markets but never have tried it, thinking it must be a real heart clogger. Only to read today on Bee’s listserv that it’s a great snack that is allowed on this diet! I read that it’s not hard to make at home so started investigating on the internet. I found several recipes, one for deep frying, one for baking. The oven where I live is questionable so I was (nervously) considering getting some lard (also not in my food repetoire), buying some pork fat (though I’m not clear if chicharron is pork skin, pork fat, or some of both), cutting it up and and frying it.

I decided to visit the pig meat vendor and talk to her about it. She sells chicharron. I asked her how it was made. Was it fried? She told me it was boiled, nothing more. I asked her if all of what she made has salt. “Yes, but only a little”, she replied. “Too bad, I said, I’d prefer to put on my own salt as I like to use sea salt. ” “The salt I use is the large grain type,” she said, excitedly, “sea salt!” Maybe. She gave me a sample. Heaven. Greasy, light, mildly salty…satisfying! And legal!! I bought some. I asked her how long it lasts and how to keep it. She said “two weeks. Wrape it first in paper then in plastic.” I’ll soon be travelling and was a bit concerned about what I could bring with me on the plane and to eat for the whole day…that would satisfy me. Now I have chicharron!

What a surprising day. If you had told me when I became a vegetarian at 15 that I’d be relishing pork rinds, I would have rolled my inner eyes. Life is suprising and so am I. And how great is that. It allows me to release (sometimes more than grudgingly) the past and engage the new present. And to dance.

You know that analogy about the importance of being flexible (in the face of  change) like a willow tree?

I had a gazebo on my roof, poles secured in buckets of earth.

Three male friends (not blaming men, but I think it is interesting!) very strongly suggested that I secure the poles to screws stuck into the cement because the gazebo top would be like a sail in strong winds and the whole thing could blow away.

I had the poles secured into the cement recently. I noticed an annoying creaking above me when wind would rock the structure.

The other night I went up to the roof to check how much water we had in the tinaco and noticed a cockeyed abomination in shadow. My gazebo, torqued and tipped, torn and broken.

The lesson is so obvious and simple. The poles were secured so tightly that they could not sway flexibly and perhaps sustainably with the flows of the wind.

Torqued gazebo

Torn gazebo

There’s several things I’ve had on my mind to write about.

I could write about how several months back I won a “Best Blog Award” and “Superior Scribbler Award”, by Katherine Jenkins. Here’ what Kathrine said about my blog: “I like this woman’s view on life. You can read about how she gave everything up to live a simple life in Mexico. Very interesting stories, ideas, and thoughts on how to live a simple and fulfilling life on the planet and have the courage to do it.”

It seems that’s the sort of thing one could really use to promote one’s blog. As I don’t feel I’m really up onthat, I waited.I could write about how when I was in an acupuncture clinic in Mexico City, in the women’s treatment room with about ten of us on treatment cots, the woman next to me’s suction cup on her leg blew off and blood splattered from her leg vein all across the room. It landed on my cot, the wall opposite us, on a woman on the other side of the room, and the floor. They sent in someone with a mop. After that we kept finding more spots with blood, which were wiped with a paper towel. The funniest thought to me was “This could NEVER happen in the states!”

I could write about how my Chi Kung teacher is such a wonderful model of a person to me. How at the end of our retreat, he invited one of the manager’s of the place where the retreat had been held (who is also an allopathic and traditional doctor), to join us in our closing session, where we would have our final exhibition and discuss how the retreat was for us, how we felt about our time including the accomodations, and what would we like to see happen at retreats in the future. That my teacher included the manager in this conversation was impressive. I thought (again) “This would NEVER happen in the states”, where the management, someone working for us would be included in our group as and equal. The words in my head were: “This is how to build and have community.”

Tibetan Kalachakra Sand Mandala

Instead, what I feel moved to communicate to you today is how these days I’m practising a sand mandala method of journaling. Are you familiar with how certain Buddhist Monks spend days at a time pouring fine colored sand on the ground, creating an elaborate mandala of sand as a prayer? At the end, they sweep it up. The ultimate in non attachment.

Lately I’ve taken to journaling on the back sides of used paper. As I finish a page I release it, appreciating its wind on my leg as it flutters to the floor. When I’m done, I collect and fold the pages and put them in the garbage, to be burned.

This is very different from my attitude about writing in the past. When I was going through my things before leaving for Mexico I spent some hours going through my large box of stacks of journals, that I’d been writing since I was fifteen. I always wanted to save them because they seemed the most important objects about me. I thought, “some day when I write a book, I will pull out the incredible beauty, wisdom and learnings that have come to me in words over the course of my life. If something happens to me, or if I die a natural death of old age, my daughter will be able to scour these for clues about her mother.” I burned most of those journals ceremonially.

All things change. This will too. For now, I appreciate my natural unattachment to hanging on to these words and processes, appreciating them for the healing they offer me in the moment I seek it.

Please read this article in it’s (brief) entirety. A hospital in China that uses Chi Gong, and where those who come for healing from illness and disease are called  STUDENTS, not patients!

http://www.chilel.com/WhatIsChilelQigong/hospital.htm

Caldo de Pescado

INGREDIENTS
2 red snappers, descaled and chopped into several pieces, bones, organs and all.

fava beans, red lentils or moong dal, cooked till very soft with chopped vegetables of your choice, garlic, onion, and turmeric powder. (for example: chopped carrots, brocolli, spinach, chayote squash etc.)

1 can coconut milk

fresh stalk of lemon grass (if you only have dried and cut, tie in a muslin pouch so you don’t have loose unchewable pieces of the plant disturbing your otherwise pleasant eating experience)

fresh grated ginger ( a palmful)
optional spices: coriander seeds, cumin seeds, anise seeds - any or all.

salt to taste

juice of between 4-6 lemons, to taste (no seeds!)

fresh coriander leaves, basil leaves, thyme leaves chopped

INSTRUCTIONS
Cook beans with vegetables.
Blend 2/3 of the bean/vegetable mixture
Put fish, all beans and veggies (blended and whole) in a large pot. Add flavoring ingredients from list up to “salt” and let boil for about 15 minutes, till the fish falls apart and off the bone.

Add lemon juice and salt to taste
Toss in fresh chopped herbs

Serve with crackers and dark green leafy salad tossed with lemon juice, olive oil and freshly chopped garlic, and an extra bowl into which you will toss the bones you have carefully picked out of your soup before putting the spoon in your mouth!!!

I arrived at the home of Don José to learn the process of and help with the preparation of barbacoa in honor of his granddaughter’s quince años (I’ve had barbacoa de rez (cow meat) and de borrego (lamb). The meat is tender and delicious and I had been told it was cooked overnight in a hole dug in the ground, covered with banana leaves. So when Don José invited me to his granddaughter’s quince años (a coming of age extravaganza) and said there would be barbacoa, I asked if I could watch and help.

I arrived in the early afternoon and the cow lay in two large pieces on a long table in the outdoor bamboo walled kitchen. Don José was already well into the cutting up of the cow and appeared to have been at it for hours.

The cow was one of Don José’s that had freely roamed the mountains of the village. He’d taken it to the nearby town in the morning to have someone kill it, skin it and deliver it. All the parts were there and all were dealt with.

Already a small table behind us had a pile of fat on it. As Don José carved the meat, when he came to a part with a lot of fat, he cut it off and tossed it on the small table. Soon that became my first job, and as I watched my friend of 70 years cut the fresh meat as he had so many times since his boyhood, I became attuned to sometimes half kilos or more of fat being cut, and held out my hands to catch them as they fell from the meat. Don José explained to me that he was going to use that pile of fat to make medicine later.

The cow had many compartments of meat, each with grain running in its own direction and separated from the others by tissue. Don José worked section by section, telling me the names of each cut of meat and explaining which part of the body he was presently cutting.

Three enormous vats sat on low stands of cement blocks behind us and next to the small table with the fat scraps. The metal pots were about five feet in diameter and rose up to my chest. Under them would be built fires to cook the cow, which was going to serve 1500 guests the following day.  Already one pot had the cow’s stomach in the bottom, holding all the intestines. Later, Don José and I mixed the intoxicatingly aromatic salsa that his wife Celia had prepared for the barbacoa into the heavy pile of intestines. Don José cut a long narrow stick, sharpening one end with his machete and together we punctured holes near the top edges of the stomach and “sewed” the skewer through the holes, securing the huge pouch and it’s contents.

Don José cut as much meat as possible from the first half of cow but there were the ribs (separated from the spine two by two) and other bones that needed to be cut into more manageable pieces. I made a pile of those on one end of the table and together we heaved the second half of cow into the center of the table.

Don José’s teenage nephew came by and asked “was it the one with the curly tail?” Don José affirmed that it was and the boy gazed sadly at the animal on the table. The boy was told to go fetch a tall strong log that we could use as a chopping block for the bone pieces and we washed and leveled it in front of the long table. Don José got his axe and with precise aim, began chopping between vertebrae and also cutting meter long ribs into smaller pieces. Don José was tired I could tell. He’d been working all day, hadn’t eaten, and still had half a cow to go. I offered him some water. He accepted gratefully and added that he really wanted a beer, but I told him better to finish his work first. (I’ve seen how alcohol can change a person’ energy level and attitude!)

At dusk I left for another commitment and returned, as agreed, at 5:00 the next morning. The street was quiet and the sky black when I arrived at Don José’s. The stick and wire gate was secured over the driveway and so I could not enter. I tried to undo the gate where the wire wrapped around something but could not. Then the dogs (Don José has about 5) heard me and started making a racket. The barking disturbed the quiet and I was concerned would wake the family, but at the same time, I wanted them to know I was there so was glad for the noise. Soon Don José came to the gate and let me in. He’d woken up five minutes before my arrival and had started pouring water in the bottom of the pots. Other men with sharper axes and a saw had come the night before and so when I arrived all the meat was in a huge shallow tin bucket, marinading in Celia’s salsa that smelled exquisite and reminiscent of the spices used in Tandoori chicken. Lots of garlic, onion, cumin and guajillo chili. The long table was now void of the animal and bones, yet the white smooth lengths of marrow we had pulled from inside the spine were still flung over the metal bucket hanging on the wall. I asked Don José about them and he acknowledged with disappointment that he’d forgotten about them. I asked what he would do with them, knowing they had to be very nutritious. He said you soak them in lemon juice, slice them and roll them in a tortilla. It’s a real treat.

I rolled up my sleeves and we began carefully layering pieces of marinated meat into the three vats. I  picked up the nose out of the marinade and placed it into a pot. Later I picked up the surprising small soft brain and carried it carefully to a pot where I lowered it. Don José left for a moment and returned with a bottle of tequila and prayed to the four directions with the tequila as it  poured into the pot. A blessing and benediction for the act we were engaging in.

By now the sky was lightening to gray and Celia came out reminding us we needed to add avocado leaf and episote to the barbacoa. She went and cut several narrow branches with the large green leaves and we placed them on top of the meat which practically filled each pot. Then we put the epasote and finally Don José decided to add a little salt for additional taste. I asked whether one always added avocado leaf and epasote and he told me it was so that noone would get sick from eating the barbacoa. Avocado leaf and episote, among many other plants are know to prevent parasitic worms and are eaten as everyday accompaniments to meals. I love the simple wisdom and practicality of this health preserving habit. As the  final step of barbacoa preparation, we covered the contents of the three pots with several large slabs of pig skin, then lay enormous black plastic bags over each pot, securing them. When the barbacoa was boiling well, Don José told me, the plastic lid would inflate and we would then puncture them.

Celia walked by and asked if we didn’t want to put some “seven venonos” into each pot. Seven venenos is a mixture one can buy or make that is a tincture of seven different poisonous creatures. Don José made his own, which he uses for healing, and I have spent long periods, sometimes with children, peering through the sides of the glass quart size jar trying to identify them all. There is a centipede , scorpion, spider, bee, wasp, and I’m not sure what else. I asked Don José why one would put the seven venenos into the barbacoa and he told me it’s to protect it in case somebody walks by who is angry. At this point I began to understand the importance of our vigil with the cooking meat. We were spiritually responsible for the outcome of this meat delicacy.

Don José went to the wood pile at the end of the narrow makeshift kitchen and began picking out long limbs to begin our three fires. The fires were lit and my friend informed me that though the barbacoa would be  finished cooking around 11:30, we could not leave the kitchen until 10:00 or 10 :30 in the morning. We positioned two plastic chairs facing the fires and sat, keeping our eyes on each fire, feeding more wood and growing the fire when needed by blowing through  meter long pieces of dried bamboo. In truth we spent more time squatting in front of our fires, guarding and caring for them than we did in the chairs, though I did sit as I enjoyed my first cup of locally harvested coffee. I had been told that coffee that grows around the village doesn’t have a lot of caffeine, and that in fact it is drunk at night, oftentimes to relax, and doesn’t keep one awake. I normally don’t drink coffee as I am extremely sensitive to the caffeine and felt no side effects from the brew, to my delight!

The hours passed meditatively and purposefully. When the pots were all a boil, Don José and I sat just outside the door and I watched him feed a bunch of newborn chickens raw grains of white rice. He delighted in watching them follow their mother and the toss of the grains and I felt him completely present to that moment. He correctly predicted that after eating, the chicks would head towards the outdoor washing sinks hoping to find little puddles of water to drink below them. This was a moment I treasured and my heart filled knowing that this was one of the simple pleasures of this elder’s life and one that I was honored and grateful to witness and share.

In case you missed it last year, here it is updated for 2010! Gorgeous colors and compositions to brighten your day all year long.
Enjoy and thanks for visiting http://www.zazzle.com/rainbowgate/gifts?cg=196659533824587384&ps=60

Remember the story about the bra tree? Well, I have an update!

The Papaya Tree changed it’s sex just as  Don Romulo said it could. The papaya tree with my bra on it now has the types of flowers growing on it that are growing on the sister (feminine) tree beside it!

Sex Change Papaya Tree

The next time I saw my landlord I showed him the tree. He laughed with excitement and we shook hands in hearty celebration.

There is something to old traditions!

I remember in Biology class in college learning about blue green algaes, that they were the first food on earth and that they contain the most energy directly from the sun. I remember learning about sun energy and how when we eat, we are really eating sun energy. The further away from the direct source, such as animals…who get their sun energy from the plants, who got theirs from the sun, the less energy for us when we eat them.
At that point eating plants and blue green algae seemed the obvious choices.

Now I’m in Mexico. The cosmology is based on the sun, one could say. One salutes the sun and the day each morning, acknowledging all elements and aspects, but none of it would exist without our Sun.

I’ve just listened to a lecture (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlCJPxxKoaY ) which talks about gazing at the sun (safely) every day to nourish and heal one’s eyes, brain, mind, body, and if one choses, spirit. The lecturer states that by beginning with gazing at the rising or setting sun 10 seconds the first day and adding 10 seconds every day there is sun after that,  that after three months (15 minutes a day) not only will one’s eyes will be healed (the first noticed benefit), but one’s brain will be taking in the sun’s energy and one’s mind will be balanced. After six months, physical and mental maladies will be healed, energy will be stored and appetite will be lessening.
At nine months (45 minutes a day. You can blink!) you will be fully charged and storing energy like a solar panel. From that time you only need to sun gaze 15 minutes a day to maintain the benefits you have gained by letting the sun energy enter and nourish your body.

The lecturer goes on to say that as our bodies only need energy to survive, that once we have stored enough energy and continue to take in 15 minutes of sun gazing a day, our bodies will begin to not need food (secondary sun energy), as it is being nourished by the energy of the sun directly.

He says that between safe sun gazing, safe sun bathing (when the sun warms not heats us) and charging our drinking water (put covered glass jar of water in sun during  one day), we can live well and healthy for the rest of our days.

Some months ago when I had susto (fright/trauma) from some scary experiences with street dogs, I went to a woman in the village for healing. I was to arrive as the first rays of the sun peeked over the mountain.

I recently learned a traditional healing technique for when someone’s spirit (sombra, shadow) leaves them due to some fright/trauma, also to be conducted with the first sun rays on the patient’s body.

The significance of the sun, in it’s simplest and profoundest terms is touching me now. This natural and profound connection with nature is what I need, desire and believe is how to live. Little by little, through the living wisdom that surrounds and supports me, these simple and profound ways are seeping in to my occidental mindset, like a slowly earned sun tan.

I was told that a common wild plant that grows here, called “Palo de Agua” can be used to whiten whites.

I conducted an experiment and besides being fun, it was effective!

Here is how I did it:

1. Put water and laundry soap in a bucket

2. Add white clothing/cloth (It really was more yellow than you can see here)

3. Pick some Palo de Agua leaves and mash them

Macerated Leaves of Palo de Agua

4. Add macerated leaves and juice to the bucket and mix

5. Leave over night

6. Rinse

7. Lay in full sun to dry.

8. Voila! It really was whiter!

Plant and Sun Bleached Garment