Word Count Blogathon Day 23: Love of the Land

Land is the only thing in the world that amounts to anything,

for 'tis the only thing in this world that lasts.

Tis the only thing worth working for, worth fighting for -- worth dying for.

~ Gerald O’Hara, Gone with the Wind

“The only thing in this world that lasts.”  I never knew how much in common I had with Scarlett O’Hara until this past Saturday. 

I gathered together about ten of my closest girlfriends and invited them down to my childhood home for an afternoon tea celebrating the 75^th Anniversary of the publication of “Gone with the Wind.”  Any excuse to dress up, eat and spend time with friends!

The menu consisted of fried chicken, ham biscuits, green beans [with pork fat of course!], mashed potatoes and gravy, chocolate-pecan pie, southern tea cakes and a Kentucky Jam Cake, a quartet of wine-based sorbets, and plenty of Southern sweet tea, fresh made lemonade and mint juleps.

After our repast, we retired to the living room where I had set up a projector and a white bed sheet ~ we Southerners make do ~ and watched Scarlett and her entourage live through a heart-wrenching and momentous era in our nation’s history.  Even if you weren’t blessed to be born in the land of soft, Southern drawls and the smell of fried chicken and fresh biscuits, you can still appreciate the writing brilliance of Margaret Mitchell and the amazing vision of David Selznik.

Getting in Touch with My Inner Scarlett

When I first watched the movie, I was very young.  I admired the all the beautiful dresses and the broad expanse of land of Tara and the mannered yet manly gentlemen and wept over the burning of Atlanta.  Other than that, I didn’t understand much of it.  As the older, wiser me watched the movie, I still oohed and ahhed with my girlfriends over Scarlett’s famous green muslin “Twelve Oaks BBQ” dress, her green velvet “curtain” dress and her daring red “Ashley’s Birthday” outfit.  But a theme that I had missed as a child kept coming up to haunt me.

There is a scene, after the war is over and Scarlett is trying to save Tara from her old overseer.  She goes to Ashley to get his advice.  But poor Ashley is stuck like Lot’s wife, looking back at the life that once was and will never be again and has no practical advice to give.  At one point, Scarlett throws herself into his arms and states that they should run away because there’s nothing to keep either of them there.  But he points out that [besides his wife and son], there is something that Scarlett loves more than even him.  He picks up a handful of dirt and places it in her hand.

And that is when it struck me how like Scarlett I am ~ at least when it comes to an attachment to the land.  It gets in your blood.  No matter how far away you may go, or how many times your heart gets broken, or how many jobs you’ve lost, the pull of the land is always there.  And I realized that Gerald O’Hara was right: land is the only thing that lasts, the only thing worth fighting and dying for.

It is always difficult to leave the peace of the country and come back to the noise and indifferent city.  But this time it I felt like my arm had been amputated.  What this means for the future, I have no idea.  But I do know that our land, though nothing on scale of Tara, will always be an anchor and a priority for me and I’d rather die than let it go.

What about you?  What from your childhood still has a hold on you?  Has it had a negative or positive impact on you?

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

P.S. I admit I can be as tenacious as Scarlett, and yes, a little pouty at times. But I can say without reservation, that if a Rhett Butler came into my life, I would hold on to him with both hands! Fiddle-dee-dee!

Word Count Blogathon Day 22: Gone with the Wind Links

I can't go all my life waiting to catch you between husbands.
~ Rhett Butler

This weekend I am out in the country celebrating the 75th Anniversary of Gone with the Wind's publication with some of my close girlfriends.  Once I return, I promise to share pictures and bits of GWTW trivia.  Meanwhile, visit some of these sites for more GWTW news!

Vivian Leigh ~ a great blog all about Vivian Leigh and her role as Scarlett O'Hara.

Gone with the Wind Exhibit ~ wow.  Love. It.

Hooked on Houses ~ a post about Tara and Twelve Oaks with some great pictures of the movie set.

How We Do Run On ~ a GWTW scrapbook blog.  Beautiful fashion plates.

Margaret Mitchell House ~ a website of the house where GWTW was written.

Scarlett Online ~ a site dedicated to the feisty heroine.

GWTW Official Movie Site

GWTW, the movie ~ for those who [horror of horrors!] haven't seen it yet.

Scarlett O'Hardy's Museum ~ largest collection of movie memorabilia

Word Count Blogathon Day 21: Falling in Love with the Poetry of Dana Gioia, Part III

I am the past that feeds upon the present.

I am the darkness that daylight denies.

I am the sins that you must inherit--

The final truth in a world full of lies.

~ Dana Gioia

Gioia lamented that while we are living in a great age to be a poet in terms of making a living at it, the only people who appear to read poetry are other poets.  It has become mostly an academic pursuit, instead of the art once employed and enjoyed by the average reader.  

American poetry now belongs to a subculture. No longer part of the mainstream of artistic and intellectual life, it has become the specialized occupation of a relatively small and isolated group….Daily newspapers no longer review poetry….te large audience that still exists for quality fiction hardly notices poetry. A reader familiar with the novels of Joyce Carol Oates, John Updike, or John Barth may not even recognize the names of Gwendolyn Brooks, Gary Snyder, and W. D. Snodgrass. 1

Sadly, this seems to be the direction all art is taking ~ save, perhaps, music.  My dear, if you can’t understand it, you are hopelessly uncultured and uneducated!  But art is not meant to be picked apart like day old road kill.  As Gioa put it Tuesday evening, “the purpose of poetry, indeed of all literature, is to instruct, delight, console and commemorate.”  Academia is focused solely on the first purpose and has completely forgotten the other three.

Of course, that is not anything new: look at Christ: he spoke in parables to the crowds, never theology or philosophy.  And see how the academic critics of his day liked it!

To look at the issue in strictly economic terms, most contemporary poets have been alienated from their original cultural function. As Marx maintained and few economists have disputed, changes in a class's economic function eventually transform its values and behavior. In poetry's case, the socioeconomic changes have led to a divided literary culture: the superabundance of poetry within a small class and the impoverishment outside it. One might even say that outside the classroom—where society demands that the two groups interact—poets and the common reader are no longer on speaking terms. 2

How sad is that last statement.  I feel like there was a divorce and I never even knew he was gone!

Reclaiming Our First Love

So what can be done about it?  As I mentioned on Thursday, we should learn to see poetry with new eyes by hearing it recited properly.  And by that I mean with passion and feeling and with an understanding of the rhythm and flow of words.

Sullivan has mentioned that he wants to begin hosting poetry nights.  Each guest will be given a short poem to memorize, which they will then recite at the party.  I think it is a brilliant idea and cannot wait for the first installment.

If you’re still new to poetry and the thought of a party is too much, start by taking a day [or morning or afternoon], grab a book of Dana Gioia’s poetry and head to your favorite spot.  It could be down by the river, in a canoe on the lake, under a tall magnolia, at the local coffee shop, or simply at home on the porch.  Sip your tea [preferably Southern sweet tea, of course!] and let the imagery capture you and the words roll around your mind and off your tongue.

You’ll be surprised at how easy it is to fall in love . . .with poetry.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

1,2: taken from D. Gioia's Can Poetry Matter?

Word Count Blogathon Day 20: Falling in Love with the Poetry of Dana Gioia, Part II

Poetry speaks of things that are true, with words that are beautiful.

~ Dante Alighieri

Where does poetry come from?  And how exactly does one become a poet?  It often begins at our mother’s knee.  Dana Gioa’s mother recited Poe’s “Annabelle Lee” to him; mine read me Clyde Robert Bulla’s “The Moon Singer.”  Gioia mentioned that his mother came from a dirt poor background; the poetry she was taught to memorize in school was as he put it, a way for her to “access beauty.” For my own mother, reading was a magical wardrobe into a Narnia of learning and better opportunities.

Teach a child to read and you open up vast new worlds to him; breathing on the creative spark already burning within his tiny breast and setting his imagination ablaze.  Teach a child poetry and you open up, not just a new world, but “a different way of speaking and writing.”  That was Dana Gioia’s response when asked for the definition of poetry.  And a child who is introduced to poetry from a young age will remember and cherish those childhood poems well into adulthood.  I can still recite, with only some faltering, “If”,  “In Flanders Fields,” as well as the iconic “Trees.”

In Gioia’s case, his mother’s love of poetry races like quicksilver in his blood and has created a great American poet.  What is your love and what, or rather who, will it create?  Now is the time to fashion the next generation of poets and writers.  What steps will you take to incorporate poetry into your life and the lives of your children?

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Word Count Blogathon Day 19: Falling in Love with the Poetry of Dana Gioia, Part I

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,

They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.

I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I

Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,

A handful of grey ashes, long long ago at rest,

Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;

For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

 ~ William Johnson Cory

They told me, reader, that Dana Gioia would be speaking Tuesday night.  So to the University Club, my feet did fly.  And . . . I’m going to stop right there because I will just embarrass myself.  However, I did indeed meet Dana Gioia this past Tuesday at an evening conversation sponsored by The Trinity Forum on Poetry and Beauty in a Fallen World.

Recitation is the Key to Falling in Love . . . with Poetry

I was already a fan of his poetry ~ which seduces you with caressing lines and vivid imagery and his prose essays read almost like poetry, such is his lyrical mastery.  But it was his recitation of the poems ~ Cory’s “Heraclitus” quoted above, and his own “The Litany” ~ that bewitched my imagination and ignited intense emotions.

And Gioia said that it is this visceral reaction to the spoken word that gives poetry its warmth, its breath, its intoxicating scent.  Poetry is akin to music ~ the melodies come from the rhythm and cadence of the words and dramatic interpretation of the human speaker.  The majority of people, he said, do not enjoy poetry because they have never heard it recited properly.

For instance ~ and I apologize that I can only clumsily attempt to replicate his delivery, this being print after all ~ when speaking the last line of “Heraclitus,”  Gioia paused after “Death”, and emphasized “them”, with a slight breath before finishing the line and bowing his head slightly, as if in mourning.  In this sense, poetry recitation’s other sister is the art of acting, since the speaker will often infuse the words with the personality of the character speaking them.  In the case of “Heraclitus” the character speaking is Telemachus and Gioia became Telemachus, weeping at the news of the death of his friend.

It was then, with tears stinging my own eyes as I felt Telemachus' loss as if it were my own, that I truly fell in love with poetry.  And maybe . . . just a little . . . with Dana Gioia.

More on Dana and poetry tomorrow!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Word Count Blogathon Day 11: Relaxed Morning Pages

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise.  The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. 

~ Sylvia Plath

The key to Morning Pages is to relax. 

There is no one looking over your shoulder but you.  The point is to free write and get the ink flowing.  I know I’ve said this before, but at least for me, my poor little brain [or psyche] cannot seem to remember!  It stubbornly reverts back to an impossibly high standard that not even Jane Austen could reach!

Writers are human too.  [Although I swear I have ink in my veins instead of blood.]  We hear voices.  Some are good: they are the voices of our characters. Or the voices of supportive friends and family encouraging us to keep writing.  Some are downright evil: the voices of non-supportive friends and family, editors with an axe to grind [thankfully I’ve found those to be a minority!].  But our single worst enemy? 

Ourselves.

Our own fears, doubts, negative [and false] self-image.  We are the only obstacle holding us back.  Having lived with this type of harsh self-criticism for much of my life, I have tried various methods to silence them.  And I’ve discovered that I can’t really shut them up.  I need to shut them out.  Hire a second, bigger chorus to sing louder and in more beautiful tones in order to drown them out. 

This is the only way I have attained any peace, any writing sanity.

The alternative is to end up with an office strewn with unfinished manuscripts, half-begun short stories and un-submitted poems.  Oh, we use all sorts of excuses to explain our unfinished business: fear of rejection, haven’t found the right editor, it’s already been said before, etc., etc.  Rejection is indeed difficult to take, and finding the right editor and publisher is key, but there is more than one editor/publisher out there and in this age of self-publishing and blogging, those two excuses fade like dandelions gone to seed.

As for the excuse that it’s already been said before [oh yes, writers think this sometimes!], perhaps it has.  Actually, yes, it has.  But it has never been said with your voice, your heart, your experience.  We are each unique and un-repeatable gifts, with something very valuable to offer the world.  Your voice, your pen – is very much needed.

So get out there and write!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Word Count Blogathon Day 10: Haiku

Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric;
out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. 
~ W.B. Yeats

The theme for today's Blogathon post is to pen a haiku.  According to Wikipedia, a haiku "is a very short form of Japanese poetry typically characterised by three qualities:

• The essence of haiku is "cutting" (kiru).^[1] This is often represented by the juxtaposition of two images or ideas^[2] and a kireji or 'cutting word' between them, a kind of verbal punctuation mark which signals the moment of separation and colours the manner in which the juxtaposed elements are related.^[3]
• Traditional haiku consist of 17 on (also known as morae), in three phrases of 5, 7, and 5 on respectively.^[4] Any one of the three phrases may end with the kireji. Although haiku are often stated to have 17 syllables,^[5] this is inaccurate as syllables and on are not the same.
• A kigo (seasonal reference), usually drawn from a saijiki (歳時記), an extensive but defined list of such words. The majority of kigo, but not all, are drawn from the natural world. This, combined with the origins of haiku in pre-industrial Japan, has led to the inaccurate impression that haiku are necessarily nature poems."

But of course I like to colour outside of the lines.  So my haiku is 5-6-5.  Enjoy!

Within the circle
Freedom to fly away
Attached, love's anchor.

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

Word Count Blogathon Day 9: Staring Down the Page

So often is the virgin sheet of paper more real than what one has to say,

and so often one regrets having marred it. 

~ Harold Acton, Memoirs of an Aesthete

The urge to write is always with me ~ a slow, agonizing burn just below the skin.  Unfortunately, the only times I attempt to cool the flames is when I am supposed to be doing something else!  Then I write, scribble, and underline like one gone mad.

Give me a whole day: ten or twelve pristine and unblemished hours and I can write. . . .nothing.  Not.  One.  Bloody.  Word.  No coherent thoughts, useable imagery or discernable feelings.  Nothing except the overwhelming urge to do anything but write!  I stare at the huge expanse of white paper and have a sudden urge to cook.  Or call up a friend.  Or go for a walk.  Or sleep.  Argh!  Why is that? 

A good writer needs not only raw talent, but plenty of self-discipline.  And good writing habits.  The number one of which is writing every day.  Hence my joining the Blogathon.  And yet here I am, three blank days haunting me!  And that only partly due to the imbibing of good alcohol over the weekend  ~ Saturday was the Kentucky Derby.

Friday I had two great ideas to blog about; Saturday the same.  But two late nights in a row went by with nary a word dripped upon the page.  When Sunday rolled around, I had lost all four ideas.  Mourn.  Weep. Gnashing of teeth.

Lucky for me, I had been doing my Morning Pages for enough time that I had the threads of other thoughts, lines of poetry, and snippets of ideas for other posts just waiting to be woven into a completely new idea.

So write every day, whether you post or not.  It may save writing face in the near future!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Word Count Blogathon Day 5: Once Upon a Time. . .Where Stories Come From

Writing is a kind of double living.  The writer experiences everything twice. 

Once in reality and once in that mirror which waits always before or behind. 

~ Catherine Drinker Bowen

“This must a pleasant commute home for you tonight!”** 

The woman’s smile was rueful yet cheerful, her elongated “As” making me think of Michigan or Wisconsin.  “Where are y’all from,” I asked.  A small Wisconsin town [bingo!], population 1,800. 

Or was it 18,000?

I don’t remember.  Nor do I remember the name of the town.  We only struck up a conversation as I got off with their group of about eighty excited kids and cheerful adults at the same metro stop.  Too late to find out any really interesting details ~ why they were in D.C., was it their first trip, which school were they from, whether any of them were dairy farmers, etc.

Which is a shame.  Because that is one way stories are born.  By keeping ones eyes and ears open, observing the people, events, and landscape right in front of us.  Colourful regional expressions: y’all, yous guys, ya dair. Facial expressions: usually the metro ride consists of worn, exhausted, bored, and full out asleep.  Snippets of conversation ~ like I had with the Wisconsinites ~ that can be used as dialogue.  Or problems and issues discussed that can be worked into a story or poem. 

All writers use “prompts” ~ devices to get the grey cells brewing and the ink flowing.  But some of the best prompts are all around us.  We just have to stay awake long enough to pick them up.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

**My commute actually was pleasant for once. Their group was better behaved than most of the adult commuters I usually ride with!

Word Count Blogathon Day 4: Five Favorite Books

Except a living man there is nothing more wonderful than a book!  A message to us from the dead, - from human souls whom we never saw, who lived perhaps thousands of miles away; and yet these, on those little sheets of paper, speak to us, teach us, comfort us, open their hearts to us as brothers. 

~ Charles Kingsley

I love having lines ~ so I can colour outside them.  Today’s suggested Blogathon Theme: The Five Favorite Books on Writing.  A wonderful idea, except that I do not have five favorite books on writing.  I do not think I even have five books on writing at all!  I read a lot of writer-ly blogs and have taken a couple of creative writing courses.  And I do own a couple of books on the craft of writing.

But mostly I just read.

And great readers become good authors.  [Or so I’m told.]

It was a difficult choice, but here is a list of my Five Favorite Books of All Time in no particular order:

Brideshead Revisited [Evelyn Waugh] – A modern classic about faith, friendship and wine that “is heaven with strawberries.”  When I was an undergrad, about four or five of us would sit around in the evening after class, drinking tea and reading everything from England’s Literary Golden Years – both 18^th and 20^th century.  Oh to have that much free time to read again!  [By the way, Jeremy Irons is Charles Ryder and Anthony Andrews is Sebastian Flyte.  Any other movie version is dross next to their exquisitely acted piece.]

Pride and Prejudice [Jane Austen] – Do I really need to say anything here?  I wish more men would read Austen.  Her works are classic literature, written with style, grace and razor-edged wit.

Lord of the Rings [J.R.R. Tolkein] – The man created his own language. What more can I say?  It is an incredible work, which I read as a child and had no problem understanding or “getting into.”  I have encountered more than a couple of people who “didn’t get it” or thought it was boring.  Poor things.  I do not think they have any imagination at all!

Anne of Green Gables Series [L.M. Montgomery] – I was Anne, although my hair is  brown with auburn highlights.  During my junior high days, those books were a balm and an escape like no other books.  I have not re-read them in awhile ~ maybe it’s time to dust them off!

Room with a View [E.M. Forester] – I confess, I did not read the book until after I had seen the movie.  But I love them both!  And reading about Lucy Honeychurch’s adventures in Italy led me to read Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes [that movie was nothing like that book!] and dream of owning and renovating my own villa someday.  And that is part of what reading is for ~ to dream even bigger than we thought possible. 

Who knows, maybe those dreams will turn into words, and words into actions, and actions into habits and habits into our destiny.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

What are your five favorite books of all time and why do you love them? Have they inspired you to dream big and follow your destiny?  Email me or drop a note in the comm box!

Word Count Blogathon Day 3: Morning Pages

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. 

~ Anaïs Nin

I am not a morning person.  So the idea of Morning Pages: getting up in the morning and filling up three pages with the first things that come to mind in long-hand is daunting.  Not that I mind writing long-hand ~ I have over fifteen pen pals that I write long-hand letters to and most of my blog posts begin in long-hand.

But filling up three pages?!  In the morning?!

I have tried it once.  It was a freeing experience.  But then I forgot about it, didn’t feel well, needed to meet a work deadline, blah, blah, blah.    So I plan to write them tomorrow  morning.  Every writing blog I follow that mentions Morning Pages swears by them: for emptying the mind, getting into the flow of writing [especially writing every day] and for putting on paper all those ideas for characters, poetry, articles, etc. that have been floating around in your head.

Wish me luck!

Oremuc pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Word Count Blogathon Day 2: Fighting Fear

I don't do the good things I want to do. I keep on doing the evil things I don't want to do. 
~ St. Paul, Romans 7:19

In this case, the good I want to do and do not do is write.  The evil thing I do not want to do but do anyway is procrastinate.  And yet, if I do not write, I suffer.  All those words, lines of poetry, lyrical sentences, article topics ~ they frolic around in my head, kick up a ruckus and clamour to get out and make a good night's rest practically impossible until I do so!

Writing is as natural as breathing to me. Why then do I continue to suffocate myself?

Fear.

Fear of being imperfect.

Fear of being rejected.

Fear of being misunderstood.

Fear of being ignored.

As I have mentioned before, fear of being imperfect is a lie that blocks the real from taking root and blossoming.  How can we hope to become better writers, singers, painters, chefs, architects, etc., unless we write, sing, paint, cook, draw, etc.? 

We are such strange creatures.  We would rather stay in a wretched spot that is familiar then move to a Paradise we do not know.  An almost insane desire to stay in our comfort zone.  Don't get me wrong.  I understand change is difficult.  But that is why we have each other ~ for support, for encouragement, and for the unconditional acceptance.  Not just for the changes we are making, but for who we are right now.  And therein lies the secret. 

First I must accept who I am right now ~ a talented but procrastinating writer. And second, I must let go of fear.  It has been a familiar companion, but it is time we parted ways.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

Are you still holding on to fear?  In what ways have you overcome your fears?  I love hearing from you!

May 2011 Blogathon!

A word is not the same with one writer as with another.  One tears it from his guts.  The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket. 

~ Charles Peguy

It is official!  I have joined Word Count's Blogathon for May!  30 days, 30 posts. Whew!  Two reasons I joined up:

1. To develop the habit of writing every day.

2. To become a better writer.

And of course, here I am getting it in at the last minute.  But it counts and we begin with small steps!

Write on!

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

The End of One Journey. . .

Trouble is a part of your life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you a chance to love you enough.
~ Dinah Shore

Christ is Risen!  Alleluia!  He is truly risen!  Alleluia!

Well, dear readers, I did it.  I made it through forty [almost] days of macrobiotic eating.  In the home stretch I fell off the wagon.  Make that I fell off, got my foot caught in the reins and was dragged kicking and screaming into the Easter Triduum.  But I made it!  And I have to say, I've grown quite fond of brown rice and I shall continue to eat as macro as much as I can [with an occasional loaf of rosemary olive oil bread thrown in here and there] as well as avoiding eating out [the other thing I gave up] unless out with friends.

So why haven't you heard from me in over a month?

No one treads more lightly in revealing personal items then a writer or a lyricist.  Sometimes it helps to connect with the reader/listener.  Other times it gets in the way of the message.  In this instance, est quid est.

My father, God bless him, is eighty-seven.  Once the strongest man in the world, he inches across the floor with a cane.  More than once, his legs have just given up and he winds up bruised.  My mother is much younger than he is and does her best to take care of him and hold down a full time job.  I spend as many weekends with them as I can, but each time I leave, I wonder if it will be last time I see him.

Every phone call from home stops my heart.  Every unanswered ring fills me with agony.  I am consumed with Death, yet am a coward when it comes to talking about the practical matters that must be settled before the inevitable happens.

They say worrying doesn't add one year to your life; in truth, I think it subtracts them.  It certainly takes over conscious and unconscious thought and that does not always leave room for coming up with upbeat and artsy topics or essays. However, since writing is therapeutic for me, I will try to weave the two together, especially since May is Blog-Every-Day Month.

In the meantime, I hope you will understand if sometimes there is radio silence.  Some suffering just can't be expressed in black and white.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

P.S. Prayers for my family are always appreciated!

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 17

Strength is the capacity to break a chocolate bar into four pieces with your bare hands - and then eat just one of the pieces. 

~ Judith Viorst
Well, dear readers, I have no strength.  When faced with the daunting task of walking away from a jar of chocolate-covered salted caramels, I walked away ~ with three caramels.  What can I say?  The spirit is willing to eat rice, but the flesh is used to wearing chocolate.* 

The last couple of days have not been uber great days, macro wise.  Although I must say that after dinner last night, I found myself craving more brown rice.  What is more likely is that I was dehydrated from the salted caramels.  So I promptly ate some pita chips and drank a 1/2 liter of water.

Macrobiotics ~ at least the way Jessica Porter puts it ~ is a forgiving way of eating.  And I have to learn to forgive myself and see food in a different light.  Food is not an evil enemy that blocks me from fitting into that sexy little black dress.  Trans fats, refined sugar, white flour ~ they are not sitting on the shelf with long fangs, laughing maniacally at me, or running after me in the grocery store and jumping into my shopping basket.  Saying no is a viable option.  And if sometimes I fall off the grocery cart, I can get back up and head straight to the produce section and the bulk whole grains section and re-center my body. 

This isn't about eating perfectly.  It's about eating harmoniously and in balance ~ with what the body actually needs [not what the psyche ~ like a spoiled five year old brat ~ wants] and with what is in season.

How relaxing and forgiving is that?!

Today I am heading out of town and into the country for some much needed R&R and time with my parents, who as you know are getting older and less able to manage things.  One of the great things about being back at the homestead is that there is no internet and my cell phone gets a sporadic signal.  It is very peaceful to unplug, unwind and just enjoy being.  If I were more organized, I would have written up some posts for you to enjoy while I am away, but I am still working on writing every day period!

May your weekend be filled with harmony, peace, mounds of brown rice and the strength to get back to center.

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

*Well, where else do you think all that yummy fat goes!? ;)

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 14

Eating rice cakes is like chewing on a foam coffee cup, only less filling.

~ Dave Barry

Did I really say I would turn macro for 40 days?!?  What was I thinking!?  I need to be locked up ~ preferably in a kitchen stocked with more than brown rice, leafy greens and colourful, cruciferous veggies.  Argh!!

What!?  Did you think that the life of newbie macro was as easy as pie?  [Oh no, do not think of pie!  Especially crust made with lard and white flour ~ Gah!]  Deep breathes.  Why are we doing this, Mikaela?  To strip away our addictions [caffeine, sugar, white flour].  To obtain balanced energy.  To re-center our energy and bring our focus back on the essentials of life: faith, creativity, relationships.

I am not doing a pure brown rice fast ~ that would be madness when I have a full social schedule.  But the past two days I’ve eaten nothing but brown rice with leftover pesto and some brown rice bread with honey.  Woo!  Time for some more greens, mushrooms and onions to go with it!

And some extra sleep ~ I am still trying to get back my lost “spring” hour!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 12

When baking, follow directions.

When cooking, go by your own taste.

~ Laiko Bahrs

Saturday presented an interesting challenge to my new macro cooking.  I hosted a dinner for about ten friends and since it was St. Joseph's feast day ~ a solemn feast day ~ there was an abundance of good Virginia wine, rich food and gourmet ice cream for dessert.  One of the great foundations of macrobiotics is balance and moderation, so I used that as an excuse to treat my guests [and myself, hee!] to scallops  sauteed in butter and garlic and served on beds of fresh made spinach and basil pesto, chicken breasts stuffed with crabmeat, green onions and garlic and baked in white wine and butter, creamy mash potatoes and steamed asparagus.

There was not a speck of brown rice to be found on the table and that made me sad actually.  I missed its nutty, chewy comfort.  I did partake of the chicken and scallops, but kept to my fast from the potatoes [which in addition to being a deadly nightshade, also had heavy cream] and of course, the ice cream.  When I first gave up dairy, it was a real sacrifice.  But now that I am healthier without it, I only get a twinge of dairy-envy once in a blue moon.  Goat cheese ice cream with cognac figs is one of those times when I curse the gods of lactose intolerance.  Sigh.

This morning I sauteed some mushrooms, garlic, leftover asparagus and onion and added some brown rice.  It was good to be back to center.

Now off to get a good night's sleep!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 9

The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent, not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious.
~ Tom Robbins

Tonight's macro dinner brought to you by the lowly beet.  Actually, tonight's dinner was three shades of  purple now that I think about it.  Purple cabbage, red onion [which is really purple], and beets [which are red, I know, but purple-y red].  I mixed in spinach, garlic, the ever present yellow curry, and a couple pinches of salt.  The result was a lush, earthy mix that was also quite heavenly. 

Last night I soaked about 4 cups of black beans.  The ebony lovelies cooked up well in vegetable broth and spring water and a few cloves of garlic.  Once they were tender, I added them to a pan of brown rice ~ which I had cooked last night, and lightly stir-fried them.  With the purple veggie mix on top, it was just what the macro doctor ordered ~ and I didn't miss the meat this time.  Yay me!

I felt so great I hopped on the treadmill for a bit.  I have not developed the runner's high yet, so when I work out, I still get pleasantly stretched and sleepy.  Which is good, because I'm still adjusting to "springing forward!"

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

An Abbey Poetry Party

The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought,

this in turn makes us think more deeply about life,

which helps us regain our equilibrium. 

~ Norbet Platt

It's a poetry party and you're inivited!  Christine Valters Painter at Abbey of the Arts is hosting a poetry party and you're invited!  I just discovered Christine's beautiful and peaceful blog.  It is like a virtual meditation garden!  Thank you for hosting, Christine!

My contribution to the party:

Green blades, tiny

Strong from the struggle,

the primal desire

to catch the caress of the sun

if only for a few hours,

finally push their way through earth’s jealous heart.

© March 2011 Mikaela D’Eigh

Happy [almost] spring writing!

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 8

What most moved him was a certain meal on beans.

~  Robert Browning

I have been seduced by the bean. 

Sitting at my desk with my lunch of last night’s brown rice, catfish and other various bits of macro edibles, I wondered why the passion was gone after only eight days.  I have no intention of leaving brown rice ~ I am fully committed to this relationship.  But for some reason, the catfish creation thang ain’t got that swing ~ at least not today.



photo from Indra at http://www.scribblingpad.com/

And then it struck me like a kitchen cabinet door left open.  No beans in this dish.  When I made dinner on Monday night, it was sublime.  There was no hesitation, no dutiful must-eat-to-stay-alive grimace ~ you dove right in for seconds.  And the only difference is that little dish had kidney beans and this little dish has none. Waah! So tonight’s dinner will have to include beans, most definitely.

And my CSA box is being delivered tonight ~ a fresh box of culinary possibilities.  Fresh squeezed orange and grapefruit juice for breakfast tomorrow ~ hurrah!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 7

The trick is making memory a blessing,
To learn by loss the cool subtraction of desire,
Of wanting nothing more than what has been,
To know the past forever lost, yet seeing
Behind the wall a garden still in blossom.
~ Dana Gioia

Maybe it is the amount of brown rice I have been eating the past seven days. Or perhaps it is the act of writing about eating brown rice for the past seven days. Whichever it is, my writerly Muse is on a roll.  Today I followed some tips from my virtual mentors over at Write to Done and re-worked a poem I wrote a few weeks ago. 

My first exercise was to highlight all the nouns and verbs in any poem and replace them with synonyms.  I chose Dana Gioia's The Lost Garden because it is a favorite of mine.  It was a strange but interesting exercise.  It made me more aware of word choice and how important an extensive vocabulary is to a writer.  Then Sullivan suggested I change something in each line that shifted the focus of the poem.  By the time I was finished, I had a very cool poem about loss and decay [what can I say, I am a melancholic at heart] and also had several original lines and word couplings that I saved for future creative use.

So, thank you, faithful readers for embracing my Muse.  And thank you, brown rice, for waking her up!

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

P.S. Dinner was...dun du da...brown rice with catfish, kale, garlic, green onions and purple cabbage. Mmm!

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 6

Writing is a struggle against silence. 
~ Carlos Fuentes
Last month I confessed my obsession with the perfect phrase.  I resolved to write more, even if the end product was not as "perfect" as I thought it could be.  But like most sinners ~ or wayward writers ~ my good intentions dissolved and I fell into the two cardinal sins of writers: procrastination and laziness.

The only way to get over a bad habit [not writing enough] one must practice the opposite good habit [writing more] for at least thirty days.   For me, this means writing every day.  So six days ago, I embarked on a Lenten journey of eating only whole grains and vegetables and resolved to blog about my culinary adventure.  By doing so, I take my confession a step further.  Not so much by doing penance as making amends for all the posts, poetry, prose and lyrics that never saw the light of the computer monitor because they were not profound or perfect enough. 

My macrobiotic venture is about more than food or healthy living.  It is about being accountable: to both myself as a writer and to you, my readers. And being the lazy, procrastinating writer that I am means I need a good excuse to do that.  Hence, for the next forty days I have a built-in excuse. 

Perfect.

Except…..what in the world do I write about today?  I am not cooking tonight because I was so good and did most of my cooking yesterday.  Panic ensues.  Fingers freeze, waiting for brilliance to drip from my pen.  And only....silence.

Don’t get me wrong.  Silence can be healing.  A chance to grow closer to God [or whatever name you give to the Infinite Other or Higher Power].  An opportunity to dig deeper into why we do the things we do or react the way we do.  But the point of silence is growth outward. 

And then I remembered: another point of silence is patience.  Sometimes the fruit needs to stay on the vine a little longer for the wine to be sweeter.  In my case, I just needed to mull things over on the commute home and stand in my kitchen for a nano-second for the rest of this post to pop in my frying pan ~ literally.  Yes, I was good yesterday ~ I cooked enough for myself for the next three days. 

But I was going to my book group tonight and as everyone knows, you cannot read a book with a group of your girlfriends without having food be a part of the mix!  But now that I am macro, how was this going to work?  They were used to me bringing fried chicken and chocolate!  Even I have to admit that next to that, brown rice sounds as exciting as a trip to gastroenterologist. [Which you will have to do a lot of if you do NOT eat enough brown rice, by the way.]

In the end, I made a brown rice, kidney bean, garlic and onion dish with a dash of Cajun spices and yellow curry and let the dish speak for itself.  They oohed and ahhed over it and even my friend who is a picky eater went back for thirds.  They may grow tired of hearing about the macro way of eating, but they won't get tired of eating my macro creations!  Ahhh ~ it is good to know I have not lost my culinary "wow" factor.

Or the ability to make the ink dance across a page.

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 5

Cooking is an art, but you eat it too.
~ Marcella Hazan

Yesterday I was a busy macro chick:  buying medium grain brown rice, kasha, aduki beans, and black beans, along with kale, cabbage, fennel, onions and fresh fruit.  Mmmm!  I was also a little naughty: six bottles of wine from Best Cellars.  What?!  It goes well with whole grains! 

Sullivan also come by and we spent the afternoon writing, then it was off to a music jam party.  Music and writing ~ my two passions.  [Along with cooking of course.] It felt good to be using both talents again.  Hence, no post yesterday. 

Today's task was to make good macro food for the week.  First, I made a huge pot of brown rice.  Then I sauteed some fresh kale with garlic, green onions, purple cabbage, pepper, a dash of curry [one of my favorite spices ~ have I mentioned that?] and a little sea salt.  I also fried up some catfish [minus the breading] with fresh squeezed lemon and lime juice. 

In another pan, I browned chopped andouille chicken sausage for a special treat and mixed in some more kale, garlic and the now cooked brown rice.  Don't knock until you try it.  So mission sort of accomplished: enough for three lunches and one dinner.  Wednesday, my CSA box from Washington Green Grocer arrives, so there will be time to make more lunches and dinners fresh from the farm.  Yay!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 3

I am nice.  I am. . . .rice.
~ Jessica Porter

Day 3 was not nearly as exciting as Days 1 and 2.  My rice and peppers lunch stared back at me soullessly.  I stared back, daring it to make my culinary heart go pitter-pat.  It did not.  Thankfully, I had just juiced some fresh oranges, grapefruit, and apples.  Ahhh! Bliss returns! And the organic sugar scrub I made from the pulp?!  Let's just say I had a great shower and leave it at that!

For dinner I added black beans to the mix and made a Cuban-style black beans and rice dish.  Much more exciting than lunch!  I think I failed to put enough spice in before.  I am not quite rice yet.  But then I am still struggling to figure out my place on this journey to more whole foods.  One change I have noticed already: I have not been tempted to eat out of mere boredom.  This is due in part to it being Lent, but also I am more conscious of what goes into my body.  I also felt more in tune with my surroundings today.  Cool.

* * * * *

Ugh.  I just found out that peppers are considered a deadly nightshade, along with . . . . potatoes?!?!  NOOOOOOO!!!!  What the heck?!  Must read more about this.  More later!

Oremus pro invicem,
~ Mikaela

Prayers for the Victims of the Pacific Earthquake and Tsunami

Just wanted to add my words of support and comfort to all the victims of the tsunami in Japan and surrounding countries.

Our prayers are with you.
~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Day 2

The greatest delight the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable.  I am not alone and unacknowledged.  They nod to me and I to them. 
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I confess....to eating....white rice.  [Gah!]  But at least it wasn't pasta or ~ mortal sin ~ white bread!

Honestly, I was so sure I had another bag of yummy brown rice in my cupboard.  On the bus ride home, I thought it of sitting there, eagerly awaiting my culinary ministrations.  My body grew excited thinking about the wholesome grain-ness of it and my brain sighed a grand sigh for the energy and pleasure to come.  And then to come home and NO BROWN RICE to be found!  Oh!  The ever lovin' tragedy of it all!

My one saving grace was that I did have some white jasmine rice ~ evidence of my wild and crazy white-flour-energy-crashing-sapping days.  My culinary culpability was lessened when I chopped up some fresh mini sweet peppers, a yellow onion, 3 cloves of garlic and some fresh spinach and sauteed it in olive oil. [It's still winter....ish.  So oil is okay.]  Once the rice was cooked, I put some in with the now sauteed veggies and stirred it all together, added some yellow curry and voila! 

When I tell you this concoction was outrageously awesome, I know you won't believe me.  But you can ask my housemate.  She was in the kitchen juicing some green peppers, tomatoes, celery, and carrots ~ nectar of the gods! ~ and kept looking into the dining room and laughing at my moans of foodie rapture.  She finally asked to try some and could only say: "Oh wow.  That is some good stuff!"  I also had some chicken [free range of course] because it needed to be cooked, and a few spoons of lentils ~ also with a healthy sprinkling of curry and some sea salt. 

I cannot wait until tomorrow when I can have left over rice and rainbow pepper goodness.  And never fear, for my penance, a brisk walk to the grocery store for a huge bag of brown rice is in order so I can be a good little macrobiotic chick. 

Seriously.  You need to try some!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela

40 Days of Macrobiotics: Intro and Day One

Cooking is like love, it should be entered into with abandon or not at all.

~ Harriet van Horne

Well, that is how I am approaching my Lenten fast this year anyway.  A friend of mine lent [ha ha] a book on the macrobiotic way of eating.  A foodie with a gluten and dairy sensitivity is a sad foodie indeed, but I have to say I have learned to cope, and without feeling too deprived.  Indeed, I have discovered that there are many ways to make chicken, chili and even ice cream without leaning on the crutches of gluten and milk products.  [Although I have yet to tackle the goddess of all dairy-filled desserts: crème brulee.  I feel sure Brillat-Savarin would roll over in his grave if I did!]

But living on brown rice and vegetables for the next 40 days?  Mikaela, you must be crazy.  I know, dear reader.  However, I decided I had nothing to lose by trying this new way of seeing and eating my food.  Anyway, Jessica Porter's The Hip Chick’s Guide to Macrobiotics makes it seem like a real hoot.  [When one isn’t craving naughty things like crème brulee and pretty much anything else that’s tasty.]

Actually, scratch that last comment.  I love brown rice.  It has a nutty flavor and crunch that blah white rice lacks.  Not to mention that it’s more natural.  White rice is brown rice, by the way ~ but with everything exciting about it stripped away.

So for the next 40 days or so [heavy emphasis on the “or so” given my procrastination and abandonment track record here], I will let you know how my efforts to become a macrobiotic foodie turn out.  So check back often. [Or every so often...]

* * * * *

Day One – Ash Wednesday: Difficult today since really can’t eat much of anything.  This is more due to the fact that I did not plan well the night before and consequently only had a banana to eat for lunch at work [I gave up going out to eat too ~ restaurants are not known for serving brown rice dishes and organic veggies!  Except maybe Founding Farmers, but I digress…]

For dinner however, I bounced back with brown gaba rice, beautiful, fresh organic kale [thank you Washington Green Grocer!] and a couple of potatoes [I know! Sin!] in olive oil.  Not sure about that last.  Have to read Jessica more to see where she stands on olive oil.  Woo hoo!  Down 1, 40 more to go!

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela