May 23, 2011
Driving through town today, I glimpse a tan car with a bike rack on the back and a tall, slightly bewildered guy with long hair loading fuel beside it.
For a moment, I am paralyzed, shock and fear creeping over my skin like a shadow. For a moment, I am lost on a vast wave of an unnamed emotion...unable to tell direction, unable to recognize myself.
Flashing back to reality, I realize his hair is blond and wavy.
Different guy.
And hesitantly, not trusting my own eyes, I breathe again.
Then a feeling of sorrow surfaces, the memory of a strong love inside me. I gave everything I had and this is where it led. Emptiness.
I feel a twinge in my heart of longing for acceptance. Then, somehow my thoughts shift further back in time, to a memory of another love, far deeper than that one, which somehow lives on, inside me.
This love is more innocent, with the purity of untouched youth and the integrity of inexperience.
I pull up to the post office to retrieve my mail for the first time since coming back home. The first person I see before me is my one remaining link to the actual person, (now mythic in my mind), who was the reciprocal of all that early love.
"I think he's supposed to get back today", she says casually, as we say a quick hello and then goodbye.
(He is real?)
He is real.
Instead of terror, this news gives me comfort. He belongs here. Just as I belong here.
I am glad he continues to love and return to this place.
And again, all these years later, I am swept away by the remembrance of that love that was grounded in the earth-but was so full of fire that it consumed us-till we finally tried to put it out.
Yet it undeniably lives on inside of me, like a constant flame that I warm myself by from time to time.
I don't know the person any more,
but I still love the spirit, no question.
And I can feel its mutuality. I, in turn, can feel that I am still loved.
It has that quality of forgiveness
regardless of circumstance.
And puzzling as it is, with odd pulls to the heart at unexpected moments, it's both unsettling and comforting to realize that it's still there, unchanged by time.
Next, I go to the market and buy a newspaper with my picture in it.
I stare at the picture, wondering how it might look through his eyes, after all this time between us...
Who is that girl?
In the black and white photo, I am in the background. There is a shadow over my face, yet somehow my teeth still look crooked. My body looks slim and my arms look strong, but my face...somehow it seems odd and ugly.
I guess that's how I still feel about myself.
Staring at the darkly shaded picture of my face, my life seems strange and obscure. I look like a grown-up. Who have I become?
I look so inconsequential, so average, so nonthreatening.
Has anything about me changed?
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Shattered Pieces
May 18, 2011
It seems parts of me
have gone missing again.
Every time I turn around
I divide into fragments
and some of them escape.
How is it that these dreams I had
are now only broken pieces shattered
like ancient pottery
in the tracks of dust
I've left behind?
Such beautiful dreams they were
of so much brilliant potential
overflowing
with love
success...
But now, cold shadows
and broken clay
and
even
this poem
sucks!
It seems parts of me
have gone missing again.
Every time I turn around
I divide into fragments
and some of them escape.
How is it that these dreams I had
are now only broken pieces shattered
like ancient pottery
in the tracks of dust
I've left behind?
Such beautiful dreams they were
of so much brilliant potential
overflowing
with love
success...
But now, cold shadows
and broken clay
and
even
this poem
sucks!
From the Heart
I realize it's been awhile since I've posted, but that doesn't mean I haven't been learning, processing and writing. Sometimes the art of bearing your soul can be intimidating...and takes a little time passage to warm up to again, when at last you realize how much you long for the humility and intimacy of self-effacing honesty more than the comfort of being safe inside your shell. I have some catching up to do on experiences, memoirs and moments with dance, travel and cuisine. So, I will try to share with you the recent or semi-recent ones that I feel will be most insightful and meaningful. Here it is, from the heart...
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Waves
About a month or so ago, I wrote 2 new poems. Here is one:
Sometimes I dream
that I am a landscape
an earthy shore
pummeled by the waves
of a vast
and mysterious ocean.
Waves of sadness
waves of joy
waves of fear
waves of laughter
waves of confusion
indecision
waves of knowing
wisdom
Crashing up against me
when I least expect it.
But maybe
I am the ocean.
Washing up against the shores
of another
only to find
my own waters
darkened
with envy
desire
outrage.
All my life
I’ve made waves.
Sometimes intentionally
but mostly
unknowingly.
Stirring up the anger
the untold stories
and denial
of others
more fearful
Than I.
Maybe I am the landscape
and the ocean.
My body and experience
Comprised of all the elements:
Earth, air, fire and water.
Maybe every part of me
every particle
is a wave
in one form or another
changing
impermanent
unsatisfied.
Perfect in its
refusal
to be still.
-Cara Cruickshank
And here is the other (which was written with a friend)...
She is not a ghost.
Because I know her
and I am not a ghost.
At least, I don't think so
though sometimes
in lonely evenings
I wonder.
Every day she wanders
quietly through
the parking lot.
Once in awhile
she tiptoes
into a nearby field
and secretly
lies down
in the brown grass
not seeing
that another ghost
is watching
from across the pavement.
She is almost transparent
her pale skin
and dull maroon coat
fading in and out
of the bleak landscape.
She searches
for a bit of color
a sign of life
in the deadness
all around her.
Is she a ghost?
I keep wondering
in the filmy haze
of the barren parking lot.
Or is she flesh and bone
but mostly shadow
like me?
Her soul has gone missing.
Maybe that is what she searches for
in these moments
in the dimming horizon
and the dried grass.
Maybe it was stolen
in the suffocating embrace
of a possessive lover.
Maybe it ran away
from the insatiable criticism
of a doting mother.
Maybe it fled
the lusting gaze
of a distant uncle
who took something from her
she had never offered.
Like me, her unseen observer,
she has just enough life left
to get herself to work each day.
But later
invisible
in the refuge
of abandoned earth
she searches
for the fragments
of the soul she once had.
I am not a ghost.
Because I know her
and she is not a ghost.
-Susan Cruise and Cara Cruickshank
Sometimes I dream
that I am a landscape
an earthy shore
pummeled by the waves
of a vast
and mysterious ocean.
Waves of sadness
waves of joy
waves of fear
waves of laughter
waves of confusion
indecision
waves of knowing
wisdom
Crashing up against me
when I least expect it.
But maybe
I am the ocean.
Washing up against the shores
of another
only to find
my own waters
darkened
with envy
desire
outrage.
All my life
I’ve made waves.
Sometimes intentionally
but mostly
unknowingly.
Stirring up the anger
the untold stories
and denial
of others
more fearful
Than I.
Maybe I am the landscape
and the ocean.
My body and experience
Comprised of all the elements:
Earth, air, fire and water.
Maybe every part of me
every particle
is a wave
in one form or another
changing
impermanent
unsatisfied.
Perfect in its
refusal
to be still.
-Cara Cruickshank
And here is the other (which was written with a friend)...
She is not a ghost.
Because I know her
and I am not a ghost.
At least, I don't think so
though sometimes
in lonely evenings
I wonder.
Every day she wanders
quietly through
the parking lot.
Once in awhile
she tiptoes
into a nearby field
and secretly
lies down
in the brown grass
not seeing
that another ghost
is watching
from across the pavement.
She is almost transparent
her pale skin
and dull maroon coat
fading in and out
of the bleak landscape.
She searches
for a bit of color
a sign of life
in the deadness
all around her.
Is she a ghost?
I keep wondering
in the filmy haze
of the barren parking lot.
Or is she flesh and bone
but mostly shadow
like me?
Her soul has gone missing.
Maybe that is what she searches for
in these moments
in the dimming horizon
and the dried grass.
Maybe it was stolen
in the suffocating embrace
of a possessive lover.
Maybe it ran away
from the insatiable criticism
of a doting mother.
Maybe it fled
the lusting gaze
of a distant uncle
who took something from her
she had never offered.
Like me, her unseen observer,
she has just enough life left
to get herself to work each day.
But later
invisible
in the refuge
of abandoned earth
she searches
for the fragments
of the soul she once had.
I am not a ghost.
Because I know her
and she is not a ghost.
-Susan Cruise and Cara Cruickshank
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A few days in NYC
I know I have been neglecting this blog quite a bit lately. Well, now I am in Queens, N.Y. visiting friends from Tibet, while also receiving a visit from a friend from Paris. There is nothing like Tibetan hospitality. We arrived in a snowstorm 2 nights ago to a beautiful spread of Hoko...the Tibetan version of Vietnamese Pho.
The past few days have included a stroll along 5th Ave. to see the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and the festive window displays at Sax Fifth Avenue, a visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral (This was my 12 year old Tibetan niece's first time in a church. After looking around a bit, she said matter-of-factly, "I guess Jesus must really be important to these guys." Hahaha...She also really liked trying out the holy water. As she was testing it out with her finger tips, she said, "It would be really cool if they told people this was Jesus's tears." Good times.), a trip to the movies (treated by a Brazilian guy we met in the subway who spent the day sightseeing with us), a night at the Metropolitan Opera (my first...finally! We saw a Puccini Opera about the California Gold Rush...it was bizarre to see Opera singers dress like cowboys and cowgirls and sing to each other in Italian with names like "Nick, Dick, Mr. Johnson and Minnie), and an evening at Carnegie Hall (also my first) to hear the NY Philharmonic Orchestra.
The night we arrived here, NYC received the 6th biggest snowstorm of its history...so we got to witness the madness of the Big Apple covered in piles of snow...cars stuck on every side street, snow banks several feet high along the sidewalks, and millions of New Yorkers out sloshing around in it!
The past few days have included a stroll along 5th Ave. to see the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and the festive window displays at Sax Fifth Avenue, a visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral (This was my 12 year old Tibetan niece's first time in a church. After looking around a bit, she said matter-of-factly, "I guess Jesus must really be important to these guys." Hahaha...She also really liked trying out the holy water. As she was testing it out with her finger tips, she said, "It would be really cool if they told people this was Jesus's tears." Good times.), a trip to the movies (treated by a Brazilian guy we met in the subway who spent the day sightseeing with us), a night at the Metropolitan Opera (my first...finally! We saw a Puccini Opera about the California Gold Rush...it was bizarre to see Opera singers dress like cowboys and cowgirls and sing to each other in Italian with names like "Nick, Dick, Mr. Johnson and Minnie), and an evening at Carnegie Hall (also my first) to hear the NY Philharmonic Orchestra.
The night we arrived here, NYC received the 6th biggest snowstorm of its history...so we got to witness the madness of the Big Apple covered in piles of snow...cars stuck on every side street, snow banks several feet high along the sidewalks, and millions of New Yorkers out sloshing around in it!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Merry Christmas
I am in the Catskill mountains, enjoying the eve of Christmas with snow falling, warmth indoors, and the recent memory of eating home-made cookies and eggnog. Time for some sleep! But first, I want to share my favorite Christmas Poem:
Merry Christmas from the Mountains
From the scented pines in white
From the flame and lemon sunset
From the Yule Log's crackled light
Merry Christmas from the rivers
Running free and swift and clear
Merry Christmas from the meadows
Streaked with silent running deer
Christmas Eve is hushed and holy
With its message time-undimmed
From the vast and candled skies
Come Christmas wishes on the wind:
May the mountains own Great Spirit
make your life a singing stream
May the twelve new moons now coming
Bring a purpose to your dreams
May a rainbow touch your shoulder
With a promise in its glow
May your moccasins leave hints
Of happy tracks in many snows.
-Virgina Covey-Boswell
Merry Christmas from the Mountains
From the scented pines in white
From the flame and lemon sunset
From the Yule Log's crackled light
Merry Christmas from the rivers
Running free and swift and clear
Merry Christmas from the meadows
Streaked with silent running deer
Christmas Eve is hushed and holy
With its message time-undimmed
From the vast and candled skies
Come Christmas wishes on the wind:
May the mountains own Great Spirit
make your life a singing stream
May the twelve new moons now coming
Bring a purpose to your dreams
May a rainbow touch your shoulder
With a promise in its glow
May your moccasins leave hints
Of happy tracks in many snows.
-Virgina Covey-Boswell
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Moroccan Lamb Stew
Last night, by borrowing from various recipes online I created a delicious and easy recipe for Moroccan Lamb Stew. I made a similar recipe for my summer campers last summer, when we had a day of Moroccan culture and I served them a five-course meal under a large, white tent outdoors. We carried blankets, tablecloths and cushions outside and lounged luxuriously as we ate with our fingers. It was delicious in the hot weather, especially if spicy, but I think it makes a very cozy meal in midst of winter...reminiscent of the part of the world where many of our traditional stories originate. Since this is meant to be a blog about food, among other things, I want to share this mouth watering recipe with you:
Ingredients:
Spices:
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
a pinch of cayenne pepper (add more if you like a kick)
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 tsp ground ginger
1 & 1/2 tsp of ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dried mint leaves
1 & 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1 large onion, chopped
4 Tbsp olive oil
2 lbs organic cubed lamb stew meat
1 &1/2 cup organic chicken broth
1 chopped green bell pepper
3 chopped carrots
1 can chickpeas , rinsed and drained
Juice of 1 large orange (or a splash of orange juice)
3/4 cup quartered, dried apricots
1 & 1/2 Tbsp honey
Directions:
In a cast iron pot, sautee the onion in olive oil over med. heat till golden brown. In a separate bowl, combine the spices. Lower heat and add to onions after they are golden brown, stirring constantly. Add lamb meat and brown gently in pan, stirring constantly. Raise heat to med.
Once lamb is browned softly on all sides, add the chicken broth, green pepper and carrots. Bring to boil, then simmer for 45 min.-1 hour with lid half on.
Add chickpeas, orange juice, apricots and honey and simmer for 15 min. more.
Serve with fresh couscous cooked in boiled, diluted orange juice. You can add nuts and dried fruits to your couscous as you like.
Ingredients:
Spices:
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
a pinch of cayenne pepper (add more if you like a kick)
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 tsp ground ginger
1 & 1/2 tsp of ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dried mint leaves
1 & 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1 large onion, chopped
4 Tbsp olive oil
2 lbs organic cubed lamb stew meat
1 &1/2 cup organic chicken broth
1 chopped green bell pepper
3 chopped carrots
1 can chickpeas , rinsed and drained
Juice of 1 large orange (or a splash of orange juice)
3/4 cup quartered, dried apricots
1 & 1/2 Tbsp honey
Directions:
In a cast iron pot, sautee the onion in olive oil over med. heat till golden brown. In a separate bowl, combine the spices. Lower heat and add to onions after they are golden brown, stirring constantly. Add lamb meat and brown gently in pan, stirring constantly. Raise heat to med.
Once lamb is browned softly on all sides, add the chicken broth, green pepper and carrots. Bring to boil, then simmer for 45 min.-1 hour with lid half on.
Add chickpeas, orange juice, apricots and honey and simmer for 15 min. more.
Serve with fresh couscous cooked in boiled, diluted orange juice. You can add nuts and dried fruits to your couscous as you like.
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