Redneck

Last night for Barnaby’s Birthday Dinner we sat down to a table of fresh fish caught by his brother, fresh arugula from his mother’s garden and the wonderful pie made from the neighbor’s rhubarb.

Barnaby wanted his birthday meal to be as homegrown as possible --- made from the efforts at the FryFarm in Michigan and the family cabin on Gull Lake in Minnesota.

I could not believe that I had anything to do with the tasty salad we were eating. Barnaby’s mother reassured me that this was the very same arugula we planted a few weeks ago.

When I was working in the garden, with the sun on my neck, I began contemplating the term redneck. Redneck was a word I used to describe a person from the country, like a hick. It was intended as a put-down to describe someone who I thought didn’t know anything.

But time has a way of changing perceptions. After living in California for the last 9 years I have grown to appreciate local and slow food. California also gave me the chance to work with farm laborers and their families and introduced me to a new State Holiday.

Now I find the term redneck endearing. A word of high praise for all who are involved in our food production. To me, redneck now conveys a sense of self-sufficiency a la Emerson and Thoreau.

Apparently my “new view” is part of a growing trend (as reported in the book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle). But when I sit in the hot-tub at the Chelsea Wellness Center and listen to the women talk, this is the way they have been eating all along --- meats from their own animals, vegetables from their gardens, canning their produce for the winter, etc. They don’t buy much from the store and they don’t need a book to teach them about it since it is something they already know. And I thought they didn't know anything.

The Pies that Bind Us

I first discovered the sanctity of pie after I moved to Traverse City, Michigan in 1994 and began doing work in the UP. (That’s the Upper Peninsula for those of you who don’t know Michigan.) I loved the ritual of afternoon pie and coffee. Time to slow down, take a break, be with others and reflect on the day. A well needed pause.

Pie is fairly popular lately with TV shows like Pushing Daisies and movies like Waitress. I expect the resurgence of interest in pie is a longing for the “old days” when people had time to bake and sit around and talk over a piece of pie. In our neighborhood in Oakland, California, a bakery moved in and was selling fresh pies for $25 each. It is so popular they are opening a second location.

For my husband’s family, pie is sacred. I have heard the stories about his uncle who knows every piece of good pie between Kearney, Nebraska and Vail, Colorado. This is more than just knowing the pie stops, he has taste-tested every place. I have witnessed Barnaby’s mother running out to the garden and then surprising us minutes later with fresh rhubarb pie. The power of pie has been known to get this family into the car instantly upon mention of the word. Pie breaks gender barriers as the men and women of this family are equally good at making and eating pie.

Last night, after our 14½ hour drive from Michigan to Minnesota, we were greeted with dinner and two kinds of pie --- an apple and a banana cream, both of which were made by Barnaby’s uncle. Tonight Barnaby’s mom and I make a lemon meringue together. And tomorrow we will be having another kind of pie for Barnaby’s birthday. See pie charts attached below for pies of years past. I told you, this family takes pie seriously.

So what’s the point? When I was walking this morning, it occurred to me that pie covers the 5 Languages of Love:

• Words of affirmation: Thank you for the pie, I love it! It is so good. You are wonderful. ☺
• Quality time: Time spent making the pie together; or enjoying the pie together; or talking and sharing while one person is making the pie (or calling your mother for the recipe!)
• Receiving Gifts: The gift of a freshly baked pie. Need I say more?
• Acts of Service: Making someone you love a pie. Taking the time and the thought to make someone a pie goes a long way.
• Physical Touch: Making a pie together, hugging and kissing your child or your sweetie as you make a pie and share the spatula. The hug you receive when you give the gift of pie to a friend or neighbor.

Pie transcends all bounds. Pie is finding sacred in the every day. Pie is enjoying the fruits of Mother Nature. Pie is…

Blanket

Today is the first day I have used a blanket to help me sit for meditation. Now that I have tried it, I don’t know why I didn’t do it before. What’s the big deal?

I remember in yoga classes the instructor would talk about using a blanket to help people prop themselves up. It was usually said as “some people may need this.” Some students needed blocks, others needed belts, and then there were those who needed blankets.

It wasn’t until last week when I was in a yoga class at the Chelsea Wellness Center (great place by the way), that the instructor was one of the “some people” who needed a blanket to sit up straight. I liked this. It made me feel better. Then I forgot all about it until this morning when I was searching for a place to do my meditation. The sliding door was open. It was raining outside and the birds were active. The raindrops on the deck and outdoor furniture sounded so beautiful, I wanted to sit by the door so I could hear everything better. I looked for something to sit on and then I saw the blanket. This blue blanket has been resting on the edge of the couch the entire time we have been house sitting. I wasn’t even sure why it was there since it doesn’t really match anything in the living room. But there it was. Calling to me. I picked it up and sat down. It was perfect. My spine was straight and my ears were tingling with all the wonderful sounds around me.

I admit that my meditation posture has been rather lazy in the past. Certainly less than ideal and in fact, I have sat in ways that many instructors would tell students not to sit. But today it was textbook.

I laugh at myself for taking so long to admit that I need a blanket. I give myself credit for not "beating myself up" about the less than perfect posture in the past. I smile and give thanks that the blanket was there all the time.

Up and Out

A few months ago Barnaby and I decided to start each day by identifying an intention and then sharing it with each other. It has been a fun practice and it is amazing to see how once we set our intentions, we get many opportunities to apply them throughout the day.

Usually, when I think of my intention, a word jumps out at me. Sometimes I get a picture in my mind, but generally it is a word or phrase. This morning when I asked what my intention is for today, I got an image of me standing with my arms up and out. What did this mean? Like to transmit? Or emit? I thought about it for awhile and I couldn’t find a word for the image I saw. Eventually I chose to let it be and move on with my day.

A little while later I sat down to clear my head. I made some tea and sat in a lovely chair in the elegant living room of the place where we are house sitting. Looking over a beautifully shaped sofa, I look out into the trees beyond. I sit. I set myself for Oneness and to use beginner’s mind. I keep my eyes open. Many thoughts. I continue to sit. Finally my eyes wander to inside the room. To the glass table right in front of me. To the simple bowl on the table. I recognize its shape.

There it is. Barely a bowl. More like a plate with gentle arms lifting up and out. Up and Out. Offering itself to be used, to be of service. Available to receive what is placed in it. I am grateful for the clarity. As always the timing is good. I will be working with clients later today. And even though I have no idea what they will bring me, I know what my job is.