Browsing Tag

the seeker

food, Plenty

The Missing Ingredient

November 19, 2012

“I just couldn’t get away from the siren call of the kitchen that is an inherent part of me. The kitchen of which I speak is both literal and metaphoric. It’s the sum of what I’ve learnt so far, and am still learning.” – Sophie Dahl, Miss Dahl’s Voluptuous Delights.

DSC00377

I have a confession to make: I hate cooking. I hate it. It literally makes me itch. Now, like a lot of things in my life, if I was okay with hating cooking, then all would be well, but I don’t want to hate cooking.

The weird thing is that I love the idea of cooking. New cookbooks make me drool. I pre-ordered Sophie Dahl’s new cookbook months ago and lovingly caress the covers of Risotto with Nettles and Plenty every time I am in a bookstore. I open the pages of Heidi’s books and something in my soul feels better – just owning them nourishes me – but I have yet to cook anything from them.

In my dreams I stand rosy cheeked and happy beside a stove while cooking something delectable. Stirring fresh basil into my sauce, I create magic just like Vianne in Chocolat. In reality, my back starts to ache and my teeth grind against one another in barely contained tension. It’s so bad that my husband (who cooks nearly all of our meals) completely avoids the kitchen when I am making dinner.

What is it – the missing ingredient that links desire and reality?

I know that I love beautiful things and that good food can be exquisitely beautiful. I love the whimsy and the theatricality of ingredients and their presentation. I love the alchemy that is involved in something going on its journey from seed to plate. I can be the most rapt and appreciative dinner guest – but it loses all magic when I am the one having to do the work.

So there is the challenge: learn how to find the exquisite in the preparation instead of just the outcome. See the beauty that lies in the work. Delight in the journey.

Or just get someone else to cook for me.

I am completely open to invitations.

xo

Stories

The Queen Who Went to Dinner – A Story

October 21, 2012

“Invite someone dangerous to tea.” ~ SARK

A friend is currently doing a lot of shifting and glorious re-aligning, and there has been some conversation around her being a Queen.  In her honour, I would like to share this story with you.

I originally published it as a story on my old blog, but this is the first time it has been read aloud.  I hope you enjoy it, and hear the message deep deep down.

The image here is one I found on Pinterest and I have had trouble finding the owner. If anyone can tell me, I’d love to give credit where credit is due.

xo

The Queen Who Went to Dinner by Meghan Genge (3:04)

Do you want to hear another? Here’s, The Caged Woman

archetypes

The Stories We Tell

October 15, 2012
Stanton Drew

“We live in story like a fish lives in water. We swin through words and images siphoning story through our minds the way a fish siphons water through its gills.  We cannot think without language, we cannot process experience without story.” – Christina Baldwin

Christina Baldwin’s quote leaves me breathless:  “We cannot think without language, we cannot process experience without story.”  That quote and Martha’s Beck statement that, “the past only exists as a story in your mind,” both found me around the same time.  I was searching for answers and instead found something that I had always known.

Everything we do, everything we think and everything we are is a result of the stories that we tell ourselves.

The first stone circle I ever visited was the Ring o’ Brodgar on Orkney.  When I walked through the ring of stones the hairs on my arms stood up.  It felt strange and energetic and powerful.  I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I knew it was something special.  No one could tell me for sure about those stones, no matter how much I asked.

When I was in university I wrote a paper for my honours history course on the Druids, with some focus on Stonehenge.  I only got 71% on that paper. Why? Because I had no primary sources.  Primary sources are a difficult thing to find when the people you are writing about did not write anything down.

What do those two things have in common?

Stone circles have caused modern humans a lot of angst.  We are desperate to understand them. We have dug at their foundations and done geophysical surveys and study after study on these rings.  None of our science has ever found a definitive answer about standing stones – and it drives us crazy.

We need the story to make sense of the thing.  Our minds hate not knowing, so we fill the space with possible stories.  My favourite creation tale for Stonehenge is that Merlin had something to do with it.  I mean, why not?

This is the same way our brains deal with the unknown in our lives.  We make up stories to explain every single thing that happens to us.  Our own personal mythology exists so that we can make sense of our world.  But how many of these stories are based in reality and how many are as real as the story of a wizard enchanting stones to walk?

A few weeks ago I sat in the shadow of a stone circle and committed to what I know is true for me: the story is the thing.

I committed to digging deep and understanding the nature of the stories we tell ourselves.

I committed to helping to heal those ancient spaces inside – the ones we have been filling with fear.

I committed to not knowing, and instead to deep listening.

I committed to remembering who I am below and beyond story.

I committed to learning how to re-craft my own myths and to re-write my own stories.

I committed to sharing what I find with you.

I hope you’ll come along.

Your own stones are waiting.

xo