Posted by: dafnij on: November 25, 2009
Being an introvert and therefore pretty shy at times, I’ve never been much of a singer. Occasionally, I like to sing along with the radio or in the shower or when cleaning house, but only when no one but me, and maybe my dogs, is around. (The dogs seem to actually enjoy my singing.) Singing can make a person feel incredibly vulnerable, but also very powerful. You’re putting yourself out there, making yourself known, abandoning privacy.
A few months ago, I found myself singing the Gayatri Mantra with a group of people. The energy of the group was low and muted, as was our sound; it seemed that no one wanted their true voice to be heard. Our leader spoke out to us, encouraging us to really sing, to let go. She said doing so would let unobstructed energy flow through the anahata (heart) and vishuddha (throat) chakras…in short, it would make us feel better.
So, I sang. The tension in my throat, a chronic constriction that had become almost unnoticeable, began to dissolve. I felt joy. Enraptured, I was able to let go of wondering what others would think, of guarding my true self until I was sure those around me could be trusted, and just be right where I was, without thoughts, with only the vibration of my voice joining the voices of the group. For a few moments, I had clarity. And I realized just how much I do not say, how constricted my life can become just by holding back.
Now, I sing almost every day. I’m usually still alone, but I’ve found that opening my throat with mantra allows me to express myself more easily in other areas of my life. It’s a few minutes of joy available at any time.
I’ve learned several mantras, but I like the Gayatri Mantra best. This is one of the oldest mantras in the world, thought to have originated more than 10,000 years ago. Written in sanskrit (a very powerful language for shifting energy in the body), the 24-syllable mantra is highly revered. Though the interpretations are many, the one I most connect to is: We meditate on the effulgent glory of the divine Light; may it inspire our understanding. I know it did for me.
Here are the words:
oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥ tat savitur vareṇyaṃ bhargo devasya dhīmahi dhiyo yo naḥ pracodayāt
Posted by: dafnij on: November 11, 2009
My husband and I had a terrible experience with this airline over 4th of July weekend. We had flown to Denver for the weekend to attend a wedding in Rocky Mountain National Park, which was fantastic. Unfortunately, getting home was not so great. Yeah, it was the Monday after a holiday weekend, but we arrived at the airport 1 hour and 45 minutes before our flight was set to depart.
When we entered the check-in area, the cattle corral was full and the line wrapped around the corner and down the next corridor. My husband and I found a place in line while I went to the self-check kiosk to see if I could get us checked in faster. We were planning to check a bag, so the kiosk would not allow us to check in, but said to go to the desk instead. By the time we got to the front of the line, there was only 45 minutes until departure. The woman at the desk used up 7 of our minutes trying to find my reservation because she was misspelling my last name, yet refusing to just ask me how to spell it or looking at my ID, which she had in her hand. She then decided we wouldn’t make our flight and so said she’d put us on the next one. I agreed, and she printed our passes. Only then did I find out that we were actually on standby and in no way guaranteed getting on the next flight.
I was understandably angry and so called reservations to see if they could help. I was told they would not help me and that it was my fault I wasn’t on time. After talking to this lady, I was pretty angry, but had resolved that I would just have to be on standby. But, I wanted someone to recognize that this situation was not my fault and that we were there on time and that the airline could have done better managing the situation. They did not try to get people with flights leaving soon to the front of the line, their kiosk wasn’t fully functional, they wasted time on stupid errors and, looking around the airport, no other airline had the lines that Frontier did. Talking to reservations, I found out that 10 other people on my flight weren’t able to check in “on time.” I simply wanted an apology. I was told, “Well, you can call customer service.”
So I did. And they also refused to apologize, trying to start the whole blame game over with me again. Finally, the woman apologized and offered me a $25 voucher. That was only after I swore I would never fly Frontier again and would tell everyone who would listen about the terrible experience I had. Plus, $25 doesn’t even cover the taxes on an airline ticket. So, big thanks.
We ended up spending 12 hours in the airport and getting back to St. Louis at midnight. We had to pay an extra night of board at Petropolis for our two dogs and $100 to pick them up after hours. Then we had to drive 2 hours back to our house. The whole thing cost us hundreds of dollars and wasted more time than I wish to think about.
One thing I will think about in the future though is where I want to spend my travel money…and it certainly won’t be with an airline with such poor organizational skills and customer service.
Posted by: dafnij on: November 6, 2009
Title: Brunch – the perfect weekend treat
Author: Jennifer Donovan
Publisher: Parragon Publishing, Bath UK, 2005
My husband and I love this cookbook. We happen to love Brunch as a meal too, but we often make the recipes featured in this book for dinner rather than Brunch. We do most of our cooking for dinner and usually eat leftovers or easy prep meals for breakfast, lunch and brunch. Though we haven’t yet tried every recipe, so far we have thoroughly enjoyed every one we have tried.
This book contains 40 recipes broken down into categories: sweet moments; get cracking – the perfect egg; cheese and greens; and toasts and tarts. For the most part, the ingredients are easy to find in the average super market, and, for many recipes, are things we might have on hand. The directions are simple and uncomplicated, not requiring a high level of cooking knowledge or technique. Many of the recipes are quick, but some are fairly time consuming. Additionally, each recipe offers a bit of advice, a reminder or a tip. This is helpful in making adjustments to ingredients or in choosing utensils or methods. Another nice feature is that each recipe has two corresponding photographs: one beautiful, tantalizing, full-page color photo of the finished dish and a smaller, black and white snapshot of the process.
Though there have been just a few instances where things didn’t quite turn out the way they ought to, overall we have had a lot of success and several splendid meals due to this little book. I can honestly say there is not a single unappealing recipe in the book. So, that being said, here are a few of our favorites: Apple Pancakes with Maple Syrup Butter; Omelet Torte with Indian Spices; Mini Bacon & Egg Pastries with Cheddar; Sweet Potato, Mint & Feta Rosti. Yum!
Posted by: dafnij on: October 29, 2009
My husband and I both enjoy a good hot cocoa and often indulge in the warm treat as a dessert on cool evenings. We usually stir one of the powdered mixes you can buy at the store into a mug of milk warmed in the microwave. Just typing that out shines a light on how unappealing the method is. Powdered mixes full of who knows what (sugar galore for sure). Microwaves. These are things I’m generally not a fan of and avoid whenever possible. So, I was beginning to feel conflicted with my love of the warm beverage…because though I love it, I am fully aware of the fact that it’s not very good for me. Plus, I noticed it was sometimes difficult to sleep if I drank hot cocoa too late into the evening.
So, I was really happy to discover an alternative way to make hot cocoa. This way is very different from the store-bought powders and tastes different as well…it reminds me of the cioccolata calda I had with breakfast every morning during my trips to Italy. And, though there’s still sugar and caffeine in this beverage, at least I know exactly what’s in it.
Here’s what to do:
Measure out milk (preferably organic) and pour into a pan to warm on the stove. Meanwhile, put into a regular-sized mug one heaping to one and a half teaspoons of cocoa power (preferably organic) and two teaspoons of honey (preferably raw and local) and mix together into a paste. When the milk is warm, pour into the mug and stir well.
Enjoy!
Posted by: dafnij on: October 28, 2009
Navigating our new city on a recent shopping expedition, my husband and I saw a cloud of small fluffy, yellow balls in our lane coming toward us, moving against the flow of traffic. A moment later, collision and a sound both like and unlike a brief rain shower falling against our vehicle. Then, a speckle of yellow spots across our windshield. “What was that?” asked my surprised husband, “a bunch of bugs?” “Bees,” I said, eyeing a few brave soldiers pulling themselves together on our windshield wiper as we drove on, “Africans.”
I watched the bees on the windshield wiper as, one at a time they crawled from the space between the wiper and the glass to higher ground, stopping on top of the wiper. They shook themselves off. Their antlers twitching and their multiple legs combing the fine hairs on their bodies, as if they were assessing their status. Once they seemed convinced each member in the small group was unharmed, they rested on the wipers, seemingly trying to figure out what to do next.
When we pulled into the parking lot, I cautiously exited the vehicle, not wanting these startled bees to think it was I who interfered with their travels. My husband thought it was funny, me being so cautious around a handful of fluff. But, I knew these weren’t just your average bees, these were African honey bees, otherwise known as “killer bees,” and they were understandably pissed.
In reading Holley Bishop’s book Robbing the Bees, I had learned about African honey bees and how they differ from the docile European honey bees most beekeepers and farmers rely on for honey and pollination of crops. Africans pollinate and make honey too, but they are fierce warriors willing to fight and die to protect their food. They’ve been known to chase a person or an animal who might come near the hive for hours and hours over miles and miles. Once stung, the venom left by the bee attracts her sisters, who will seek and destroy the target at all costs.
African bees have been making their way into the South West United States from Brazil for the past few decades, usurping the hives of Europeans along the way. Hives that have been taken over by Africans are known to be “Africanized.”
Brazil imported African honey bees in the 1950’s because they believed they would do better than their European cousins in the country’s warm climate. It wasn’t long before a few extra feisty renegade queens escaped into the jungle and began their quest for world domination. Seriously. It is highly likely that these bees will continue to swarm and conquer as they make their way further and further North.
When we came out of the store, the bees were gone. I can only assume they flew off to find what was left of their swarm. I admired their determination, their single-pointed focus – the queen, the hive – and the strength of their little bodies, able to survive an impact with something millions of times its size and weight. I also knew if they didn’t find their group soon, they would die, casualties of their mission.
Either way would demonstrate the unbiased severity in which Mother Nature operates. This handful dies in service to their hive or they live, only to end the lives of others.
Posted by: dafnij on: October 26, 2009
July through September was full of movement and travel as I drove my way through 23 states, one end of the country to another with some rambling about in the middle. Some of it I did solo with only Isla and my thoughts to keep me company and some I did with my husband and both dogs. Only one state was visited by plane, the rest by car. Here’s a record of my travels…
Missouri to Colorado, by plane
Missouri to North Carolina – MO, IL, KY, TN, NC
North Carolina to Vermont – NC, TN, VA, WV, MD, PA, NY, VT
Vermont to Maine (with a stop in Boston) – VT, NH, MA, NH, ME
Maine to Missouri (with a stop in Vermont) – ME, NH, VT, NY, OH, IN, MO
Missouri to California – MO, OK, TX, NM, AZ, CA
CO, MO, IL, KY, TN, NC, VA, WV, MD, PA, NY, VT, NH, MA, ME, OH, IN, OK, TX, NM, AZ, CA = 23
Whew! Did anyone know you can buy shrimp in the middle of the desert in Arizona? Yeah, that’s right, there’s a shrimp farming operation there. And how about the fact that Oklahoma smells terrible because of all the pig farms and is famous for serving fried pie. Northern Texas is nothing but prairie. The state of Virginia takes 6 hours to drive through from top to bottom. The drive from North Carolina to Vermont was the prettiest, almost all mountains the entire way.
Posted by: dafnij on: September 4, 2009
Recently, during a visit to my Dad’s house, I found myself watching a show on Discovery, or some channel like that, about a collection of mishaps resulting in a whale the length of a football field exploding in the middle of a city in Taiwan. The show was going over each detail that led up to the incident, beginning with trying to lift the already dead whale out of the water with several cranes that were just too small and onto a truck which was also too small and then not having a place to put a giant whale with its 5-foot penis hanging out and so having to schlep it across town two or three times, its internal temperature rising and bacteria multiplying in its injured body all the while until…POP!
I couldn’t help but laugh, because that’s what people do when something is so absurdly tragic. The repeated (over)emphasis on the end result along with the sound effects and dramatizations all added to the comedy of the situation. And while I found the laughter to be relieving, I was still saddened by the end that this magnificent creature met, as well as reminded of a time a few years back when whales were dying much closer to my home.
One summer when I was in college and living back at my parents’ house for the summer, I took to the habit of reading the newspaper each morning. As a sort of summer assignment I gave to myself, I would choose one thing I had read to write about. For several weeks, there were stories about dead whales washing up on the beaches of Southern Maine. This wasn’t just one or two whales, but many. They were of all ages and types, and what was more unusual than so many washing up in the same area in such a short time was that no one knew why.
Well, I don’t know what exactly it was about these whales dying that affected me so deeply, but I cried for them. And not just a few tears, I really cried. I was devastated that such mysterious, ancient creatures could die because of us. Even though no one knew exactly why all those whales were dying, all of the theories pointed back to human beings. So, I cried for them and I made notes and clipped articles and talked to people who would listen.
Then, that Fall, my non-fiction professor announced that one of our projects for the semester would be to produce a radio essay. I remember actually being annoyed at the assignment, though I’m not sure why, and initially had no idea what to write about. I even thought I might do a piece on the restaurant I had been working at during the summer. Luckily, at some point the light bulb went off and realized I should channel my lasting sadness about the whales into some sort of tribute for them. And that’s what I did.
“Whale Song” allowed me to express the beauty and mystery of whales that so captivated me as well as my sadness at their suspicious demise. I had planned to let you all listen to my essay, but just discovered that payment is now required to upload audio files. So, I regret I will not be able to make it available. Though, if you want to hear it, email me and I will email it to you.
Posted by: dafnij on: September 2, 2009
Yesterday, I turned 28. I had a really nice birthday…the weather was beautiful and I was able to walk in the woods with one of my best friends and my dog, eat at two favorite restaurants (lunch with friend and dinner with family), lick an ice cream cone in the sunshine and savor a lovely glass of wine with dinner. All and all, I couldn’t have asked for a nicer birthday.
And now I am 28, which seems weird in some aspects and very comfortable in others. I still feel like a kid in so many ways, but also recognize that my life is progressing and time seems to move much more rapidly than it used to. I feel more comfortable in my own skin as each year passes, despite the gray hairs which have presented themselves occasionally for the last 3-4 years.
I don’t know when I stopped marking the years and taking such stock in the number of them I had accumulated. But, at some point, I seem to have become far less aware of my age, even forgetting it more frequently than ever expected. I have to ask my husband to remind me of my age at times. And I am not the only one who seems to have lost track of my years. Many of my family members asked to be reminded of which birthday I was upon, each person taking an incorrect guess and expressing pure surprise at my correction.
Step-Dad: “28?! God!”
Grandma: “28! No! I had four children when I was your age!”
Mom: “28! Wow…you’re getting old little bud.”
Dad: “Really, Jess? You’re 28?”
Yes, I guess I am. Here’s to another year…thanks everyone!
Posted by: dafnij on: June 22, 2009
I never thought I’d say this, but recently, I started running. I’ve always hated running, but at various times through the years have been willing to give it a try once again, which has only reconfirmed the fact that I hated it. Though, the last time I really ran was ten years ago in college for my last fitness test ever. The only times I have ever run with any consistency was during field hockey season in middle and high school. And guess what? I hated it. (Just to clarify, I never minded running after something, like a ball or a Frisbee or around bases, but running just to run? No thanks. )
So, why now? Well, I don’t really know. It just seemed like a good idea. And a lot of people seem to really like it, so maybe I would too. Plus, I really need some regular exercise, aside from yoga (which is great, don’t get me wrong). I wanted something I could do whenever and wherever; something that didn’t require special equipment or a gym membership or driving somewhere to do it. And, I wanted it to be something I could do with or without my dogs, because they need exercise too and walking just hasn’t been cutting it. Running seemed to fit the bill.
I’m lucky to have the encouragement and help from my husband who, being a Marine and all, runs several miles multiple times a week. He has been able to give me some key pointers and has even been willing to take short, slow runs with me whenever possible, despite the previously mentioned many miles he already runs. We often take our dogs, who tend to do better when running individually rather than together – too much competition.
After about a week of short, slow runs, I’m already noticing improvement. And, amazingly, I like running. I like how I feel afterward more than I like actually doing it at this point, but that’s certainly something to keep working with. I find myself wanting to go running and keep working at it. I can totally understand how some people find it addicting.
Working with running has also helped me with my yoga practice. When I get home from my run, I am already warm and need to stretch anyway, so it is a perfect segway into my yoga practice. Also, I’ve discovered that running is another form of meditation on the breath. When I let my surroundings or thoughts distract me and lose focus on my breath during my run, I begin to struggle and my mind and body suffer. The same goes for yoga practice. So, practicing after a run allows me to keep building on that focus I have already started to establish. My yoga practice has helped me enjoy and appreciate running and vice versa.
Eventually, I’m hoping to get to a point where I feel comfortable running a couple of miles a few times a week with my dog. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Posted by: dafnij on: June 16, 2009
I’ve never been crazy about eating meat. I was definitely one of those particular kids who didn’t want to eat chicken off the bone (still don’t!), didn’t like meat that was too fatty or too juicy or too much, well, like meat. I did well with hamburger dishes over something like a steak or a pork chop. I do, however, enjoy bacon and the occasional rack of ribs. Even though I’ve never been a big meat-eater, meat has been a big part of my diet simply because that’s what I was fed as a child and young adult and as I learned to cook, meat was involved.
For the past several months my husband and I have only been eating meat about once a week. He likes to eat meat much more than I do, but this is an arrangement we both can live with. And, we feel incredibly fortunate because we are able to buy the majority of our meat products from a local, sustainably-raised grass-fed farm with really nice people and well-cared for animals. There’s none of that antibiotic, feed lot, corn-fed, tortured animal business going on there. And, I can drive by those cows, pigs and lambs! Still, for the past 2.5 years or so, I’ve noticed my desire for meat continually waning.
The less I eat meat, the more I notice how crummy I feel when I do eat it. Sure, there are lots of political and environmental reasons for me to feel crummy, but I’m talking about physically. After eating a meal with a meat focus, I feel lethargic and heavy. My digestion is sluggish and doesn’t operate as smoothly. Though I notice these things, feel uncomfortable and generally don’t like these effects, sometimes eating meat is just easier. I mean, it’s everywhere, especially at the local restaurants.
The other night I was frying some bacon for some BATCs (Bacon, Avocado, Tomato, Cheese) and it was just taking forever because there was so much grease pouring away. The bacon was cut in thick, wide slabs. For the first time ever, I think, I did not enjoy the smell and as I looked down into the pan I realized I was frying the flesh of another creature. Not a pretty image, but the truth.
In yoga, one of the main principles is ahimsa, or non-harming. Working with this principle can get pretty complicated at times, but this is the principle that basically asks people to be vegetarians. I never thought I could make a full conversion, and still don’t know if I will be able to, especially with a meat-eating husband. But, I’ve decided to keep taking steps in that direction.
As one well-known and accomplished yoga teacher, Dharma Mittra, has said: “If you put animals in your stomach, you make your stomach a graveyard.”
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