Spring in a Cup (and Spring Cleaning)

Is this not the loveliest, spring-greeny-iest drink you've ever seen? It's a Matcha Green Tea Latté, which I'm grateful to have been introduced to yesterday. Mine was made with soy milk as I'm avoiding dairy at the moment, but it was nonetheless delicious — only very mildly caffienated, and chock full of green tea's antioxidant goodness. Plus it was hand whipped using a lovely little bamboo whisk like this one....

Sweet!
How long until Starbucks catches on to this emerald green goodness I wonder?

This winter I'm making an effort to emerge from my hermitage (both physically and mentally) at least once a week to gather with women friends. Our conversations always leave me reassured, inspired and encouraged — mainly because so many of us seem to be facing similar challenges and questions about our paths, our identities and our dreams lately and hearing about how others are finding their way through makes me feel a little less alone and overwhelmed. Yesterday I shared the full story of last July's meeting with my Teacher with a friend who I haven't properly caught up with in ages. My friend responded with such awe and excitement it reignited my own sense of amazement and gratitude for everything that's happened since I began my spiritual quest a couple of years ago. Which I desperately needed right now, because I'm hitting a rough patch.

"Well" she stated as we eased back into our winter coats and gathered up our belongings, "If there's one thing I know, it's that I've never heard you speak this excitedly about publishing!" Yes, there's nothing like a cup of green and an afternoon with supportive friends to strengthen one's resolve.

Speaking of resolve...

today J dug into the enviable task of cleaning up an area of the cellar crawlspace where the previous owners made the mistake, years ago, of installing the fiberglass insulation that runs between the floor joists upside down, with the vapor barrier facing upwards. In the South (which is where they were from), this is fine. In the colder, wetter North it's a sure-fire way to find your insulation in a heap on the ground — which is where ours has been for years.

He emerged from the basement covered in mud and proclaimed this "the most heinous job I've ever done in my life" and "equal to 1,000 years of penance." If anyone else has penance to work out, I invite you to come on over. There's plenty more work to be done in the basement. Just bring your own Tyvek suit.

From upstairs I helped pull a dozen contractor-sized bags of old insulation through the trap door in the pantry floor, dragging them through the kitchen and piling them up outside the front door into a not-very-attractive mountain of black plastic. I guess it's time to rent a construction dumpster after all, and while it's here J wants to dig into the barn as well and beginning sorting through the intimidating piles of stuff we've managed to accumulate.

I can't even fuel my way through these tasks with chai, as I am still sticking to a vegan, gluten and (mostly) sugar free diet. The condition of my skin continues to change every day. Some days I'm encouraged because it looks and feels better. On others it appears worse, or at least in a holding pattern of aggravation. For all I know the situation could be completely out of my control, due to hormones, or the dry cold of New England winter. Regardless, I finally invested in a high-quality twin-gear juicer that should arrive by the end of the month — just in time for a serious spring cleanse. It was hard to spend so much money on an appliance, but I've seen and heard too many convincing arguments for the benefits of juicing to not want to give it a go myself. On the plus side, well cared-for juicers seem to hold their resale value should endless cups of fresh carrot and kale juice not prove to be the fountain of vibrant health.

My skin, the house...I have to be honest and admit that it took a long time to get to this place of accumulation — both internally and externally. It will take more time and a lot of discipline to "get clean" so to speak. However, I think 2012 is going to be a fresh slate kind of year. I trust that areas of my life that have been feeling stagnant for a long time will begin to move. I want to be capable of honoring the person my Teacher recognized in me by recognizing her in myself and giving her permission to come out and play.

The Herd....

It's been a while since I've posted photos of our friend's pretty Highland cattle. We were at their farm the other day helping while they were away — filling up the giant water pail, feeding the chickens and digging still-warm eggs out of the hay in the coop. I was surprised the chickens were laying in late January, but this afternoon I heard the chickadees singing their spring song and noticed there was still some light left in the sky after 5:00.

Maybe we're rounding the bend.

Spring is still a long way off, but it's time to start thinking about buying seeds for next summer's garden...kales and carrots, broccoli and basil, tomatoes and tomatillos, row after row of salad greens, beets, peas, beans. This year I vow to plant only one kind of winter squash so I don't end up with monstrous hybrids that rot on the vines.  

Does anyone else have this problem?

Meanwhile a pile of new insulation appeared in the driveway today as we continue to button up lose ends at the house. The draft situation has already been much improved by the addition of some long, insulated curtains hung over the interior doors that lead to the basement and unheated storage room (thank you, Target), and last year's caulk-fest also seems to have cut down on some of the wind blowing up through the cracks in the old wood floors. A few weeks ago J repaired and weather-stripped the trap door leading to the basement crawl space so the pantry no longer feels like a walk-in freezer (thank you, J). Tiling the kitchen counter tops, replacing the roof and adding direct-vent wall furnaces to a couple of the rooms are a few more projects looming on the horizon.

Old houses are a lot of work.

This one, however, may be getting its own blog as soon as I decide what the name of the blog should be (something besides J's suggestion of This Old (Ass) House). If J and I end up moving to New Mexico for the start of next September's academic year I'd like to advertise the house as a furnished sabbatical rental, considering that we are within a pleasant 40 minute drive of 7 wonderful colleges including Hampshire, Mt. Holyoke, Smith, Amherst and Williams and in the perfect rural, quiet location for a writer's retreat. Even if we don't end up going to the Southwest, I wouldn't mind having a roof that doesn't leak, heat that comes on at the touch of a button and kitchen counter tops that aren't plastic, red and older than I am.

Just sayin'.

Some days any and everything feels like it's in the realm of possibility, like fresh eggs in January. Other days I get so caught up in all the reasons why my plans are silly and impossible that I can't see farther ahead than the next hour, if that. That's where I've been a lot of the time these past few weeks. I left a good job in publishing to go back to school to study natural health and I want to make what was a difficult decision worth it. Soon. Because getting to do yoga in the morning and stay in my pajamas until noon studying Sanskrit isn't quite enough to balance out feeling directionless career-wise.

Turns out, I don't like that feeling one bit.

Who knew I was such a career woman? Ok, I suppose I did. I throw myself into my work no matter what it may be and I've been working on my design career for 12 years, usually under tight adrenaline-junkie type deadlines. It's really hard to find my bearings when life is moving at a slow-food kind of pace.

Henry David Thoreau I am not. Someone give me some gosh darn impossible deadlines to be met, please! 

Yes, I'm here universe, and you are officially invited to give stubborn, fearful, neurotic little me yet another sign to show me the way forward and reinvigorate my resolve. In the meantime you'll find me in my old-ass house, dreaming of spring.

Sangha

Yesterday J and I spent the afternoon sitting cross-legged and shoulder-to-shoulder with 50 or 60 members of our friend Kiran's immediate and extended Indian family, listening to a man named Ram chant from the Vedas and singing bhajans in Sanskrit and Hindi in her memory as well as some Sikh songs and "May the Long Time Sun..." which I've shared here in the past. Incense was burned and verses from the Bhagavad Gita shared. At the end we sat in a moment of silence before individually kneeling or prostrating and offering rose petals to a beautiful self-portrait painting of Kiran dressed in a traditional Indian sari.

I wish that the circumstances around the invitation could have been different, happier...but as those of you who have been reading Secret Notebooks for even a little while can imagine, it was a great honor to be there. The overwhelming feeling in the house was one of camaraderie, love and hope that Kiran's soul is already well on its way to its next adventure.

 Despite two showers my bindi is still firmly affixed ; )

Afterwards there were several tables full of delicious home-cooked Indian food and lots of socializing (needless to say I put my restrictive diet on the back burner for the evening). Our obvious interest in and knowledge of Indian culture seemed to pleasantly surprise the people we struck up conversations with. An Indian woman even told J he was singing the bhajans better than she was. Since I'm still feeling very sensitive about inserting myself too forcefully into someone else's culture, it's a lucky thing I chose a culture for whom acceptance (or at the very least tolerance) is a well-known quality. 

Otherwise I've been studying, cooking and catching up on about 10 years of sleep deprivation this winter while taking this not-much-work-going-on time to think about what's next and how to get there. All of which I'll save for another post.

PS: Not sure what's going on with Blogger, but I'm having a lot of trouble commenting on some of your blogs. So if it seems I'm not visiting, that's why!

Fond Farewell

A painting by Kiran

The friend that so many of us danced and sang for and with just last Friday has passed on. As I knew in my heart when I saw her, the party was a love-filled send-off. I learned tonight that she smiled so much that evening her face hurt and needed to be massaged afterwards.

"Celebrate life" she told us from her wheelchair, which was obviously her desire even in sickness. Though I didn't know her extremely well, I greatly respect the strength and integrity she brought to both her life and her death and the generosity of spirit she showed in coming out that night. Not only did she share an important message with us, she sacrificed some of the last of her strength to do so.

Tonight when we heard the news J and I were standing in the middle of our friend's vast field, a frigid wind clattering through the icy branches of the surrounding treeline. I looked up to see the clouds parting and a bright crescent moon waxing overhead, a moon that promises re-birth and regeneration, a moon symbolic of feminine power and womanhood. Akal and peace be with you Kiran as you journey on. Please hold her family in your thoughts.

India: A Second Opinion

This video was produced in 2007 but has been making the rounds on Ayurvedic and natural health Facebook sites this week, and I finally got around to watching it last night. I only wish it were longer and that it could have ventured even deeper into the Ayurvedic treatments the reporter received (and I'd also love to see the food being prepared at the Arya Vaidya Clinic)!

Here is some background information from the PBS website where you can read more about the video and this project. T.R. Reid's book, The Healing of America: A Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care was published in August of 2010 after the author's "global quest to find a prescription for American health care."

A commentator on Japan for NPR and former Washington Post bureau chief in London and Tokyo, T.R. Reid has spent a lot of time abroad studying foreign cultures. But Ayurveda was still an unfamiliar option to him when he was considering shoulder replacement surgery. It fit nicely, though, with a larger book project he is working on, exploring various health care systems around the world, part of which will be featured as a FRONTLINE documentary next year. So he decided to give it a shot.

...skeptical to begin with, Reid is now convinced that Ayurveda is "on to something," though it may be hard to prove by Western standards.

Back home, in a brief epilogue, Reid admits that whatever gains he made in India have faded away. His shoulder is as stiff as ever. "But that's not the fault of Ayurvedic medicine; let's be fair here,” says Reid. "It’s because I haven't done a darned thing about my arm since I left India." Still, he has decided to skip the surgery that would have implanted a titanium rod in his arm.

"I'm certain that if I did the kind of massage or any kind of exercise like they gave me, even if I took those awful herbal medicines regularly, that my arm would be making significant progress, because we sure did when I was in India,” declares Reid, "and for that I'm grateful to Ayurveda."

Winter Arrives

What's Your Body Trying to Tell You?

This is a long post and if you don't feel like reading it (I forgive you) definitely DO watch the amazing video I've included at the end. Then you'll get the gist of what I'm really trying to say here.

Hi, I'm Uma and I'm a chai-aholic. It's been three weeks since my last cup of chai.

Sigh.

Actually, kicking the chai habit hasn't been as difficult as I'd feared. I am fascinated by the healing power of food, and were I not so miserably poor at math and chemistry I could imagine studying to be a nutritionist. An Ayurvedic nutritionist, now that sounds nice...(staring off into the distance)...

But I digress.

Here is a list of what I've been working to cut down on or eliminate from my diet over the course of the past three weeks: caffeine (including the green tea), most dairy, all alcohol, gluten, sugar and any food that comes out of a can (with the exception of organic canned coconut milk). I already don't consume fried food, meat, processed food, or soda so those things aren't an issue.

I've added: South African Rooibos tea, a high-quality whole-food multi-vitamin from New Chapter, 4 ounces of Aloe Vera juice a day, and am testing an all-natural topical product from Kopec Naturals called Rosacea Remedy. I also continue to take my usual curcumin supplement and use a good amount of turmeric in my cooking.

Fingers crossed, I think I'm starting to see a little improvement. The condition doesn't appear to be worsening, certainly. You know, in and of itself rosacea isn't some horrible, deadly disease. As far as health issues go, things could certainly be so, so much worse. To me, however, it does raise a great big red flag that something is not right. With that attitude in mind I see the red mess on the side of my face, (as unsightly and itchy as it is) as more of a blessing than a curse. Why? Because my body is communicating with me and telling me that something needs to change — and I am able to hear that message. Maybe it's saying "you're suffocating me with all that bread!" or "Hey, I'm allergic to milk!" I don't know exactly what the issue is yet, and that is the challenge. But I'm convinced the rosacea can be controlled if not completely eliminated through dietary changes, and it's my responsibility to figure out what my body needs to regain balance and health.

The dermatologist I saw years ago was not interested in helping me regain balance. He was interested in helping me eliminate the symptoms of rosacea. He gave me a tube of metronidazole and told me I'd most likely have to use the prescription for the rest of my life. Really? That's an acceptable outcome, an acceptable answer? And when the inflammation currently manifesting as rosacea on my face continues unchecked in my tissues and begins to manifest as something even more serious somewhere else will I receive another prescription and be told to just keep taking that for the rest of my life? My best guess is yes, I don't know about yours.

Doesn't it seem a lot more logical to do some investigation and figure out what the root cause of the inflammation is? But that approach takes time and work and a willingness on the part of the patient not only to change their habits but to begin slowing down and taking the time to listen to what his/her body is trying to tell them. And that in itself takes practice because one has to turn inward in a world where it's much easier to have your attention turned outward constantly.

But that's a bigger topic.

Anyway, as I sat looking over the literature that came with the small bottle of Rosacea Relief (a 30 day sample of which is free, by the way, on the Kopec website) I was struck by a reference to the product helping to restore the natural ph balance of the skin (from acid to alkaline). If the goal is alkalinity, will simply dabbing a topical solution on my face really be enough? What about a two-pronged approach of establishing alkalinity internally as well as externally?

This question led me down a new path in my online research of rosacea, and brought to mind the vivacious and inspiring cancer survivor Kris Carr and the raw-food alkaline diet she outlines in her book Crazy Sexy Diet. If her nutritional approach is good enough for stage 4 cancer, it's definitely good enough for rosacea. I immediately ordered a copy and plan to try out her 21-Day Cleanse as soon as it arrives and I've gathered the necessary ingredients (and appliances...juicer here I come) for doing so. Meanwhile I've been concocting crazy salads in the kitchen for the last few days, using recipes from the wonderful Kripalu Cookbook as my inspiration.

So this is where I'm at — and though some of you are probably thinking "poor Uma, she can't eat anything!" Though I'd make a horrible dinner guest at the moment, I am actually not craving any of the foods I've had to cut out,  and am kind of excited in a nerdish- health-nut way to be conducting an experiment on myself. Which reminds me of a video I watched last night on TedX by Dr. Terry Wahl, a medical doctor with MS who decided to conduct her own experiment when her symptoms progressed to the point of making her wheelchair bound by disease. I'm sure you're going to be as inspired by it as I am.

Conduits of Healing

I'm still thinking a lot about last night. J described the evening as more of a "ritual" than an "event" and I think that is absolutely true. Being present there made me think of my mom's fight with cancer on what would have been her birthday yesterday. In addition to still feeling my way around having lost both of my parents to terrible diseases in a two year period I have also been dealing with a confusing and stressful situation that has being chipping away at my peace of mind for several months and has no doubt contributed to the return of my rosacea. Last night brought with it a bit of clarity around the question of what constitutes a true healing environment and who can be considered a healer. It widened my perspective.

Oddly, J and I both came home last night feeling terribly sick, which is why I was sitting up in bed typing a blog post (and sipping a hot infusion of raw ginger) past 2am. Had we both eaten I could have blamed indigestion, but J didn't sample the wonderful food. Had we both imbibed I could have blamed the alcohol, but I did not drink. Had we both gone snowboarding yesterday I could have blamed over-exertion, but I sat at my computer for most of the day, working. J thinks that when you open yourself fully to being with someone who is sick you take on a little of their sickness yourself, even temporarily. And if we are indeed all one, this transference of both sickness and health energetically makes perfect sense. The concept of healing by prayer is based on this concept, is it not?

In fact I'm going to go so far as to say that I believe the root of all healing is intention - the intention of the healer combined with the intention of the patient to co-create better health. I'm beginning to sense that all the degrees and experience in the world won't make someone a healer in the truest sense of the word if that person's intention is distracted by profit or personal recognition. In other words, if that person's ego (or what in Ayurveda would be called the "Ahamkara" the "I-former") is energetically siphoning healing power away from the patient and feeding itself instead. And unless controlled, our egos are ravenous. They desperately want to cling to the familiar, that which makes "me" feel like "me," that which creates boundaries in consciousness by separating us into individuals.

One of the Ayurvedic sutras I'm studying states,

avrttir vyadhih sokarttan anuvarteta saktitah,
atmavat satatam pasyed api kita pipilikam

"To the best of one's capacity, one should always help those who are poor, diseased, afflicted with grief, or helpless. Even insects and ants should be treated/viewed as one's own self."

Yes. If as a healer we can recognize ourself in the lowliest ant, imagine the respect and healing intention we can bring to another human being? To heal with intention begins with healing one's own sense of separateness from the rest of the world. The practice of true medicine begins with the practice of non-harm.

I don't know what most of the people in attendance last night studied in college or do for their "day jobs" but I found myself for several hours in the presence of healers and surrounded by sincere unSELFishness. Musicians and dancers and friends alike became conduits of healing through the power of their intention, and that power wasn't diverted by thoughts of monetary gain or self-promotion. It reminded me that studying Ayurveda is about far more than holing up in my house with textbooks, but also about learning to be fully present and unselfish in the world.

Face and Embrace

J and I just returned from a fund-raising event for a friend who is battling liver cancer — a young, vibrant mother of two small children, part of a tight-knit family who have already withstood more than their fair share of tragedy in this lifetime.

The room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder when we arrived and the music, a lineup of world musicians, drummers and dancers from the area, had already begun on stage. A makeshift bar had been set up with everything from mixed drinks to three flavors of locally brewed kumbucha, and there was a spread of hot vegetarian and raw food donated by two area restaurants. Dozens of local businesses, healers, artists and craftspeople had donated gift certificates and goods for a silent auction and a long table had been set out to hold the bounty.

Our friend attended the event for as long as she could, seated in a wheelchair by the stage. The drummers pounded their drums for her, the dancers danced in front of her diminished frame with the intensity of tribal healers, gathering spirit and strength from the very depths of themselves and throwing it over her like a blanket of energy. Art, culture and community merged together, blurring the lines between neighbors and family, and for a while all that was comprehensible to me weren't the forms in the room but the energy — everyone fighting, internally, his or her life battle. Some laughing, some crying, some silent, but everyone partaking in the giving and receiving of energy, food, drink, sound and creativity. Everyone offering what they could to the mix, like a stone soup. The evening was a true co-creation.

A community coming together in such a way to support someone so very sick should be the norm and not the exception. To dance at the feet of sickness and drum in the face of mortality is to celebrate life —all of life, not just the pretty parts. It's far easier to turn away from the brutal, undeniable truth that a body ravaged by cancer tells to us. Joining together to face and embrace that truth is where true healing happens.