Solar eclipse, super moon and equinox all at once - what a celestial kind of day! A time for change and new beginnings, to be sure. Definitely feeling a lot of energy and good forces abound. Somehow, having been born on the winter solstice, I always feel a profound connection to the significance of the change of season.
Perhaps most profoundly this year, as five more of my little lavender buds forged their way through the soil this morning. How triumphant! The growing season is upon us. And in celebration of the start of spring, and in having lovely houseguests staying with us this weekend, I bought some fine flowers at Steve's Flower Market on Grand Avenue, a charming little studio/shop with a wide selection of flowers by the stem.
One thing I do miss about living in Seattle is the availability of local, fresh flowers all the time, almost everywhere you go. Steve's was like a tiny little sliver of that floral abundance.
Ranunculus are my favorite flower, a sort of rose-looking bloom with papery, fine petals. They often have a vegetal growth in their centers which I think is the most interesting thing. We got them at the restaurant I used to work at in Madison, Nostrano, and dubbed them "salad flowers" because of the lettuce-y growth.
Anyway, I'm curious: do you feel effects at the solstice or during eclipses? Nearly every eclipse coincides with some strange or unsettling experiences for me, though today seems to be an exception.
Nothing like thinking about the vastness of the universe and the interplay of planets to put things in perspective.
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I'm a reader, but I don't often have the energy or attention span anymore to devote to completing whole books in chronological order (sad but true), so I like something I can dive into at any point and whenever I please. The Green Pharmacy, by James A. Duke, Ph.D., has been my go-to piece of perusal literature for the past year; it is a compendium of maladies and ailments, herbs, tinctures, oils and roots. It is brief but informative, interjected with the author's compelling personal anecdotes. Something about it is soothing in a way that no medical journal or FDA recommendation has ever been. In fact, it is quite the opposite of western medicine; instead of inspiring dread, guilt or fear, The Green Pharmacy offers its reader self-empowerment, affirmation that one's health can and should be taken into one's own hands with what the earth readily offers. Very inspiring for those seeking to be self-reliant. And just in case you aren't quite sold, I will share a personal anecdote of my own (or Dan's, rather) to illustrate its helpfulness, at least in one or two scenarios. Last year Dan developed a really ugly swollen index finger, tinged green (ugh!) with some sort of fungal infection. Like, so dead the nail was going to fall off (again, ugh). I was fretting because, naturally, we had no health insurance and it looked so bad I was sure he needed some serious antibiotics, but steadfast as he is in his beliefs, he would not go to emergency care no matter how much I pleaded. It was shortly after we purchased the GP and I guess I hadn't gotten around to reading about garlic yet, but Dan had. He read about the restorative, antibacterial properties of the plant, and bought an enormous bottle of capsules that he took 3 times a day and within a matter of a few days, the swell had completely gone and his finger was 100% back to normal (the nail still fell off, but this was probably for the best). Since then, we've used garlic to fight other fungal infections (ahem, athlete's foot) to just as effective results. In these cases, we've found, per Dr. Duke's recommendation, that slicing a clove or two open and applying it directly to the effected area reduces swelling, itch, etc. etc. Do you have any natural remedies that you swear by? I am big fan of ginger tea for calming my stomach, and have had good success with acupuncture for other stomach-related issues. For migraines, I've had gua sha and cupping treatments, which absolutely work to break up tension in the back and neck, though I've tried both feverfew tincture and evening primrose oil for headaches to no avail. All a matter of trial and error, I suppose. And, just for fun, here is our garlic. In a garlic-shaped garlic roaster. Seriously though, garlic. (Garlic roaster courtesy of my dear friend, Leah Olson, who knows my heart all too well)
I've been thinking a lot about the meaning of the "homestead" and trying to define what exactly I'm hoping to build in becoming a homesteader. I guess most of all I get impressions and feelings of things: the calm and slight euphoria of chopping and sauteing onions in butter; a sense of independence in seeing my medicine cabinet well-stocked not with pills and antibacterial ointments, but with garlic and ginger and herbal teas; even the enjoyment of looking at my things - a vignette that is pleasing to the eye, like the way my favorite, well-worn books look leaned against one another on the bookshelf. I guess it's about comfort, creating a haven that is personal to you and your own little history, adding and subtracting to it as time goes on, but above all, loving and caring for it. I don't know why I didn't read more of it, but I think this is what the Apartment Therapy book is all about, at least from the first few chapters of it I did read. Creating a peaceful, functional and personal space in which to exist each day is such a beautiful thing that I think gets lost on people in their daily lives. I, too, let the clutter pile up until I can take it no more at times, but once I go through everything and clean up, I feel a mental fog I wasn't even aware of has cleared. Imagine how fully I would operate if I never let the fog build up in the first place! Dan and I only recently moved into our new place and have lived somewhat nomadic existences these past few years together (and separately in our years immediately after college). In this time we have accumulated and purged so many things, stuff we'd inherited from family or old roommates, nothing that ever felt like anything we'd chosen. So now I'm fully ready to make a home, as they say, and have been trying to slowly and purposefully put together a beautiful and relaxing space with only the things that mean anything to us. Here are some vignettes from around our house. In the bedroom: a vegetable crate Dan got from work houses some of our favorites: Walden, Brave New World, Kitchen Confidential. On it, a glass tray that belonged to my grandmother. Though I never met her, my mother tells me she used the tray for perfumes and jewelry. The wooden jewelry box on top of it, my mother brought me from a trip she took to Indonesia with her interior design class when I was twelve. It still smells like Asia to me. The "rug" on the floor is actually a deer skin given to us by Dan's father, whose friend got this deer last year. Having grown up in rural Wisconsin, Dan has hunting in his blood and holds the sport dear to his heart. I guess most of my favorite places at my house involve books, which I'm not sure if that is an escapist thing or an intellectual thing. In any case, we found this bookshelf in our alley a couple of weeks ago, and with nothing immediately and glaringly wrong with it, we tossed it in the back of Dan's pickup and now here it is. The picture on the wall over it is a painting I made for Dan on his 25th birthday, a few months after we started dating. We were living in Madison, Wisconsin, where I went to college and he grew up. I was dying to move from there, and was also going through an obsession with French new-wave films, many of which involved the main characters committing a crime and having to go on the lam. So this painting is of Dan and I on the lam. The other picture is a still from my favorite film, Lost in Translation; the connection between Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson is so palpable. The egg timer on the first shelf is a plastic piece from Boggle that just about everyone who enters my house (most notably my nephew, Mason) becomes inexplicably fixated on. The orange troll is a present from Dan's aunt, one of the few sentimental things he's held onto over the years, and down below it, the skull of the first deer he got when he was twelve. Our beautiful brick wall! I have been obsessed with exposed brick for years, and when we finally moved into a place with it, I was ecstatic. The pictures are each of us holding our newborn nephews; we would like to add to the wall with more photos but the joke is that there are none in existence of the two of us! Note also the VHS box set of Rocky I-IV, one of my favorite film series ever. My brother was an absolute doll this year for my birthday - about a month after we moved to Chicago, where he is, all the way from Seattle. I think he was ecstatic that we were back and wanted to help us out with furnishing the place a bit. He found this gorgeous antique coffee table (also a trunk for storing blankets!) and this intricate area rug from Ikea. My friend Jeanette was similarly wonderful when she visited for a weekend and left a thank you note and gift card to Anthropologie on the pillow of the spare bedroom where she stayed. What a classy move! It was one of the most thoughtful gestures ever. I used the gift card to buy these beautiful coasters to protect the table. Here's a close-up of the rug, because it is just too good: And just for fun, here we are enjoying the home on my birthday: Dan, me (so pictures of us do exist!), my nephew Mason and brother, Pat.
We're halfway through March and the first 70 degree day is upon us! We're anxious to get our little plants, which are nearly teeming over their trays, into our vertical garden so their roots can spread out a little. But something tells me (history, perhaps?) that we're not quite done with snow yet, and will most certainly see another freeze yet. That chard! I love how purple it is, and how it curls over the edges of the tray. Also, it's ironic that we have a camera on display in this picture, as I am maybe the world's worst photographer. I can't seem to take a picture without it coming out blurry. Anyway, I also planted some lavender last week, and am excited to report that the tiniest little buds have broken through the soil. I'm just experimenting, having never grown lavender before, but am so looking forward to the possibility of fragrant blooms soon. I bought French Lavender, as I've read it does the best indoors, but also "True Lavender" (this one is yet to grow at all. Everything I read also told me to use a sandy soil so I used cactus soil and keep it really well drained. Anyone have any other pointers for growing lavender indoors? I want it to work so badly! Here are my first tiny sprouts (you may have to squint! Hint: bottom and top left. I think it may be only visible to me in this photo though because I know where they are in real life). Also, beautiful cilantro that I can't wait to put in guacamole.
While this might be embarrassing to admit, I think it illustrates the point I want to make very well, and so I am admitting it. Last week, I went to a professional waxing salon because I usually do my waxing myself, but sometimes I end up tearing my skin a little (I know!) and I wanted that to not happen anymore.
So. When I got there, they had me fill out a form, and at the very bottom it warned that if you used any topical or internal treatment for acne, they were unable to perform any service. As I've used some form of topical application on my face for the past um, fifteen years or so, I had to speak up. They told me that all of those chemicals are so drying to the skin that if they were to use the wax on my face it would pull off my skin, which is why this had been happening when I did it at home, too. That night I decided once and for all to forgo anything unnatural on my face. At our weekend workshop in Iowa, we made a honey scrub that I've been using twice a day, and my skin has been feeling so soft and clean because of it. The recipe is really simple. In a little jar or bottle, combine the following: 1/4 c. brown sugar 1/4 c. raw honey about 1 tbsp. olive oil The consistency takes a minute to get used to because it doesn't suds up like most soaps. In fact, the woman who gave the workshop said always avoid anything with suds because it is full of chemicals. I usually work it into my skin for about half a minute and rinse with warm water, then pat my face to dry. Now, as a full disclosure, I have tried raw honey as cleanser in the past and only made it about a week because I started breaking out so much. But, and I knew this then but was too impatient, the breakout is a natural reaction to the switch from the chemical-y facial cleansers to all-natural products, and is temporary. This time I hope to stick to it! I've read about making oil cleansers too and would like to try that next. I've also read tea tree oil is very good for your face. And as my usual course of action with my dry winter skin, I've been liberally applying Dr. Bronner's Coconut Oil to my hands, arms and legs whenever I get out of the shower. I like to rub the excess from my hands into the ends of my hair (though my hair is VERY thick and textured so I might not recommend this to others with finer, silkier hair). Does anyone have any natural skin care ideas that work for them? While it's technically meteorological spring today, we have another few inches of snow on the forecast for the next few days. Even so, our little seedlings are peeking through the soil quite nicely. I love the beautiful colors, and I can't wait to see how everything will grow in our vertical garden. I'm also crazy about this hyacinth my mom gave me but now, a week later, two of the flowers have completely died. Does anyone have any tips for keeping hyacinth alive? I'm noticing some new blooms towards the base of the stalk, but I'm not sure if these will get any bigger or not. Here it is in its heyday. Last weekend, we jaunted over to Cedar Falls, Iowa where my dear friend and old college room mate, Lindsay, was speaking at workshop at a local college about self-reliance and sustainability. Intrigued by learning more about her farm and by the topics of backyard chickens and other homesteading practices, we made a weekend of it. It turned out to be the most inspiring and motivational weekend we'd had in a long time. In any case, Dan started our vertical garden when we got home, a project we'd had in the works for a few weeks already. Dan, who is working at an urban farm and has access to these kinds of things, brought home a pallet and fashioned all the slats in burlap so that we may grow things inside them. By means of explanation, here's a couple of photos: He essentially made little pockets that we will transplant the seeds we've already started once the weather gets warmer. We're doing a bunch of herbs - cilantro, mint, basil - and some veggies like arugula and chard. The John Hancock building is in the back - I like the contrast of the urban scenery and our little plants. And just for fun, here's the one picture we took in Iowa, of the storefront from the show American Pickers
The existential conundrum at the root of my and Dan's life is that, in our recognition and full acceptance of the futility of existence, how do we motivate ourselves to do anything? How might we live a "fulfilling" life? And what does it matter if we do or not?
It has perhaps been the most concerning point in my adult life, (I shouldn't really speak for Dan but I have a hunch based on countless long Sunday afternoon discussions in his pickup, circling the Wisconsin countryside) as I've ambled aimlessly down no particular path and while it matters little to me, it certainly seems to go against the grain of polite society. And in any case, it breeds bad habits. And so we are trying to find some sort of meaning, and maybe that's spiritual in nature, but I also feel like spirituality is linked to do doing, to creating. And I don't want to find this spirituality, as I guess I'm now calling it, because I'm afraid or trying to make sense of the incomprehensible fact of mortality, but as a means to live each day in earnest, because it feels right to. For awhile Dan found comfort in the pursuance of excellence; that, while we are here, and like Camus says in The Myth of Sisyphus, probably not going to kill ourselves, we might as seek perfection in all that we do. But this feeling waned; what, still, is the point? He introduced me to Eckhart Tolle, to The Power of Now. To centering oneself in the moment as life is but a constant present state of mind. The past nor the future exist, or rather, they are but figments of memory or imagination that have no bearing on the present, which is the only moment you are actually alive. Mostly I find comfort in this, even in life's mundane moments when it's especially important to recognize truths of existence in order to not wither away from boredom. It amplifies these times, to meditate on the fact that happiness comes from within, from embracing whatever circumstances arise, from wu wei, or essentially non-action, not fighting against the present conditions, whatever they may be. And so embracing whatever happens, not creating a dichotomy of good and bad, allows us to exist in harmony with our surroundings. And so this is what we strive for, and of course we fail often because it is hard and because we don't always try, and also because we've been restless in the past and ready to make something of ourselves, although there creeps in the past with all its mental trappings, and the ego with its desire to be recognized as having accomplished something. This is circular, still, I understand - we don't have any answer to the question of why we do anything but alas, we are doing something, maybe to see what it feels like. And my recording of it I am viewing as an exercise in diligence and to create a pleasant routine by which I might pass the time, and not a sickening homage to my ego, which is how I rationalize backing away from other pursuits. In ANY case, Dan and I are becoming homesteaders because it feels like a lovely way to lead an authentic existence and maybe brings us closer to our biological natures, where we must face a daily struggle to stay alive against the whims of Mother Nature. After all, we are only human. Having for all our lives enjoyed the comfort of never having to guess where our next meal will come from or how we might stay warm or safe, it is perhaps in our personal best interest to understand these struggles more acutely, to have to work for our own survival. We'd like to share our experiences here, to meet like-minded people, if they exist, odd ducks as we are, and have them share their experiences too, so that we may all benefit from advice and grow together (literally and figuratively!). Welcome to Greener Pastures! |