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Tag Archives: energy

Ramble: I’m not white…but sometimes I play one…

It happened again. That funny question that irks and tweaks the underbelly of self-identity. “What are you?”

The snark rises and I stutter, “Ahh…huu..man?”

The smirk flashes annoyance, “No I mean like where are you from?”

“Oh I am Canadian – born in Ontario. Not far from here…”

Interruption arises, eyebrows raised, “No I mean your people where are they from?”

“My parents were refugees, fleeing tyranny. And…”

A spark dawns and interjects before I can finish, “Oh you are Middle-eastern. Turkish?”

Now I am annoyed, and I can feel the emotions brush across my face and furrow my brow.

“How about I finish. They came from Europe. 1956. The failed Hungarian Revolution made my father realize he couldn’t stay because he would be arrested and tortured again. And my mother had just had a baby. So when the river froze in December of 1956 they walked across the ice to what is now Croatia.”

A nod. I see they are listening.

“My mother’s brother was in Toronto, so he sponsored them to come to Canada. And in July of 1957 they arrived in Quebec on a refugee ship. And…”

I can see the question coming before it becomes sound, “So you are European – cause you don’t really look white. Kinda Asian actually. Your almost black hair, and skin with a hint of colour and your eyes are almond which is why I said Turkish…”

My turn to speak up and over, “Yeah. Hungarian-Croatian. Well actually Croatian-Hungarian is more accurate. The village was mostly Croatian, but in the Hungarian side of the border. That part of Europe is a mix of people spilling between tribes and blending. I hear there is some Gypsy – Roma – ancestry in my genetic makeup. And some of the tribes that settled in the area had Asian and Middle-eastern origins.”

The other listens, and nods. And summarized my label, “So you are white then..huh. So hard to tell.”

I sigh, and reply, “Nope I am not white, but I’ve been mistaken for one before. I am human. And while my skin has a lighter-tone, my attitude is universal. The place of my birth, and the colour of my skin has nothing to do with how I have experienced the world, or how I think. My advice to you is top labelling people based on outward appearances. You cannot judge a book by its cover; Nor can you see the human inside the body if all you see are the shape and colour that they wear. Yes indeed we are each unique individuals; but close your eyes and open your ears! And you will be surprised to learn that we are all more alike, than we are different.”

I can see my words have offended, as they turn and move away. Truly they meant no harm in asking such an innocent question. Yet it wasn’t innocent at all, merely unthinking and presumptive.  As I watch them leave, I can hear my mother’s voice in my head, “This is why you can’t have nice things – you always break them.”

Yes Mom, I do break them. Because I expect them to be better than that to begin with…

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Ramble: I Miss You Mom

I haven’t posted for a while because my Mom was in and out of the hospital in the last month, and on January 16 she peacefully passed away. Free at last from the many years of struggle with her health. 

It is strange how we create a routine out of the obligations of life. A pattern is shaped from necessity and reluctantly overlaid. Eight years ago my father died, and my mom asked me to come see her more often. At first it was every other week. Somewhere in there it became a weekly visit. Usually on a Saturday, I’d be up by 6am and on my way. The 2-hour drive a quiet pleasant meditation through lovely Ontario country-side. A stop for a coffee. Sometimes a pause for walk on a trail.
I’d stop at the grocery store along the way and get what was needed, And arrive at my Mom’s usually before 9AM. We would have breakfast, discuss what was new and news, make a to-do list of what needed doing, Check the sump-pump, change the filters, light-bulbs, garden, lawn…whatever. Somewhere in there the PSW would arrive and help my mom with her personal care.
Then my mom and I would have lunch, and we’d cook something extra for the fridge and freezer. Sometimes we would bake – tea biscuits, cake, cookies – so my mom would have goodies to offer her many guests through the week. Her local church/community was simply amazing for how they took turns visiting her each evening.
Sometimes I’d stay for dinner, but usually by 4 pm I’d be heading back on the trek back the other way to my own home. Back to my own to-do list that was waiting for me.
Yes there were times I would feel trapped by the pattern of obligation. Times I just felt too tired, too overwhelmed…
And still I would go – maybe shifting the visit to a Monday…
I am not writing this to grumble and brag. I did what I did because I was available and I could. It was my choice. I am writing this because it became such a part of my life that today, this morning, In this here and now of quiet reflection, I realize and I feel the empty space that is here and now. It feels odd not planning a shopping list, gathering the tools to bring, creating a menu, finding a recipe…
I am writing not to say what I did, but to say how much it is missed. 

Poem: Desire

Want and desire are two different things;
Want is the fire that makes my heart sing.
Wanton desire is the hunger inside,
Waning and waxing but never denied.

You are the diamond bright catching my eye;
You are hard sunlight sparking my rise.
I would impale you between my cold sheets,
Making my bed burn crescendo complete.

How long can this last here in this moment?
Two bodies co-mingling naked enjoyment.
There is no time for any deep thinking
Just acting and being and deeply doing.

I never asked and you never said yes;
Yet here we both are completely undressed.
Skin calling out to be touched in sweet sin;
Too late to say no – I’m already in.

There’s no denying the size of our want.
Open up, let your soul meet want with want.
There now feel the tangled quivering shiver;
We are one, we are joined, we are forever.

Want and desire are two different things;
Want is the fire that makes our heart sing.
Wanton desire is the hunger inside,
Waning and waxing but never denied.

Poem: Be

I wrote this nearly two years ago – and you know what it is one of the more awesome things I have ever written! So here for an encore read is the Poem: Be

I
be
me

leaf
be
leaf
be
life
belief

be lithe
be light
be right
be wrong

be all
day long
be along
and still
belong

be one
be two
be free
be you
be us

belay
be lead
bleed
bled

don’t let it get
inside your head

be up
be down
be square
be round

bee
be a
bee
buzz
away

life is lived
until we’re dead
be alive
be unafraid
be whatever
you want today

just be
and be
and be
some more
then be away
so happily
on your way
to being free.

Source: Poem: Be

Garden: Herbs – Chives

Allium schoenoprasum in NH 01.jpg
Allium schoenoprasum in NH 01” by Captain-tucker – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons.

When to Use:
Chives are best used fresh in recipes. Dried Chives may also be used will have a weaker flavour and less pleasing texture.

Best Compliments: eggs, fish, potatoes, salads, shellfish, sole, soups

Chives are normally snipped and sprinkled on food just before serving for seasoning.

Fresh chives may be kept in the refrigerator for up to one week. Chives freeze well, cut chives with scissors rinse in cool water and dry before placing in freezer bags.

Substitutions: 1 teaspoon chopped green onion tops = 1 tablespoon chopped chives

When to Plant
In early spring as soon as ground is workable. Chives are perennials so once planted will normally come back on their own in the spring.

How to Grow
Chives grow best in full sun or semi-shade. A reasonably fertile soil is required. Chives do fairly well indoors in pots or planters in bright windows. Plant seeds 1/4 inch (6 mm) apart and 1/4 inch (6 mm) deep. Thin when seedlings are 3 inches (8 cm) high to be about 12 inches (30 cm) apart. Chives will spread into clumps if allowed to grow over the years. Chives transplant well.

Harvesting
Chives are perennials and can be harvested as soon as stems appear.

Home and Garden Tips
If you allow chives to go to flower (large purple flowers) the plant will seed itself quite happily! To prevent over-spreading pick off the flowers before they go to seed. The flowers can be eaten in same way as the green stems – and have a similar flavour. You can also rinse the chive flowers in a cool water bath (to remove bugs and dirt!) then shake dry and stuff into a jar. Heat white vinegar until bathwater warm (but not hot – we don’t want to scald the flowers) and pour the vinegar over the flowers. Place plastic wrap over the jar mouth before sealing with the lid. Now place the jar in cool dark spot for 2 weeks or so and forget about it! When you remember the jar strain the vinegar into a clean glass jar. The vinegar should have a lovely light chive flavour, and a delicate purplish tinge. Use in place of ordinary vinegar when making salads.