It’s no wonder images of light streaming through clouds have become synonymous with revelation - it’s a vision of abundant hope.
(Isle of Skye, Scotland)
The post yoga report is upbeat, I am a new woman. I go to weekly class at the gurdwara, the Sikh temple. In the cavernous, womb like room we stretch and bend, twist and breathe, although I’m still working on the dragon like ‘breath of fire.’ The plush carpeting and the atmosphere induce calm. Tonight I was focused on my goal, breathing into the discomfort, gaining strength and poise and, oh yes, getting to the curry. I cannot tell you (well I can actually), how delicious that curry is after the yogic workout. The dahl was sublime, mopped up with roti and tonight my sweet new friend who works in the kitchen made chai. Oh but such chai as to lift you to the heights, aromatically flavoured with cardamon and ground fennel seeds. Yoga is good for my body but chai, chai is the path to my heart.
Frozen Lake, Finland
photo via barb
Nature seems particuarly alive in Finland. Maybe it’s because the Finns are so connected to it themselves, with their cross country skiing in winter, and diving into the lake after sauna for an invigorating icy plunge. In summer they live for their time at lakeside cottages, preparing nettle soup, picking berries and wandering into the forest for mushrooms to enliven a meal.
Haggis pakora
Here in Scotland food like this is no big deal, although elsewhere it is a talking point and raises eyebrows.
This will not be the first brilliant fushion of Scottish and Indian cuisine, there’s also kedgeree.
kedgeree |ˈkejəˌrē|noun1 an Indian dish consisting chiefly of rice, lentils, onions, and eggs.2 a European dish consisting chiefly of fish, rice, and hard-boiled eggs.
A garlic bulb home, how welcoming it looks. Garlic is said to support a healthy immune system, lower blood pressure and keep vampires at bay. It seems there are many advantages of such an abode. Would one become immune to the smell, certainly overwhelming if living within it?
(For photo source, click here and more on this art if you click here.)
sometimes i wish i grew up in another part of the world, the parts without tumblr, cellphones, distractions.
There is something mesmerising and lovely about this image of Sri Lankan fishermen, and it would be very easy, consequently, to romantacise it. I will resist though. They are working, working to eat, working to survive. It cannot be easy to sit atop those gangly perches with focused intent. In the way of the heron and giraffe, they are also somehow, beautiful too.
Yesterday was a day of many demands, almost surreal in terms of the contrast of different emotional worlds. In brief, these included taking a family member to hospital and with that came worry, the need to reassure, suppression of self to be present for another, and mental focus in order to be a good advocate for one too old to do so. This was juggled with court, a family matter that had ten years behind it and a sea of feelings. There was a lot of research, intense mental activity and again, a suppression of emotions in order to remain clear headed and sharp. Later, I was standing outside the cinema queuing for “Midnight’s Children,” when it came to me what a strange mixture of a day it had been. I won’t spoil the film for those who haven’t seen it but I admit, I do not love the wry and wordy Mr. Rushdie, nor did I love this film. It was, we agreed, a film that one would benefit from knowledge of the history of India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. There were many layers to the story and fragmented drama, not so much taking you on a journey, as walking you through an interesting shop of things, with many rooms and all the products quite different. It left me feeling unsettled but I really enjoyed the setting and some of the language was brilliant. Simple phrases remain, such as “handcuffed to history,” I do like that one.
Today I’m grounding myself with cooking, catching up with correspondence and listening to music. I’m baking banana bread, making pumpkin and coconut soup and vegetable curry. Run Rig’s old favourite is playing, “Heartland,” and the air is filled with a sweet banana aroma, underscored by masala, cardamon and cinnamon.
Indian buffet today, three different vegetable curries, chai and carrot pudding to follow…..heaven. Throw away the oysters, it’s curry you need to woo her with.
It’s a dull, coolish sort of day. The sky is dominated by grey, the air has chilled sufficiently to have me putting the heat on last night. Now my favourite hot beverage comes into its own - a cup of tea. When I moved to Canada there were some substantial adjustments to be made; adapting to driving on the other side of the road, different social behaviour, calculating tax on goods and significantly, profoundly different tea tastes. This is a coffee culture, a coffee and a doughnut to go sort of world. It’s the small things that unnerve us. We take comfort from little pieces of familiarity, touch stones that lets us know we’re okay amidst a changed landscape.
After extensive sampling and research I was in despair. What masqueraded as tea here was, as Michael Palin said in the Raymond Briggs book on tape, “The Man, “just mimsy wee wee.” I just couldn’t be doing with it. Even searching for an appropriate image for this post was challenging, googling ‘tea’ or even ‘mug of tea,’ produces something pale residing in a dainty cup and saucer…. Then I remembered what we used to call the type of tea we like to drink, namely, ‘builders tea.’ It’s always in a mug, strong, dark and full of tannin with a spot of milk, and is so named because it’s what you give builders (contractors). The mug is important too. I prefer ceramic not china (get’s too hot and cools quickly, can’t wrap your hands round it), with a handle that at least two fingers can easily fit through.
It probably seems irrelevant but for me, tea is comfort, warmth and the familiar, it’s time to stop and chat or quietly let your mind wander, the calm in the storm, the lift when flat and I’d give up a lot but not tea. It’s the beginning and ending of my days, with a cup of tea in hand I always know where I am.
Thanks to ‘neverenoughtea’ for an inspiring url and for other souls in Canadian tea purgatory - don’t be despondent. There’s Dilmah, available in most supermarkets here. It’s robust, full of personality and was a lifepreserver for the tea loving me.
