Take some time, this weekend, to figure out life.
Define gratitude. Try. It’s not easy…at least not for me to describe what it means, or try to use other words that seemingly cheapen a feeling and/or action. In this moment I am grateful for the realization of a vision — my home. This place where my soul is being nurtured; where respect is evident and people work hard to maintain respect. I solemnly pray for continuous peace in this house and when there is conflict –for there will be conflict–that those moments are brief and lessons are learned quickly. This space will be a beacon for those within and ones who enter its doors. Let love reign supreme, humility be our guide and tolerance present in every thought.
One of the things that I am continuously working on is my response to religious fanatics, no matter their religion. In New York, there is a trend for evangelists to invade peoples’ personal spaces at anytime. The train is the venue most utilized in my experience. It happens at the most inopportune times: during rush hour, when you’re in the midst of reading a book, or talking to a friend, in comes someone who bellows your need for immediate salvation, or notify you about the danger of being eternally damn unless you believe in what he or she has to say. My reaction, if alone, is to put my headphones on, quickly, and if with someone else (depending on their own belief system) look at them roll my eyes, just smile, or a combination of the two.
The need to spread “the Word” is often extended to bus stops, on your way to and from work and in the case of 10 minutes ago, in the park where people like me are just taking a couple of minutes or so to find some quiet time before they have to go back to work and get ready for a big meeting. Externally I ignore. Internally I am angry, because I know that they would more than likely not appreciate someone doing that to them if the message were different from their own.
Today, I made the Kale with Potatoes recipe that I saw on the internet last night, and in addition to that, I made eggplant with green peppers in black bean sauce and made some brown rice. It was a fabulous cooking experience: every time I thought of a new ingredient, it was at my fingertips. Gotta love it.
Part of my cooperative responsibilities is to cook for the house once a week. For the summer, my nights are Tuesdays. There are many things that I love about my house, but the kitchen is on the top of my list. I love not only the size (it’s huge!), but also being fully stocked with spices –from all over the world — and also having every cooking tool needed hasn’t been bad either.
It has always pleased me to cook. It has always pleased me to cook for people. Cooking for the house joins both pleasures and added even more. Tomorrow, or might I say today, I plan on making a recipe I found online after trying to find a great kale recipe. We have a great deal of kale in the fridge (and in the garden that needs to be harvested soon) and I wanted to use it became too bad to eat and literally end up in the compost bin. So, after browsing a couple of recipes on a few sites, I came across this one: Indian Spiced Kale with potatoes — Yum!
It’s 1:25, are you asleep? My mind is a big blur after staying up and laughing with the housemates and going through a house book (our form of communication between housemates) that dated during the time of Reagan. There are house books dating 30 years ago! The funny thing is, a large part of the entry was centered around food and cleaning issues, what house isn’t?! We then played two rounds of Banana Grahams –the free spirited child of Scrabbles.
It’s 1:30, I am sleepy and I need to take a shower before bed, but life is good and even better when you have people in your life with whom to share the fun.
For a little bit over a week now I’ve been a resident of Fort Greene. A place where the hipsters and “cultured” call home or hang. I would venture to say that outside of Amherst and the Bay Area, we may have more writers, artists and activists per capita more than any other geographic location in the country. Okay, I might be exaggerating!
So, I am here –living in a housing cooperative, which my friend Sasha muses to be my little own commune. It is however not a militant place where if you leave the light on or forget to recycle you get ousted…it is however, a place the seven of us (yes, seven –we share an entire Brownstone) live environmentally conscious, as best as we can, cook for each other and share housing responsibilities. For the most part we are very independent. There is even a garden in the back. If you knew me personally, you would share in my excitement in the way this house mirrors a lot of the images and phrases I placed on my vision board approximately seven months earlier, at my yoga retreat.
Though it is not perfect (and nothing ever is) it is obviously what I need right now and where I ought to be.