Mind your peas

Food memories are precious to me. My mother loved peas, so in the springtime, she brought large paper bags full of pea pods, and we sat together on the front stoop shelling peas-- that delicious tactile experience of popping open the pod, unzipping its full length, and tipping the plump green peas into a bowl.

In the summertime we shucked corn together, a much messier and more tedious occupation, where we sat on either side of the large bag where all the husks and silks went, picking the illusive strands out from between the kernels. I'm not sure, but I think she loved Silver Queen the best, a tasty pure white corn. The fact that it wasn't always as good as it could be made the times it was ideal extra special. Corn, peaches and pears are all risky-- they can be so delicious, so perfectly plump and juicy that you can't get your eyes open for savoring each bite-- or so mealy, you want to spit them out. Worth the gamble for the possibility of perfect pleasure.

Slow food is a new term, but that's how I learned things. Peeling, shucking, simmering, stirring, smelling, tasting... and all those memories are there for me now that my mother is gone. The spring brings the peas and the anniversary of her passing. It will possibly never get any easier? But I buy the peas, shell the peas, and remember those companionable times with my strong, beautiful, energetic mother.

Emerald Green

I don't mean to freak you out, but I have a dead hummingbird lying on my nature table. I found it on the pavement outside of Talbot's two weeks ago, where I had gone to buy a new pair of black pants. My old pair, which could go anywhere from work to the opera, had died. I don't know about you, but I really need a good pair of black pants.

Karen, the best saleswoman on the planet, was there because I was praying the whole time I was walking up there that she would be. She's even tinier than I am, knows the merchandise in and out, and has the gift of knowing exactly what I, not a good shopper, should buy. I explained my predicament. She walked several paces to a rack of trousers, plucked off a trim pair-- exactly my size-- and swung them in my direction. "This is it," she said. "You can wear them anywhere, throw them in the machine and they're ready to go. Perfect every time."

Leaving the store triumphant, I noticed a speck of emerald green on the expansive esplanade in front. Emerald is an unusual color, so I was curious and approached the speck. A dead hummingbird, of all things, in the middle of the sea of pavement! My immediate thought was to fish a tissue out of my purse, scoop him up and gently deposit him under a bush. But-- how often do you get to see a hummingbird? If you see them, as soon as you see them, they are gone, out of there, faster than the blink of an eye...

So at first, I stared. At his plumage, shimmering emerald. At his long, needle-thin beak. At the tiny ruff of feathers around his neck-- a circlet for a prince. (I'm guessing this bird was male because male birds seem to get all the gorgeous colors.) How did he come to be in this sea of pavement?

I walked home holding him in the tissue, and soon, when I can bear to let him go, he'll be buried amidst the ferns of my garden, ashes to ashes, green to green, another bit of stardust in this shimmering web of life.

Yoko Ono is Following Me on Twitter

Sunflowers at the farm market

Have you tried Twitter yet? I began tweeting this summer as an experiment, doing research on social networking on behalf of the non-profit I work for. Twitter content can be inane and totally disconnected, as if each person is chatting to the universe with no response, over and over-- “I wish someone would buy me sushi” or, “I’m giving a presentation on 21st century algorithms”.

But there have been some highlights. The way Twitter works is that you find people who’s thoughts interest you, and you follow them. Ditto for others who find your thoughts interesting (or who want you for their sales lists). Then whenever someone you’re following posts a thought, it appears on your list. You might follow the BBC (too many tweets for me), the White House or Number 10 Downing Street. I recently discovered the Joint Chief of Staff is tweeting!

My top 3 highlights so far : A poem of mine was re-tweeted (RT for short, i.e., shared around after I had tweeted it) on Poetry Central, by a medievalist at Yale; Yoko Ono is following me (of course, I ‘followed’ her first); and Greg Mortenson just joined twitter, and is tweeting from Afghanistan! He happened to start the day I finished reading his greatly inspiring book Three Cups of Tea (see previous post). How utterly thrilling! Rather like Mother Theresa tweeting.

Yoko Ono, by the way, tweets lovely things about world peace and love. On August 11th she wrote, “The town is shining, sun, rain, or snow. We live in a beautiful universe. Enjoy the miracle you are part of.”

RT: All you need is love.

Doing it with love

Gemini Team Member Beth Phillips Mallon
& Renowned Chef/Author Rebecca Katz
backstage at Food As Medicine / CancerGuides II, 2009-
beautiful friends & colleagues

I recently helped create and orchestrate a Center for Mind-Body Medicine training for 500 people, mostly health professionals, held here in Washington, DC. On the last day of the program, numerous people came up and thanked me for my hard work and my part in making the program such a wonderful experience-- so nice! The largest single group of our attendees were physicians. They are so accustomed to very different, considerably more cut-and-dried atmospheres at conferences they attend, so it came as somewhat of a shock to them to find the environment warm and nurturing.

One of them said to me, This is the best medically-oriented program I have attended in my 40 year career. I looked her in the eyes, and out of my lips came the words, There is no law against doing it with love.

Wow... that’s really what I have to say. There is no law against doing it with love, whether it’s the way you work with colleagues, family, friends, community, country, or the world…

In putting this program together, our small staff at the Center formed ourselves into a team. We had a name—‘Gemini’, because we were doing two trainings at once—Food As Medicine and CancerGuides II. Each of us identified and committed to a role, which we took on and saw to completion, whatever it took to do so. Each of us counted on the other, 1000%. We met weekly and brainstormed, and helped each other troubleshoot rough spots. We worked with creativity and love. The training was made out of this sublime material—and it showed.

In the same way, I have always thought that if you stir the rice with love, that’s what your family will taste. Put the raw rice in the pot, rinse it with water, stir with your hand. Smile as you stir, and think loving thoughts…. The rice will be sweet and nourishing to those you love.

Go, Gemini! Our team at a pre-program planning session / picnic
with microplaners (a great piece of cooking equipment!)
They look like pirates! Or- are those magic wands?

And no planning session would be complete without a bowl of cherries....

There’s no law against doing it with love.