Monthly Archives: January 2015

wednesday wisdom: the two roomies (rumi & roomie)

sara little yoga blog ova hamer

Ova Hamer.

Be crumbled.
So wild flowers will come up
Where you are.
You have been stony for too many years.
Try something different.
Surrender.
Rumi

It’s impossible to be both in the present moment and running stories in your mind. So let the stories go.
Roomie

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meatless monday: cold comfort and soup club

snow falling on williamsburg.

snow falling on williamsburg, 3:30am.

There is so much goodness in winter. This is convenient to forget, especially when you live in a place that only gets more difficult with slippery sidewalks and a thousand knit layers.

But maybe you have a really good month. You take a 3am Uber ride while snow falls in Brooklyn, having enjoyed an evening of cards and Sour Patch Kids with lovely people. You bundle up on an icy afternoon and are taken on a forced nature hike, a trek that’s equal parts calm (forest) and chaotic (Labs off-leash). There are lots of blankets and some unexpected cuddles, books to be read or ignored when you feel like Netflix. Your mom sends you a box of vitamins because that swipe of NARS blush isn’t fooling anyone, young lady. Winter is an anomaly in that it’s the season of acceptable isolation and hunkering, yet your people, without fail, will come out of the woodwork to take extra good care of you.

singing beach, manchester, ma. a winter's beach is still a beach.

singing beach, manchester, ma. a winter’s beach is still a beach.

The goodness of winter starts with comfort.

That’s why we celebrate The Soup Club Cookbook. My friend Caroline co-authored this really sweet, beautiful book with three women who’ve been delivering magical soups to each other for years. Food sharing is the entire premise of Soup Club: feed your friends. Feed your family. Feed yourself. Start a club, embrace crushed red pepper and make soup with abandon! So goes the manifesto. The enthusiasm is inspiring.

Eyeballing Courtney’s bright orange Carrot Coconut Soup, in terms of meatlessness, as we speak. Also interest is piqued over Caroline’s Tomato-Fennel-Chickpea Soup, which “falls squarely into the ‘…Or Maybe It’s a Sauce’ category.”

welcome to the club.

welcome to the club.

To Courtney, Tina, Caroline and Julie: big love and a huge congrats to you, ladies. I tip my ladle to y’all!

wednesday wisdom: you should read this article…

via Psych Today.

via Psych Today.

…from the Nov. 2014 issue of Psychology Today. Titled “Let It Go.” But you might not, which is fine. I love this little bit about rage and anger and its usefulness. So then, just read this:

When we are deeply wronged, there are powerful rewards to staying angry. Rage is like a giant billboard advertising the evils of our assailant. Forgiveness, on the other hand, can feel as if you are letting the bad guy off, endorsing him even. That feels intolerable. Too, anger can be very motivating; it gives us courage to confront the unfair boss, energy to get through the painful trial.

That’s a lot to give up, for the sake of forgiveness. You will have to come to believe that there is more to be gained by forgiving than by staying angry. Usually, and eventually, there is. When there is no longer a constructive action step to be taken that requires your anger as its fuel, the cost to you of the rage you are carrying exceeds the rewards of punishing the offender. At that moment, forgiveness is possible.

wednesday wisdom: what i heard in yoga on monday night

monique jacot morges, 1980.

monique jacot morges, 1980.

Untitled
The body is not an apology.
Let it not be forget-me-not fixed to mattress when night threatens
to leave the room empty as the belly of a crow.
The body is not an apology. Present it not as disassembled rifle
when he has yet to prove himself more than common intruder.
The body is not an apology.  Let it not be common as oil, ash, or toilet.
Let it not be small as gravel, stain, or teeth.
Let it not be mountain when it is sand.
Let it not be ocean when it is grass.
Let it not be shaken, flattened, or razed
in contrition.
The body is not an apology. Do not give it as confession,
communion.  Do not ask for it to be pardoned as criminal.
The body is not a crime; is not a gun.
The body is not a spill to be contained.  It is not
a lost set of keys, a wrong number dialed. It is not
the orange burst of blood to shame white dresses.
The body is not an apology.  It is not the unintended granules
of bone beneath wheel.  The body is not kill.
It is not unkempt car.
It is not a forgotten appointment.
Do not speak it vulgar.
The body is not soiled. Is not filth to be forgiven.
The body is not an apology. It is not father’s back hand;
is not mother’s dinner late again wrecked jaw howl.
It is not the drunken sorcery of contorting steel round tree.
It is not calamity. The body is not a math test. The body is not a wrong answer.
The body is not a failed class.
You are not failing.
The body is not a cavity; is not hole to be filled, to be yanked out.
It is not a broken thing to be mended, be tossed.
The body is not prison; is not sentence to be served.
It is not pavement; is not prayer.
The body is not an apology.
Do not give the body as gift. Only receive it as such.
The body is not to be prayed for; is to be prayed to.
So, for the evermore tortile tenth grade nose,
Hallelujah.
For the shower song throat that crackles like a grandfather’s Victrola,
Hallelujah.
For the spine that never healed; for the lambent heart that didn’t either,
Hallelujah.
For the sloping pulp of back, hip, belly,
Hosanna.
For the errant hairs that rove the face like a pack displaced of wolves.
Hosanna,
for the parts we have endeavored to excise.
Blessed be
the cancer, the palsy, the womb that opens like a trap door.
Praise the body in its black jack magic, even in this.
For the razor wire mouth.
For the sweet god ribbon within it.
Praise.
For the mistake that never was.
Praise.
For the bend, twist, fall, and rise again,
fall and rise again.  For the raising like an obstinate Christ.
For the salvation of a body that bends like a baptismal bowl.
For those who will worship at the lip of this sanctuary.
Praise the body for the body is not an apology.
The body is deity. The body is God. The body is God;
the only righteous love that will never need to say sorry.

Sonya Renee

meatless monday: bright soup for dark days

From the NYT’s enviable online recipe collection: a bright green leek soup recipe worthy of your Pinterest perusal.

sara little yoga blog meatless monday 07KITCH-articleLarge

via NYT.

Further proof that humble things like leeks and other roots of winter can — and should — be a mainstay in your cold-weather cuisine.

Bright Green Leek Soup
via David Tanis, NYT

6
medium leeks, about 3 lbs.
4 tbsp. butter
Salt and pepper
4 garlic cloves, minced
Pinch of cayenne
½ c. rice
8 c. hot vegetable broth or water
10 oz. baby spinach, washed
Grated nutmeg, to taste
½ c. crème fraîche
2 tbsp. thinly sliced chives, for garnish
2 tbsp. thinly sliced tarragon, for garnish

Trim leeks of outer layer and stems. Chop white and tender green parts into 1/2-inch chunks (discard tough gray-green parts). Soak leeks in a large bowl of lukewarm water, swishing to dislodge sand. Drain and soak again, then lift leeks from water, leaving any sediment behind.

Melt butter in a heavy-bottomed soup pot over medium heat. Add leeks and season well with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring, until leeks are wilted, about 8 to 10 min.

Add garlic, cayenne and rice and cook for 1 min. Add hot broth and bring to a boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Simmer until rice is very soft, about 25 min. Remove from heat and let cool completely before proceeding.

Using a blender, purée the raw spinach with the cooled soup mixture. Strain the soup through a fine-meshed sieve, discarding any fibrous solids. Adjust seasoning and add a little grated nutmeg. Thin soup with broth or water if necessary.

Heat soup through just before serving, to preserve the bright green color. Garnish each serving with a tablespoon of crème fraîche and a sprinkling of chives and tarragon.

wednesday wisdom: ultimately…

.

.

We’re all just walking each other home.
Ram Dass

meatless monday: weird food

sara little yoga blog miso
Unless you count dissolving miso paste into a mug of hot water as “cooking,” there has not been much of that in the past year. There has not been high regard (or even much thought given) to Meatless Monday, either. I’d like to change that, eventually. Now is not the time.

Here are some of the meatless things I’ve eaten in the past year.

Miso soup
Miso soup with spinach
Miso soup with Sriracha
Wine
Coffee
Almond milk
Vitamins
Green juice
Quest bars
Popcorn with dried cranberries
Ricecakes with hummus and cucumber
Icelandic skyr (“yogurt”)
Bourbon (in Kentucky)
All the mozzarella (in Italy)
Whatever candy is lying around the office
Fruit cut in half (1/2 banana, 1/2 apple, etc.)
Handfuls of sunflower seeds

This is the Crisis Diet.

Disclaimer: I am not condoning the Crisis Diet by any means, and if you ever had any doubts about my nutrition credentials, this should clear that right up for you. I am merely a medical hobbyist and a total amateur. The world’s worst, in fact. Do not follow this diet.

I did, however, manage to cook something exactly once, worthy of sharing here. Curried Pumpkin Soup. It was fantastic and you can find the recipe here. It requires an actual pumpkin, so be prepared to use knife skills and scoop guts and de-seed and roast. It’s really, really cumbersome.

commuting with pumpkin. also cumbersome.

commuting with pumpkin. also cumbersome.

Rediscovering the joys of Meatless Monday is going to be a process, but one I’m mildly committed to. Here’s to coming back to Normal.