Plenty enough

I am feeling much better after the chemical poisoning from the water running through the city's pipes. My joy of cooking is back on track and thanks to friends who share recipes (like the one for 'Rice Flour Pancakes') and family who catch, freeze and carry Mahi Mahi on transPacific flights (like the Mahi Chowder I made this weekend) Pete and I are relishing good food.

Here's the recipe for "Rice Flour Pancakes" our friend Dikka Ballantine shared with us. I used to eat a version of these oven-baked pancakes back in the days when they were called 'Dutch Babies.' This recipe is a gluten-free one and thought less fluffy than Dutch Babies, this is ono! And easy to bake in small spaces and small toaster ovens.

Mix together batter:

2 eggs

½ cup flour (other flours work but I use brown rice flour)

½ cup milk (I use rice milk but others would work)

usually a drift of Stevia (sugar substitute)

This morning's recipe was made with organic coconut milk from the can, and a small glob of Seville Orange jam stirred in with the other ingredients

pinch of salt maybe

Prepare fruit:

1 large apple or equivalent of fruit usually makes enough thin slices. Or berries. Spices or sweetener as desired.

Pour the batter into the melted butter. Do not stir. Scatter the fruit slices or pieces on top of the batter.

The recipe you see baking is one ripe banana sliced and scatter, and most of a bag (I didn't measure) of frozen blueberries. 

Bake in the 425 degree oven for 15 minutes. I often turn off the oven, open the door and let the pancake finish cooking. 

Thanks, Dikka! 

If you'd like to know how I made the Mahi Chowder? Email me we could set up a chitchat on the phone and talk about making a version of this wonderful cold weather chunky chowder that we also shared with our campground buddy Nita who loved it.

Pete and I are in the Langley library where common space, community resources are available to all who come. Libraries. How we love them. I have just finished reading the book  The Velocity of Being: Illustrated Letters to Children about Why we Read .... The labor of love of 8 years is the collaborated efforts of more than 100 people who have flourished because of reading. The letters are addressed to 'children' and the artists have drawn images to accompany the words. Wonderful!

What I love is that a book such as this one is available to be read by 'children' or young readers of all ages, here, on the shelves of the library.

 “Velocity” is a celebration of reading and books, and quite a feat, at that. The book’s editors, Maria Popova and Claudia Bedrick, sought out authors of every stripe — novelists and scientists, artists and entrepreneurs — and asked each of them to write a letter to young readers. The list of contributors reads like a Who’s Who of contemporary culture — David Byrne and Yo-Yo Ma, Jane Goodall, Ursula K. Le Guin, Richard Branson, Anne Lamott — with 121 letters in all. Ditto for the many illustrators, including Maira Kalman and Roz Chast, who gave visual life to the project. Remarkably, the whole venture was an act of readerly altruism: Eight years later, the book has arrived, its contents donated, and its profits earmarked for the New York Public Library. That, in tribute to the essential, formative role that books and libraries play in our lives. - The National Book Review

I highly recommend spending time with this book. For me, the tiny space that is our home, bedroom, sometimes dining room, and often a space that must be big enough to allow two very different grown ups to Be. Books and reading them can create space.That's not an easy task, especially as the Elementals require us humans to stay put more than move. But, that task of 'making space' where there appears to be none is something books do! I am marked with the character of "Restlessness" -- astrologically I can point to Jupiter and Venus in Sagittarius to explain. Like using a rear view mirror that's not quite positioned right to see in the driver's seat, I cop to denying or projecting my restlessness. Who? Me?

So this restlessness, does it temper with age? I asked Elsa my astrologer

 Hi Elsa,
You wrote, or maybe created a video on the subject of recognizing “Restlessness” in a natal chart. It got me thinking about that in myself, and my husband. What are some of the placements that would point to being restless? And is it your experience to see restlessness wrestled to the mat over time, and with age?
Thanks,
Restless or wrestled on Whidbey Island, US

and she wrote a blog post to answer. 

If you, or any one you know is one of the "Restless" souls Elsa's answer and the comments in the thread might be good reading. I'm grateful, enlightened and entertained by both the answer and the comments and find that age has not so much tempered my restlessness, but I've been put into situations (like living in tiny tiny spaces with a long, tall and active partner) where that characteristic has had to be channeled.

Leaving can mean so many different things. Here's what I mean. When I had a career for thirteen years, I traveled. A lot. My Jupiter(expansive nature, hopes and dreams) and Venus(desires) in Sagittarius (seeker) thrilled itself by meeting new people and returned to be mom and wife. It wasn't the best of ways to deal with the 'restless' me, but it worked and then life changed.

When I was diagnosed with Environmental Illness and Chemical Sensitivities I tried for a time, to outrun the illness (old habits die hard). Back and forth between Hawaii and Washington we went. By this time, my life was a partnership with Pete. Oh my the challenges he has experienced. Oh my the unexpected solutions we have created over time.

Where am I heading with this? I am heading to the reasons for me writing, blogging and staying put while the physical reality of a chronically ill woman, who will celebrate 72 years within a month, 'leaves' without getting on a plane or a train to get away. Writing and the internet are the vessels I board to care for my need to 'leave.'

For ten years, I have written blogs, and medicine stories to create worlds I believe in; photographs and short videos film the real moments of living in a world where chemicals and choices that are dangerous to Earth, Sky and Beings make life fairy tale, a myth to live every day or night of my life.

To wrap this ramble into a tale that opens to one of the worlds written to channel or siphon off frustration or rage ... here is the next installment of the myth RIPE. The tale writing itself with my help because the unexpressed rage in my liver shouts for a way through where there IS PLENTY ENOUGH.

RIPE started here, and continues here.

“You are counting by them sensible ticks and tocks of their clocks.” D savored the late Fall sun glad to feel heat on her golden face. “That one-way-only kind of time leaves no gap for variation. Otherness falls through the cracks. Though humans do seem to require gravity.” If the weed was challenging the one-who-trafficked between, Coyote was ignoring her. “And I for one like the Startling way. Surprise! She is right on time by the Stars and I favor that telling. Her choice was to be human. Her bones carry all those memories. Her skin has worn thin from the effort and her choice to be Sensitive … and not Sensible? Well, there’s a word for that.”

“At least one.” He would give the baker that much. His meaning reached deep into the sandy Earth to find the weed’s deep intention. Between them the razor shaped leaves, deep and unstoppable root and capricious blooms were among the oldest medicine. A long thin nose hooked over the dog-ness of Coyote’s pale pink tongue. If I hadn’t been there to watch the lies that began that afternoon, while Rabbits lounged in the deception of warmth and safety, this story would have been plucked too soon. Stolen. Green. Artificially preserved.

Camille Isabel “Bel” Santos had a plan: to become infamous. There were many reasons for the plan, and all of them had to do with being uncompromisingly open to hearing The voices. Her people, the Ancestors, had free and easy access to this woman and now that she was fifty the battle over her fate demanded ‘boundaries.’ To become infamous Bel Santos would need to make the most of her restless nature without pissing-off the long dead. When she baked, her thoughts, sometimes,-- no, too often, took rides over and out of reach of the now. Every time she did that the guardians, allies and transgressors sat at the banks of the flow of time. Letting off steam and venting the rage she so carefully caged was building up in her liver. The dull pain pushed at her ribs on her right side.

“Fuck that shit! What mistake?” Dandelion noted the outburst, reckoned it a wise expression and smiled to herself as she watched Coyote. It was his move. Bel stepped away from the thin layer of pastry turned her attention to the jar walked the dozen paces and reached for the gloves hanging from a long sausage shaped mylar pillow case at the opposite end of the marble counter. Boxing gloves and a punching bag were part of the Efficiency Package factored into the floor plan of Camille’s Classic Community Kitchen. ‘Separating the dross from the goodies’ was one of the Essential Factors for Food, and the foundation for Bel’s plan to becoming infamous. (to be continued ...)

৩

AN INVITATION: 

If you are curious and interested in this unfolding myth, I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far. There are bits of this tale that flourish from the real life challenges Pete and I bump into on any given day. The chemical poisioning in the water inspires RIPE. I know in my bones there are people out there to help write this myth for (our) tale bones. I will be personalizing my outreach plans to draw those folks in. It could be a fun and future time of radical practical magic! In the coming weeks RIPE will have its own place to grow. I've woven a tale here that started with pictures and recipes of the food I really cook from a porch kitchen no bigger than a large shoebox. What happens in small spaces could not have been what I imagined when I was a woman traveling in planes. 

How much space, how much stuff, how much of a 'house' is necessary to be plenty enough. Not as much as I used to think.And you? How are you answering those questions these days?

Mahalos ... 

Mahalo nui, thank you so much, Maurine and S.R. for the generous tip and the card you sent to keep us up to date with your travels.

Mahalo plenty to Jen and Kawika for keeping us current with the goings with our Calizar 'ohana on O'ahu. Congratulations to Kalani and Hau'oli, and we look forward to the newest Calizar keiki in the making Kawika and Richie.

Mahalo nui Donnette for the Indigenous Regalia (that's the pouch of a bag with safety pins imprinted with the message, 'Stick together') ... I have come to consider essential to my adventures close to home.

Mahalo Pushkara for the big bag of King Apples and the quick but juicy chat between squalls at the Bunny Campground.

Mahalo nui to La Espiritista  for the life-transforming experience of being with you at Indigenous Day, October 12th at the Burke Museum. We will purchase your newly published book, and have sent a prayer of intention to grow connection with you and your inspiring life.

Mahalo to Linda E. for the soul warming message and surprising appearance in the library yesterday. This is the sort of thing that keeps me going.

Mahalo to Joan B. for the surprise treat of neighborly conversation and a lunch soup on her at the Commons.

Mahalo to Christine for another lunch time soup experience at St. Hubert's Wednesday soup kitchen. Wonderful conversation building on the long ago first meeting with her when Pete and I first moved into Langley ten years ago.

Hugs to Pete, who shares and endures the intensity of this life in and from a wagon home ... thank you for riding the ups and downs and teaching me to channel restlessness in many unexpected ways. And, the new 'skirt' of aluminum you're cutting and screwing into place along the edge of the vardo will make Winter more comfortable. Thank you, Honey.

If this post provokes you in your definitions of plenty, enough, restlessness, stability, or just makes you wonder about the world you imagine consider sending me a tip, or a love gift to keep these ramblings showing up.The process for the give and take of Posts-for-Pay is described here. 

I truly appreciate you being here. Mahalo! The world is filled with many, many options for reading and as the pages of The Velocity for Being, and the words and poetry of La Espiritista transforms my senses the myths for our tale bones are potent. Feel for them. Hear them with your every foot step. 

Now do something terrific, unpredictable or long-imagined and tell us about it here or in an email.

Much aloha,

Mokihana