from BARDO

The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.

Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made

is star-stuff too?


– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –

dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.


Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.


Roselle Angwin

Saturday 14 March 2020

from the ragbag: fear, islands of the heart, my new book, a recipe, & alder trees


Fear
I think almost all of us would rather have a certain outcome, even a challenging one, in most situations than live with uncertainty. Of course, being alive guarantees that the only thing that is certain, after mortality, is uncertainty. Various meditation practices, especially Zen, require that we face that, in order to free ourselves.


We live always in uncertain times. At the moment, it seems even more uncertain than ever on so many fronts, doesn't it? Our future might in part depend on our not being driven by fear: acting wisely, but without panic. We may not have much choice in what happens, but we can choose how we relate to it. Strength resides in that freedom.

And given the unknown aspects of the coronavirus situation, we've plenty of opportunities to practise. It's helpful to remember that fear has physiological and psychological impacts on us, and that protecting ourselves from these may be of benefit not only to ourselves and our wellbeing, but also to our community, panic being as contagious as it is (and having an impact on our immune system).


Isle of Iona
And so I raise the fact that a place has come up on my Iona retreats (due to the happy occurrence of an unexpected pregnancy in a participant from the States) knowing that, because of sensible fear, or panicky fear, or wisdom – who can know at the moment? – that place may not fill; indeed, there's a slim chance that the course may not happen. As things stand, I'm very much intending to be there – this will be my 20th year of leading retreats on this sacred island, and for me as well as for many of the participants this is the highlight of the year. (The photo above is dawn from the hotel window.)

I, like so many others, might be hit very hard if this virus takes hold. I've been making my way, and my living, in the arts for coming up for 40 years now, and often I haven't even made the minimum wage on an annual basis (though I have lived the life I want, following a star I believe in, that is hugely fulfilling). Cancelling my major income source for the year might be a death-knell to my work as course facilitator – but I also have to balance that, clearly, with awareness of the wellbeing of participants. So right now, like everyone else, I'm waiting to see what unfolds; knowing also that life takes us in unexpected directions which so often offer a new, exciting and fulfilling – if uncertain – way forward.




NEW BOOK: A Spell in the Forest
I'm so excited – or at least I was, until a glitch in the formatting meant I read 72,000 words about 20 times until I could no longer tell if those words in their particular combination were any good – that my new book, A Spell in the Forest – tongues in trees (rooted in the course of the same name) has been accepted for publication, and will emerge in about a year. The overall manager of the publishing house, and the managing director of the imprint, both said lovely things about it, which reassures me somewhat. The most amazing thing is that I had a positive response from them in just 3 days – very different from the 17 years that my first novel, Imago, took to find a home.


Vegan recipe
If you read this blog often, you will know that I'm 99% vegan (I do fall from grace on occasion). There is a good deal to say about a plant-based diet in relation to the environment, sustainable futures and minimising suffering, as well as feeding the world by freeing up land, but I'll desist for now (I'll be turning my attention to completing – or rather, properly starting – the cookbook I have been collating on all this soon).

For now, I just want to offer you a somewhat delicious vegan recipe of which I'm rather proud, but NB that it needs refining in terms of proportions, and I'll update this when I've had the chance to refine it.



If you are non-vegan and a fish-eater, you might want to consider cutting it down, or only buying line-caught or – better – catching your own. Here's an update on the plight of dolphins (no, not simply as a result of tuna-fishing, as most of us are already aware). I want to gently invite you to read this article.


Potato, leek and wild garlic non-dauphinoise


For 2
4 big or 5 medium potatoes, very finely sliced (you can use the slicer element on the side of a hand grater)
1 fat leek, finely sliced (or large courgette, or a good quantity of very finely chopped, or frozen, spinach)
1 handful of finely-chopped wild garlic (or two cloves)
a generous slosh of olive oil
2 heaped tablespoons of gram flour
3/4 - 1 mug of water
(possible) extra gram flour
salt, pepper
smoked paprika (optional)
yeast flakes 


Greens to serve alongside.

Over a medium heat, soften the potatoes, lidded in a big frying pan.
After about 10 minutes, add the veg and the seasoning (be generous with the salt).

Keep cooking for about 20 minutes, depending on the potato variety. They need to be pretty well cooked through before the next stage. 
Every so often, stir and turn over.
Put the grill on to a medium heat (I use about 170º C fan).
Very gradually stir the water into the gram flour until you have a mix that is roughly the consistency of thin school custard.
Gently pour it in. It needs to completely cover the veg mix (it will thicken). If it doesn't cover, make up more gram flour and water mix.
Sprinkle with yeast flakes.
When it's bubbling (be careful it doesn't burn; lower the heat if necessary), take off the stove top and put under the grill until golden-brown.





Tree of the Month
Many of you know about my Tongues in Trees work, and quite a few of you are walking alongside me in this Celtic-Tree-Calendar journey (link above, in the new-book section).

We are just about to move out of Ash ('Nion') month and into Alder ('Fearn'). Look out for these unassuming but quite powerful water-loving trees as they begin to leaf here in the northern hemisphere.  (My last blog included a picture of their beautiful catkins, out now.)

Mythologically, they can represent the masculine spirit in its protector mode. Think how that would change the future of both humanity and the other-than-human, if we rallied the protective rather than destructive masculine in all our psyches, and 'out there' too.


Meantime, here's to the emergence, in the northern hemisphere, of spring, and the return of the light – and the astonishing annual regreening of the earth. Already here we have birds feeding their first broods; an owl sends us to sleep, and a blackbird wakes us.





1 comment:

  1. Chris says:: 'Thank you Ro for your wise words. To behave with wisdom calmness and dignity will be the way forward in these times of uncertainties on so many fronts.

    'I am keeping my fingers crossed for Iona, all our calendars will bear a sorry space if it doesn’t go ahead. But wisdom will guide this decision.'

    ReplyDelete

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