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ofearthandstarsSometimes when I am walking in the evenings, I can spot a plane flying over in the ebbing light of the day. A speck of grey in indigo ink, it flares into a bright silver spark, its contrails a salmon pink that fade back into the evening sky, an illusion painted by the setting sun.
It's times like that I feel new all over again, a small child caught up in the beauty in a way that I've never seen it, and yet... in the way that I have seen it countless times. My god, we can fly! And I wonder about the passengers on the plane. Are they sleeping? Are they gazing out the window, watching the slow roll of soybeans and corn beneath them, the grey stain of the four-lane highway snaking over the hills? Are they wondering about me?
~o~
I've been laying low the past couple of days. I've been having a wonderful allergic reaction that has my entire body in a fuss - eczema flares, tightness in my chest/breath, the pain in my sinuses, and the incessant call of sleep. I wish that I could curl up in the bed and read. I'm reading Cat's Eye, because I've always loved everything I've ever read by Margaret Atwood, and when I went to the library this past week, this was the book with the rust-colored cloth cover, fraying along the edges, the spine scuffed, an old stain on the front. Nothing flashy - just old enough to be bound in a noble fashion, peeking out from behind the cellophane-wrapped thrillers and crumbling paper romances. It is like nothing of Atwood's that I have read before.
~o~
On Tuesday I made seitan cutlets and put them away in the freezer. It was a new recipe, and it's probably my favorite those far. It adds cannellini beans, which changes the texture of the seitan, and the broth I simmered them in was savory and rich. Making seitan is always a little funny - it doesn't roll like soft padding beneath your palms, as bread dough would do. It's spongy, slippery, and runs away from my fingers; when I catch it, it squeezes between my knuckles like a school science experiment.
Tonight I sautéd it with mushrooms in a savory wine sauce, and served it over wild rice.
It disturbs me, a little, how meat-like the dish looks. But it's warmth; life-affirming. I may not always make art, but I can make things that sustain us.
~o~
My head is bursting
with the joy of the unknown.
My heart is expanding a thousand fold.
Every cell,
taking wings,
flies about the world.
All seek separately
the many faces of my love.
- Rumi
♥
It's times like that I feel new all over again, a small child caught up in the beauty in a way that I've never seen it, and yet... in the way that I have seen it countless times. My god, we can fly! And I wonder about the passengers on the plane. Are they sleeping? Are they gazing out the window, watching the slow roll of soybeans and corn beneath them, the grey stain of the four-lane highway snaking over the hills? Are they wondering about me?
~o~
I've been laying low the past couple of days. I've been having a wonderful allergic reaction that has my entire body in a fuss - eczema flares, tightness in my chest/breath, the pain in my sinuses, and the incessant call of sleep. I wish that I could curl up in the bed and read. I'm reading Cat's Eye, because I've always loved everything I've ever read by Margaret Atwood, and when I went to the library this past week, this was the book with the rust-colored cloth cover, fraying along the edges, the spine scuffed, an old stain on the front. Nothing flashy - just old enough to be bound in a noble fashion, peeking out from behind the cellophane-wrapped thrillers and crumbling paper romances. It is like nothing of Atwood's that I have read before.
~o~
On Tuesday I made seitan cutlets and put them away in the freezer. It was a new recipe, and it's probably my favorite those far. It adds cannellini beans, which changes the texture of the seitan, and the broth I simmered them in was savory and rich. Making seitan is always a little funny - it doesn't roll like soft padding beneath your palms, as bread dough would do. It's spongy, slippery, and runs away from my fingers; when I catch it, it squeezes between my knuckles like a school science experiment.
Tonight I sautéd it with mushrooms in a savory wine sauce, and served it over wild rice.
It disturbs me, a little, how meat-like the dish looks. But it's warmth; life-affirming. I may not always make art, but I can make things that sustain us.
~o~
My head is bursting
with the joy of the unknown.
My heart is expanding a thousand fold.
Every cell,
taking wings,
flies about the world.
All seek separately
the many faces of my love.
- Rumi
♥
