Turning Point

“Turning Point” by Rainer Maria Rilke

The road from intensity to greatness passes through sacrifice. —– Kassner

For a long time he attained it in looking.
Stars would fall to their knees
beneath his compelling vision.
Or as he looked on, kneeling,
his urgency’s fragrance
tired out a god until
it smiled at him in its sleep.

Towers he would gaze at so
that they were terrified:
building them up again, suddenly, in an instant!
But how often the landscape,
overburdened by day,
came to rest in his silent awareness, at nightfall.

Animals trusted him, stepped
into his open look, gazing,
and the imprisoned lions
stared in as if into an incomprehensible freedom;
birds, as it felt them, flew headlong
through it; and flowers, as enormous
as they are to children, gazed back
into it, on and on.

And the rumor that there was someone
who knew how to look,
stirred those less
visible creatures:
stirred the women.

Looking how long?
For how long now, deeply deprived,
beseeching in the depths of his glance?

When he, whose vocation was Waiting, sat far from home —-
the hotel’s distracted unnoticing bedroom
moody around him, and in the avoided mirror
once more the room, and later
from the tormenting bed
once more:
then in the air the voices
discussed, beyond comprehension,
his heart, which could still be felt;
debated what through the painfully buried body
could somehow be felt — his heart;
debated and passed their judgement:
that it did not have love.

(And denied him further communions.)

For there is a boundary to looking.
And the world that is looked at so deeply
wants to flourish in love.

Work of the eyes is done, now
go and do heart-work
on all the images imprisoned with you; for you
overpowered them: but even now you don’t know them.
Learn, inner man, to look on your inner woman,
the one attained from a thousand
natures, the merely attained but
not yet beloved form.

TTMMH: 12.7.11

— yes! magazine.  I’m presently reading it.  Interviewed in current issue:  U.S. poet laureate W.S. Merwin. His statement challenges me:

 “I think that as a species we’re in a very dangerous place.  I’m not optimistic about it at all.  I think it’s because of an attitude we’ve got which is deeply ingrained, which is that we have some right to treat all the rest of life just the way it suits us and throw it away when it doesn’t profit us at all.  I don’t think that’s realistic.  I don’t think that’s true.

“I think that the thing that distinguishes the human species is the imagination — the ability to imagine people suffering in Darfur, and the whales dying in the Pacific, and the little girl getting a prize in China for playing a piece of Mozart.  These don’t touch on us immediately, this afternoon, but they do.

“I thought I’d like to get a chance to say that.  I’d like to say it once, and then be quiet about it.”

— Comics of Corinne Mucha and K. Beaton (found at Quimby’s!). This is my favorite tee of Beaton.

— Unrefined Grapeseed Oil for face moisturizer.

— Snail Mail.  My friends Amanda + Isaac and I have been communicating weekly via handwritten letters.  It has been so fun to anxiously await their answers, knowing they’ll respond.

— Laloo’s Chocolate Goat Milk Ice Cream.  It’s so. creamy.  I love it more than “normal ice cream.”  Try it.

— Weekly Skype dates with my friend Kait, living outside of Tokyo.  Thank you, Technology, for helping me keep my dear friend close (and our book discussions alive!).

In the kitchen::

It’s a week of baking… 
– Cinnamon chip scones
– Plum and apple tarts
– Lemon Rosemary Olive Oil cupcakes

TTMMH: 12.4.11

My life has been so transitory and in flux that no theme arises for the blog’s present life.  So to give you a peek into my life, I’ll give you a list of my present favorite things.  Things that make me happy.

— “Give Me the Greens” Juice from my juice bar.  It’s apple, beet, lemon, swiss chard, kale and tatsoi.  Yummmm….

— Toni’s Patisserie and Cafe on Madison.  It’s like walking into a fancy French cafe and pastry shop.  Last week I sat in the window with a doppio and a shortbread cookie, writing about life and having some much-needed think time.

— Quimby’s bookshop on W. North Ave.  How have I lived in Chicago for seven years and never been there?  I think it makes my Top 10 Places list.  I bought a children’s book (for myself, of course) titled To Market, To Market.

— 2 Sparrows.  A new brunch/lunch hotspot at Clark and Diversey.  The lamb sausage gravy and biscuits, and foie gras and sour cherry poptart are delectable (although, I want more foie gras in my poptart!).  My favorite was their maple syrup bacon donut. That and a perfectly brewed cup of Metropolis coffee… I was in heaven.

— Los rojos de ultramar by Jordi Soler.  A novel written some Catalans’ migration to Mexico during the terror of Franco. It relocates me in my interests in forced migration, cultural identity issues, and Spanish/Latin American history.  On top of it all, Soler is a fabulous writer.

— Roasted Pumpkin.  I’ve been roasting pumpkins and then going wild with puree: pumpkin breads, cookies, soups (with sage and Italian sausage… so good.), pancakes and pies.

— Worms!  I finally have my own worms. Underneath my sink.  They are going to compost my food and make beautiful soil.  I am so. excited.  What does it say about me that having worms is the best thing about having my own landing space?

Recent Menu:

— Stuffed acorn squash – apples, shitake, sage, onion

— Triple “S” Farm’s pork chops, rubbed with friend-grown thyme, pan-seared in homemade sage butter.

Tarts and Tarts

There is so much and sometimes seemingly so little to say.  I owe a life update – a schedule update – it will explain what paths my mind most often wanders, to what activities I dedicate my time in this season…

Since early August, I’ve been working three new jobs – all food related.  None offered full time work, so I’ve pieced things together to “pay the bills.” While none of them will lead to a career, I wanted to position myself to learn as much as possible about the food scene in Chicago, to network, to have time to explore urban agriculture during my daytime hours.

On Sundays, I work a farmers’ market for a boutique food store.  The storefront in downtown Chicago coordinates with over 20 local farmers and food producers to provide the freshest, most delectable produce and items.  I’ve loved the market – being outside and talking to suburbanites about crazy produce – a blast. I’ve convinced more BMW drivers to buy cranberry beans and ground cherries… *laugh.  All of the staff are “produce nerds” so we try to introduce new foods each week.

The other six days of the week, I cook at a “farm to fork” restaurant and work at a health foods store.  It’s been fun to integrate all my food-knowledge – learning how things impact our bodies, how to cook and present beautiful food, how to case sausages… (!!)  It’s been great.

As you can now imagine, I think about food quite a bit.  My recent home ventures have included tarts and tabouleh and French-style braised chicken…

Savory tart -- thyme and wheat pastry dough crust. Filled with Purple Rain carrots, Tropea Onions and thyme from a friend's garden.

Italian Plum Tarts... With a cookie-tart type of dough.

Bruschetta! My final locally-grown heirloom tomatoes of the season... and basil from my containers!

“You win the big prize!”

I cannot cheat you of my highlight of August. Last Thursday I met a friend for frozen custard and a walk. My friend is a strikingly beautiful and elegant woman, with a more formal air than I, who wears dresses with an ease and grace that I find a bit divine, and, were you to meet her, you would feel that you would lose to her in any argument or intellectual dispute. Erna. What a gem.

So Erna and I are strolling down tree-lined streets when a little kid – about 6 – runs up to us: “Do you want to play a carnival game?!”

I had expected him to offer lemonade from his front porch (you know how I love L. Stands) so I was a bit thrown off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you well. Excuse me?”

“I made a carnival game! Want to play? It’s 10 shots for one dollar, or 25 shots for two dollars!”

I look over and see this setup: a cardboard box with a blue plastic cup Scotch-taped on top. Across the walkway, a pillow and Superman blanket lie on the ground. Resting on Superman’s cape, the gun of Toy Story’s Woody. My nonviolent streak nudges me but I ignore it. What an opportunity! There is a problem though. After custard, my pocket held only 68 cents. “What can I get for fifty cents?”

“I’ll give you five shots.”

Game on. “How do I play?”

The kid throws himself, stomach down, onto the blanket and props his elbows on the pillow in sniper-like position. “You have to hit the cup. If you get it in the cup, you get a big prize. If you just kinda hit it, you get a little prize.”

I am absolutely delighted. (Why do I feel like I’m in my element on carnival games in front yards?) I turn to my more proper friend, ask her to hold my sour cherry custard, and apologize for my impending actions. I throw myself onto his pillow, aim, and try to fire. Nothing happens. The kid yells, “You have to cock it.” But of course. I don’t know the first thing about shooting a plastic Toy Story dart gun.

I take two shots. Way over the cup.

I realize I don’t know this kid’s name. I take a Time Out, stand up, introduce myself, and we shake hands. Joey. At this moment, Joey’s 3-year-old little brother steps out from behind the screen door to offer shooting advice. Aim for the top of the cup.

Got it.

Shots #3 and #4 go way under. Joey and bro yell encouraging remarks. Erna looks on and giggles. In my competitive [at times sore loser] way, I don’t aim at all, fire Shot #5, and assume I miss.

Until I hear Joey: “You win the big prize!! You win the big prize!!” I had hit a bull’s-eye. No way.

I bound out of sniper position, raise my arms in victory, and follow Joey up the steps. “Your prizes! You get a Pokemon card!” (Awesome. It’s worn and the edges are soft.) “And a foreign coin!” (Costa Rica. 5 Colones.) “AND… three shark teeth!!”
No. way. I can’t believe my eyes. What a stash! What treasure! I mean, I was thrilled with the card and coin. But shark teeth?? I am tickled beyond description. All rough patches from the month — instantly annihilated.

I shake Joey’s hand, wave at Lil’ Bro, express more gratitude than anyone would believe to be truly genuine, and turn back towards Erna and my melting custard.

We return to our walk. To our chat. To our custard. But I can’t stop giggling. I won the big prize! Shark teeth! For firing a dart gun from a Superman blanket like sniper while taking shooting tips from a 3-year-old.

I feel like a winner at Life. Even five days later.

Today’s menu:
* Tomato Soup with Growing Power tomatoes and Genesis Growers’ Tropea Onions
* Tabbouleh featuring Green Acres’ heirloom tomatoes, Genesis’ cucumbers, Tropea Onions and beautiful Purple Haze carrots
* Classic Hummus

Travel Highlights – long overdue

This gallery contains 21 photos.

This is long. I warn you. Skim through the headings of places/click on highlighted words for photos or don’t read any of it… Have at it. (ha!) It was fun to recap it all for myself… Welcome to my life … Continue reading →

The end of travel season.

In the Spanish language, reunited friends greet each other warmly with “Tanto tiempo!”  Translation: “It’s been so long!”

Tanto tiempo!

I’m back.  I’m landed.  What an incredible contract job – what a whirlwind of four months. I have traveled 13 of the past 16 weeks to 12 separate states. As of Thursday evening, my job ended.

I chronicled my first few weeks.  It all fell apart during early May = my two-week stint in Lexington, KY.  I must tell you frankly, dear Reader, I neglected you and instead chose to invest in my bourbon education. (I was with fun coworkers! And a per diem.  Can you blame me?) Henceforth, my partners and I espoused a similar zest for exploration and – viola – merrymaking filled all off-the-clock hours.

Since Miami, OK, I have been to the following places:

Lexington, KY. Leopold, IN. Posen, MI. Newark, DE.  Baltimore, MD.  Toledo, OH.  Bronx, NY. Cudahy, WI. And, the uneventful finale: Dallas, TX.

In the greater scheme, I’ve been living from suitcases since May 2010.  Fourteen months of travel.  Phew. When I decided to leave my paralegal position and explore the world, to move and be outside, my travels were open-ended.  By the end of 2010, I knew I wanted to be in the States, but wanted to continue traveling to better know the U.S.  I believe I blogged in early December about my conscious choice to live in the States, to be “estadounidense” (a United States-ian).  In February, I landed a contract research gig that would jet me to a different state each week to collect data on access to fresh food and fitness opportunities for kids. Perfect. I could be ‘home’ in the country, in Chicago, and from there, see new parts of the U.S. – while contributing to the largest nationwide study ever conducted about childhood obesity. Great deal.

That said, it seems surreal that I can now use dresser drawers, hangers. I can buy ingredients to cook a week’s worth of meals. I can sleep in the same bed for longer than ten days. My “normal life” no longer includes hotel breakfasts (yay!) and Monday morning taxi rides to Midway. Last week I had a “stay-cation.” When I readied myself for my work week — packing my bag, cleaning out my refrigerator, calling a taxi for the morning, checking into my flight, etc. – I thought, “How weird that it became entirely normal and not exhausting to travel Mon.-Fri.” I fly, rent cars, check into hotels, and pack like a pro.

So begins my re-entry into Chicago life after 14 months of absence – having a home, looking for a job [again], shopping at markets, volunteering regularly, creating community, delighting in the constant details of staying in one place, relaxing in the beauty of the dear friends who have accompanied me long-distance for so long.

As a re-cap for myself, my next post will highlight my travels – should you be curious! Until soon.

-Megan-

Today’s menu:

• Zucchini chips
• Homemade hummus w/ harissa
• Vegetarian tagine
• Vanilla Greek yogurt with toasted hazelnuts

Javier Sicilia: Mexican Poet

Most of you know my burning curiosity – about everything! – and my love of learning.  Coding teleforms for 40 hours/week doesn’t quite quench my mind, so I’ve taken to reading the newspapers and making lists of things/people to research.  This morning I’ve looked at maps of Lampedusa, Italy, and Kandahar, Afghanistan.  I’ve learned about soft water and levees and Obama’s visit to the border in Texas this week.

My favorite lesson of the morning has to do with Mexican poet, Javier Sicilia. He has been in the recent news, as his son was killed in the violence in northern Mexico.  Sicilia has refused to write since his son died. I looked up his poetry and love it.  For you Spanish-speakers, I hope you enjoy:

Zazen
I
Sentirte, Amor, es contemplar el muro,
el muro blanco, limpio ante el que rezo,
espejo de la luz, desierto yeso,
cerrada claridad, confín más puro.

Sentado ante su luz el día es duro,
duro tiempo sin fin, vacío ileso,
donde el cuerpo extravía forma y peso
y ausente se contempla más seguro.

Yo me abro mi Amor a este vacío
en el que a solas soy blanco desierto,
espacio sin lugar y polvo yerto,

polvo de luz, ausencia ya sin brío.
Nada queda de mí que estoy abierto
sino esta claridad donde te espío.

II
Herido por tu luz ya nada espero
de mi cuerpo que es éxtasis del día,
polvo absuelto en la luz del mediodía,
paja seca quemada por Tu esmero;

es luz la suave tarde de este enero,
luz mi pan y la alcoba húmeda y fría,
mi mujer, la ciudad y la alegría
de mi alma que arde en tu brasero.

¿Qué puedo ya esperar si todo es fuego
que cotidianamente me calcina
y deja en lo más hondo su sosiego?

Todo en la vida es luz de tan amada,
sólo mi cuerpo es paja, leña y brizna
que consumido en luz es tierra, es nada.

From website: http://amediavoz.com/sicilia.htm

Take 4: “My-am-uh”, OK

May 2 – 6, 2011. Written May 6, 2011.

Today I left Miami, OK. It’s tucked into the NE corner, twenty minutes from Missouri, and close to Arkansas. After Eclectic’s natural beauty and laid-back style, nothing compares, so I don’t speak with as much wonder this week. (Although the brand new, white Chrysler 300 we drove was pretty solid. I felt under-dressed to drive it. We received many looks and compliments.) I had never been to any piece of Oklahoma and used the week to learn as much as possible about the NE corner. “My-am-uh” has become the headquarters for various Indian tribes including the Miami, Quawpaw, Ottawa and Modoc. I leave with many questions about interactions (or lack thereof) between these tribes and the US government. The sociologist in me wants to know the reasons for (and I know there is much research on the subject) the twelve casinos in the Miami area, their economic and social impacts for the local residents. I had never been to a casino so Marisol and I dipped into one on Wednesday after work. We walked through, gambled a few dollars, lost, and then… I got creeped out by the zombie-like people reclined, punching buttons and smoking cigarettes, so we quickly left. I think I’m okay never again visiting such a place.

The week in photos:

If you drive Route 66, you too will hang out in Miami.

Owners of best Miami BBQ: Smokin Odies. They are boo'ing the Bulls. We watched the Bulls/Hawks games here.

We took Thursday to sight see -- picnic'ing at the bottom of a this waterfall at Natural Falls State Park.

On our way through Arkansas to Joplin, MO, we stopped at an antique shop in Sulphur Springs. The sparkling owner, Karen, chatted with us for an hour, gifted us whatever piece we would like, and posed next to one of her favorite lamps. She is a gem.

Round 3: Eclectic, Alabama

April 25 – 29, 2011.

This week I spent in Alabama, working in a charming, beautiful southern town of Eclectic.  No, I would not use “eclectic” as an adjective for the town.  For the first time in my life, I use the word as a proper noun.  And I like it.

Eclectic is a tiny town about forty minutes west of Montgomery. With rolling hills, plentiful forests, and scattered of horse and cattle ranches, the spring green struck me as exuberant and luxuriant. You know how some sofa chairs seem so plush that you’re tempted to hurl yourself into them? As an overly sensory person this is the only image I can offer — I wanted to hurl

I spent my mornings driving down roads like this. Gorgeous, no?

myself into the glowing green of Alabama.  Dense, thickly sweet honeysuckle air only intensified my delight.

For the next month, I will travel and work with a young woman named Marisol, a Chicagoan by birth and of Mexican ethnicity.  We trade Argentine/Mexican slang and folklore. With a background in Environmental Policy, Marisol feeds my love of nature — gunning the gas to chase a hawk down a dirt road, pulling over to take photos of wildflowers, and shushing me to hear a bird’s song. I love it.

Highlights of the week:

– Teaching Marisol to taste honeysuckle.
– Taking afternoon ‘mate’ on rocking chairs we found in front of a family pharmacy.
– Daily frozen yogurt stops to appease another coworker also placed in Mongomery. I decided I like tart vanilla and anything berry.  With chocolate chips.
– Listening to country music all week to try to fit in – with windows down and country blaring, everyone still knew we were out-of-towners.
– Discovering Rick & Bubba’s radio talk show and listening to its conservative/fundamentalist antics for humor each morning.
– And… finally… On Tuesday, I received my first ever speeding ticket. ‘Bama backroads will getcha.  I couldn’t decide if I thought it was funny or depressing.

But Marisol, in all her gentle sweetness, suggested, “Megan, let’s pull over to this farmstand and buy your first bag of boiled peanuts.” That we did.  For the record, I am not a fan.

And, yes, we were in Montgomery for the tornados, which did not strike anywhere close to our hotel, but did greatly impact Eclectic. On Thursday, it felt too intimate to be there. The town lost residents and suffered much damage. Thoughts are with them…