All you can do is this: Whatever you experience, whether tangible or intangible, look underneath the experience, like a child looking for a lizard under a stone. You’re not expecting anything to be there, but you’re always wondering if there might be.
~ Richard Leviton
Whatever I’m doing, I’m in that moment and I’m doing it. The rest of the world’s lost. If I’m cooking some food or making soup, I want it to be lovely. If not, what’s the point of doing it?
~ Sade Adu
I have to warn you before you continue that if you don’t care for salty language, you will not want to read the recipe for this soup. It’s been adjusted (censored) somewhat, but there’s no doubt about the words being used.
Now that I’ve got the disclaimer out of the way… For this week’s soup, I used a recipe from The Thug Kitchen cookbook. It’s one of my favorite vegan cookbooks because, frankly, the salty language peppered throughout makes me laugh. I’m childish that way. The recipes are fantastic, too. Everything I’ve made from Thug Kitchen has been delicious.
Today I made their Warm The F*ck Up Minestrone. Normally I would not follow a recipe for minestrone soup. It is a clean-out-the-fridge type of soup that I intuitively make based on what is available and what needs to be cooked. However, one of the purposes of this exercise in Sunday soup making is to use the recipes I have on hand. The Thug Kitchen minestrone is seasoned differently than mine and I have to tell ya, it’s wonderful. I used fresh rosemary from my garden, and frozen basil from last year’s vegetable garden. The recipe calls for cabbage or kale. I had both and they needed to be cooked so in the pot they went. I also added a sweet potato which is not on the list of ingredients. It’s minestrone. There are no rules.
If you’d like to try your hand and soup pot at this recipe, you can find it here. If you do try it, let me know what you think.
There is no less holiness at this time – as you are reading this – than there was on the day the Red Sea parted, or that day in the 30th year, in the 4th month, on the 5th day of the month as Ezekiel was a captive by the river Cheban, when the heavens opened and he saw visions of god. There is no whit less enlightenment under the tree at the end of your street than there was under Buddha’s bo tree. In any instant the sacred may wipe you with its finger. In any instant the bush may flare, your feet may rise, or you may see a bunch of souls in trees.
~ Annie Dillard, For the Time Being
To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is itself to succumb to the violence of our times.
All our time disappears on us. This is an incredible fact. You are so knitted into a day. You are within it; the day is as close as your skin. It is around your eyes; it is inside your mind. The day moves you, often it can weigh you down; or again it can raise you up. Yet the amazing fact is, this day vanishes. When you look behind you, you do not see your past standing there in a series of day shapes. You cannot wander back through the gallery of your past. Your days have disappeared silently and forever. Your future time has not arrived yet. The only ground of time is the present moment.
In our culture, we place a great and worthy emphasis on the importance and sacredness of experience. In other words, what you think, believe, or feel remains a fantasy if it does not actually become part of the fabric of your experience. Experience is the touchstone of verification, credibility, and deep intimacy. Yet the future of every experience is its disappearance. This raises a fascinating question: Is there a place where our vanished days secretly gather?
~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara
We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.
~ Maya Angelou
…a walk is only a step away from a story, and every path tells.
~ Robert Macfarlane