The Pleasure of Provision

The uncharacteristically cold and wet January weather in Brisbane has had me confined to indoor pursuits this week, and as per usual when the clouds descend and the showers are frequent, my mind has folded in on itself and is content to find pleasure in the most domestic of pursuits, and meaning in those places that are often overlooked on sunny days.
When I wake to the day and hear rain already falling on my roof I long to linger between the sheets, but something deeper inside me wants to patter out to the kitchen and create some warmth and welcome the morning. Today has been one such day, a Sunday morning sky filled with grey clouds, a chill on my nose when woke to my alarm clock, and an idea in my brain to make breakfast for Mum and Dad.

The gentle scent of cinnamon, nutmeg and roasted apple wafted out of the oven as I paused a moment to reflect over the last few days, and the meals that I have made; some nights just for Mum and Dad and I and on Friday evening a feast for friends. The other thought that popped into my mind was a comment from the librarian as I picked up a stack of cookbooks to read over the weekend; "you're going to be busy with all that cooking, better you than me".
I think she missed my point when I merely smiled and replied "It brings me joy."
To me, cooking is more than the mere preparation of fuel for the body.
Imagining something my family and friends will love, selecting the highest quality ingredients I can find, chopping, stirring, simmering and plating in the creation of a meal are all exercises in joy for my soul. They are a moving meditation.
I call it the pleasure of provision. When I am engaged in providing something for my family, whether it is food, or making the house tidy before they come home, or just making Mum a cup of tea while she works on something; I feel warmer inside, I feel that these ordinary days have some deeper meaning, some connection to who I want to be as a person, the life I want to lead, and the things that are most important to me.

One of those things that is most important to me is to be giving to others, to provide for my family, to have something to offer when we all sit at the table. Making a meal, or a treat, to share amongst companions is a physical manifestation of the love and care we share at a deeper level. These plates I fill are only symbols of the hearts that I hope to touch everyday, and the places I hope my love nests itself, ready to nourish when it is needed most.

Roasted Apple and Oat Muffins
You will need to prepare the oat and milk mixture the day before. If you forget to do so never fear, you can just add them as separate ingredients, the oats will just be crunchier than if they were soaked.


Ingredients
1 cup of oats
1 cup of wholemeal plain flour
1/2 cup of brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
2 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup low fat milk
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 large egg
1 apple, quartered and sliced thinly

Method:

1. The night before you wish to cook the muffins measure the milk into a jug and add one half cup of the oats. Allow the mixture to soak overnight in the fridge.
2. The next morning, preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius. 
3. While you prepare the rest of the mixture and the oven heats spread the sliced apple across a lined baking sheet and roast in the oven for about 15 minutes or until softened. 
4. Spray a 12 hole muffin pan with oil.
5. In a large bowl mix together the remaining half cup of oats, wholemeal flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and nutmeg.
6. In the jug with the overnight oat and milk mixture add the olive oil, vanilla and egg. Beat together.
7. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir gently, before it is fully combined add the sugar and mix until just combined.
8. Spoon batter into prepared pan and top with a few slices of the baked apple.
9. Bake muffins for 12 - 15 minutes or until tops spring back when lightly touched.
10. Allow to cool for a few minutes in the pan and then remove while still slightly warm. Serve the muffins with butter and jam or enjoy on their own.

These muffins go beautifully with a steaming cup of English breakfast tea and some chunky raspberry jam. Especially on a rainy Sunday morning with those you love.

Being " In Spite Of "

One of my worst personality traits is procrastination. If something can wait until tomorrow, you can be sure that it will take it's place in the 'pending' file on my desk for a decent period of time.

My delay tactics are one part of myself that I truly do not enjoy and would dearly love to work on improving.

I have certainly improved since my university days of leaving assignments until 3am in the morning of the day that they were due, but still something is holding me back and building a road block to consistent action in some areas of my life.

The main areas where I face issues with putting my life on hold tend to be about taking chances that may lead to permanent changes and potentially lasting failure. In other words, how do I take steps to make my dreams for the future come true? How do I start doing the work to build my future?

Why am I afraid?

Thus, I turned to my on-call therapist (Google) to find out a little more about procrastination, and where this could be stemming from, and what I could do to shift my life out of the 'pending' folder and into the 'active' file!

A search in Psychology Today turned up  a definition for procrastination as 'the gap between intention and action', and over 900 articles dealing with this topic.

So, I guess dealing with this undesirable habit is going to take a little while, huh?

I am willing to put in the work. I am capable of delving into whatever quiet and dusty corners of my soul are building plaque and stopping the flow of my future.

One quote that I really like from an article on the Psychology Today website states:

"For chronic procrastination that stems from a deep sense of meaninglessness in life, "being in spite of" defines the existentialist's "therapy." In spite of feeling overwhelmed by the task at hand, in spite of not feeling like doing it, in spite of fearing failure, in spite of seeing little value in a necessary task, the answer is courage to persist and continue. This choice will define you, just as the choice not to persist, to needlessly delay has already defined you through procrastination"

My first step to dissolve the block of fear in my way is to 'be in spite of'. In some ways I have put this into action in my life already; regardless of being afraid of rejection, or of discovering that I don't make any sense when I string words together, I started writing this blog. When I found that putting my thoughts out there fed part of my soul and that people were reading what I had to say; I kept going, and it motivated me to enrol in post graduate study this year. Achieving some small successes by just 'being in spite of' my fear motivated me to persevere in this area of my life. Whenever I have had the best adventures while travelling, it has been because I have taken a chance 'in spite of' not knowing where the road could lead, 'in spite of' being far away from home, 'in spite of' potentially not speaking the language or getting lost. Every time I have taken these little risks, the road not yet trod by my feet, I have uncovered another puzzle piece of who Amy is, learnt more about myself. I need to take this lesson of 'being in spite of' and apply it to the risks and growth I need to make my happily ever after a reality.

Tell me, dear readers, are you a procrastinator or a doer? How do you shift yourself into gear? What have you learnt, just by 'being in spite of'?

Unseen Ripples

In the course of our lives we meet more people than we can keep track of.
In just a day we come into contact, however brief, with countless lives other than our own.
There is an exchange in every one of these encounters; be it a smile, a nod of the head, two words at the supermarket check out.
Our lives briefly touch someone else's, then we move on with our day. Perhaps never to meet again.
Sometimes these brief exchanges can mean more to someone than we know.
Sometimes they can save a life.
I am so fortunate in my job that I come into contact with very inspiring, wonderful people. I am so fortunate that I get to be a player in their lives for a brief amount of time.
It is very easy to measure the clinical outcomes of these relationships.
It is harder to measure the true wellness outcomes of our partnerships.
I was told today by someone that had it not been for our time together that they were not sure where they would be in their lives, their marriage, their friendships.
I was told that I had made a positive difference, that the universe had thrown us together at the right time. Two souls who just clicked. Two positives that equalled a positive change.
I cannot claim the reward of being responsible for the hard work she has put in to making changes in her life.
All I can say is.
Pay it forward. Be kind to strangers. Smile at everyone you meet. Offer a hand.
You never know what the cost of the smallest gesture will mean in the currency of someone else's life.
There are ripples we don't see when we toss a rock into a pond.

Multitasking? Take a Moment.

We are a society of multitaskers; proud when we can cleave a second into its millis and cram each one full of tasks to accomplish simultaneously.
We read and answer emails while we run or walk or cycle or cross train.
Take phone calls while we drive, at the same time planning dinner and questioning what to wear to brunch on the weekend.
Eat our breakfast while making family member's lunches, feeding the cat and packing school bags.
We overlay our lives with coatings of to do lists and check boxes.
Make a day only seem worthwhile if every moment is filled with accomplishments, stresses, and further goals.

I too am guilty of this.
Only recently I found myself sticking my earphones in while I took the ten minute walk from my car park to my office. I strode up the hills and wound my way through the back streets until I reached my office with no recollection of how I had gotten there.
Had the agapanthus finally blossomed along the pretty picket fence one street over?
Was the grey cat sunbathing in the driveway again, peering at me with his tawny eyes?
Were the mock-orange trees still perfuming the air with their tiny star shaped white flowers?
I had no idea.
I had been listening to some music, writing a note and focusing on whether I should really expose my feet to the sighted world now that they were emerging from a winter spent in hiding and might possibly blind innocent bystanders.
When I went to walk back to my car that afternoon I left my iPod in my bag. I listened to the birds chatter in the warm afternoon sun. I stopped to take a photo of some pretty blooms that made me smile. I scuttled away from the bougainvillea bush when I heard rustling underneath and saw a scaled tail disappearing into the under brush.
I arrived back at my car feeling refreshed, quiet inside, ready and happy to go home and do a little more work and enjoy dinner with my family, see my boyfriend on Skype.
I realised that sometimes you just need to turn off the noise. Just let the world exist for a moment without trying to interact with it, without trying to change it, organise it, get ahead in it, reply to it.
Just take a moment to let your mind breathe.
Multitask some meditation, some quiet time into your day.
Couple it with some breathing, a few smiles, and some random happy thoughts.
Just take a moment to be in the world, be in yourself.
Just take a moment.

A Change of Season

Every September the whole of Brisbane turns a brilliant shade of purple as Jacaranda trees blossom; heralding the start of spring. Ever since I was a little girl I have loved these trees, and every time I pass them now I am taken back to afternoons in my childhood where the blooming Jacarandas sent the message that the summer school holidays were not far away. I spent many lunch times in high school seated under a particular Jacaranda, laughing with my friends, sharing tales and secrets, and enjoying the strengthening spring sunshine. When I had graduated and my sister had moved into high school, she and her friends sat under the same tree; Jacarandas are to me a little piece of growing memory, living history, that comes back to me every spring.

Perhaps these lilac tinted memories are part of the reason that spring is my favourite season of the year. Yes, I love the long days of summer and the heat and humidity that soak into every pore as the sun practically beats the earth into molten copper some days. The relief of autumn is always welcome as the days grow shorter and food more hearty, and winter nights snuggled in my bed with a cup of tea and a book feed the soul during a time of hibernation.

But that first bloom of spring; the whisper that starts in a corner of the garden and spreads rapidly until it is a chorus of colour and scent throughout the garden, the street, the city; that is where my joy lies.
If you stand quietly in the garden at this time of year, you can nearly hear the earth waking from her winter slumber, look closely and you can see daily progress in the leaves and flowers that celebrate the longer sunlit hours, and breath deeply of the life that seems to fragrance the air along with the flowers.
Let yourself feel lighter. Take a message from the trees, and the flowers and let yourself blossom.
Come into the sunshine.

Sorry I Couldn't Help But Overhear...

"You know I've never liked my belly, even my daughter said something about it the other day." said the first lady.

"It's my thighs for me. Look at these!" Replied her friend.

"And, my arms, I shouldn't wear sleeveless tops anymore they're so bad." Continued the first voice.

"I know what you mean. I've definitely got some bingo wings happening here." Her friend agreed.

"Then there's...." The first lady nodded and started again.

This is the point where I stick my earphones back in and turn up my iPod to drown out the conversation occurring on the treadmills next to mine.

Yet even though I can't hear them, their words stick with me as I run, and I long to say something, actually several somethings. Knowing that turning to two complete strangers at 5:30 in the morning and starting a conversation about their negative body chat would probably not be welcomed I will instead turn to all of you.

Let's have a little chat about body talk.

I must precede this by stating that I am in no way perfect in my own body talk. However, I think that in this case that allows me to comment as I walk the same path as every other mirror owning person who wakes up some days and sees something in their reflection that isn't quite what they had hoped for. I must also say that I am working hard at recognizing when I am being negative, and trying to turn these thoughts around.

There are times when I look in the mirror (or any reflective surface that is handy) and scrutinize what I see before me, usually some sort of conversation then starts in my head, directed at my body. Depending on how the day has gone the talk might sound something like this:

'Gee, need to work harder on that upper body strength. Better wear a cardigan to work today, those arms are not fit for public consumption.'

'Pencil skirt not an option today, that belly is way too bloated.'

And so on...

Of course there are good days as well.

'Damn chickpea! That run on the weekend made your legs look good! Definitely wear that shorter skirt today.'

One of the first times I really paid attention to how I spoke about my body around others took place when I was driving a friend to the airport and had my 12 year old cousin in the back seat. My friend started to complain about the size of her thighs or behind, and I then made a comment about being larger than my sister.

Then out of the mouth of the babe in the backseat came the comment.

'But you are probably a lot stronger than Jess then, aren't you?'

This one little comment made me stop, close my mouth and really think.

I realized that I didn't want my cousin to grow up in a world where women thought it was okay to have negative body talk as a common topic of conversation.

I wanted her to celebrate her body. Whatever shape she grew up to be, I wanted her to be happy with the way the universe made her and to realize the gift of having a body capable of moving and running and dancing and adventuring.

In fact, I wanted that for me too.

From that point on whenever I looked at a body part in despair I tried to turn around the message that the evil little voice in my head was trying to broadcast.

I am thankful for having a body with all its pieces in working order. Sure, it might not be the most coordinated order, but it works for me.

I am grateful to have two arms that even though they will never resemble Michelle Obama's in anyway whatsoever, allow me to beat cream for a batch of scones on a Sunday afternoon, or cream butter and sugar for cupcakes, to hug the ones I love so tightly that they know how my heart beats for them, to lift tonnes of books when I go to the library and can't just pick one.

I am grateful for a (definitely not Gwen Stefani) tummy, that has never known true hunger, that celebrates every meal (and meal between meal) with little gurgles of delight, that feels deliciously warm when I lie on the beach in a bikini, that hurts in a good way after a really big laugh, or becomes a favourite place for a dog to rest their head when I lie on the floor.

I am grateful for my never-gonna-be-a-Moulin-Rouge-dancer thighs because they get me through half marathons, can do a decent version of 'The Twist' with my Mum and sister in the lounge room, help me climb mountains or grip on the back of a motorbike, and form a lap for a cat to find warmth on a winter's night.

This body is my page to write the story of my life upon. Every bump and scratch, wrinkle and scar, tells part of the tale of the person that I am today.

Scars on my hands say I have cooked good meals and made people smile with food we have shared.

Wrinkles on my face have been formed by laughing and late nights studying.

Bumps and bruises on my legs tell me that I have been running and dancing and that I'm not ready to slow down anytime soon.

Every story, every moment that I have had the pleasure of living has been witnessed by this body.

I have been carried through the bad times by this body.

I have danced, laughing and twirling, through the good times in this body.

Why shouldn't I show it the love and respect that it deserves after over twenty (pretty awesome) years?

There is no reason.

I am grateful. I am learning to tell my body how grateful I am that it works so wonderfully and how much I love it everyday.

So tonight, or tomorrow morning, or whenever you pass by a mirror next and start to tear your body down with bad words; please stop.

Stop and turn that thought around.

Tell your belly how thankful you are that it bore children.

Tell your thighs how thankful you are that they walked the dog this morning in the stillness of the dawning day.

Tell your arms how thankful you are that you can hug your beloved.

Give your body back some of the love that it shows you everyday.

Kairos and a Cookie

In ancient Greece there were two words for time.
Chronos, which is the time we live by everyday, sequential time, something that can be counted by your lovely shiny watch.
The other, was Kairos; a time between time, that cannot be counted and in which something special happens.

Chronological time rules most of human existence, we schedule meetings, time for working out, eating, and nearly every other task.
Kairos, that time apart, is an effort to find, but a worthy pursuit.
I have written about everyday grace many times before, but Kairos is something a little more than that. It is more ritualistic, for some it is religious, but it does not have to be.
It is an endeavour to get to Kairos; we must create the right conditions, force ourselves into that time between time, still the clocks of Chronos that chime in our head all day. We must search for that quiet space inside ourselves where an undefined time swirls and feeds something inside us, sometimes deeper than we know.

Kairos might be a ritual we allow ourselves once per week, a moment alone in a pursuit that pleases us entirely, a space inside us that feeds our soul and does not answer to the tick of the clock. It could be a Saturday afternoon walk by yourself in the quiet. A glass of wine, a book and a cat curled up on your lap on Friday night when everyone else is out of the house.

Kairos can also be shared, a time for our family, friends, community of our hearts, to spend moments together forging connections that are based on deeper understanding and enjoyment that goes undefined, happiness felt, not spoken. A sushi lunch date with a friend once a week. Sunday morning pancakes with the family.

Kairos does not have to be scheduled, it can be spontaneous a one time ritual that still means so much. This afternoon the house was quiet, the day was wrapped in grey clouds and I was alone in the house with a batch of freshly baked cookies singing their siren song. I knew that there was a moment of Kairos waiting for me, I just needed to recognise it and grab the opportunity to nourish that part of myself that often gets forgotten in the everyday. I made it into my own afternoon ritual; I plunged some coffee, the bitter nutty smell promising something in the time beyond, picked out the cookie that most appealed to me with it's greedy chunks of chocolate still soft from the heat of the oven, and pushed my chair into the best position to view the deep green garden and soft woolly clouds. I settled myself, took a breath to clear the hands of time away and opened the doorway in my mind through which I access time between time. The coffee and chocolate melted together in harmony, more than just the sweet and bitter; they spoke to me of the work I had taken crafting the cookies, the beauty in waiting for them to bake, the treat of allowing myself an indulgence of both chocolate and time.

I recommend you find Kairos in your own life. Make time to access that place of no minutes or hours. By yourself, or with others. Take time for a little ritual. Place yourself between the hands of the clock where you can't see them move and find that something great beyond the chime of Chronos.

It's all about chunk to dough ratio!

Chocolate Chunk Spelt Cookies


Ingredients:
60g butter, softened
60g raw caster sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste
180g wholemeal spelt flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
75g dark chocolate chopped into chunks

Method:

1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius and line a cookie sheet with baking paper.
2. Cream butter and sugar until fluffy, then add vanilla and egg and beat to combine.
3. Add flour and baking powder and mix until incorporated. The mixture might be a little stiff but keep working at it, the pay off is worth it!
4. Add chopped chocolate and mix through batter.
5. Roll tablespoons of mixture into balls and place evenly spaced apart on the lined cookie sheet.
6. Cook for about 15 minutes and then remove to cool on a wire rack.
7. Enjoy, in a moment of Kairos.

Learning to Balance

Today I woke up to this:

Even though seeing this meant that I was up before most of the neighbourhood I felt so blessed to be able to witness the glory of nature before the noise and stress of the world started. These are the moments that carry us through the rest of of the day and bring us the quiet that we need to remember when the white noise of our daily schedules becomes a roaring tide.

Today I also learnt a lesson in balance. I admit that this is somewhat of a daily battle for me as I may not be a perfectionist in many areas but when it comes to my fitness and healthy eating I struggle to give myself some slack sometimes. This afternoon I was very excited to attend a boxing class, I felt the need for some change as I am currently about to start training for a half marathon and have been running as my main form of exercise for quite some time. The class was fantastic! I felt really released at the end of it, all my frustration from the day had melted away. I then headed to the treadmill to go for a run, but I knew five minutes in that I didn't have the energy left for my usual run so I opted to turn off the machine and go home for dinner. In the past I would have been so disappointed in myself for not pushing through and doing the run. Today I gave myself permission to go home and be proud of the class I had finished and to know that I will go running again tomorrow, to celebrate the fact that I had exercised and enjoyed it and to remember that life is all about the balance between rest and action.