What Will You Choose? (Feb. 2012)

Two of my friends moved recently. Both of them called me, independent of each other, to tell me that A) they have too much stuff; B) they feel immensely liberated as a result of purging much of their stuff; and C) they are committed to not mindlessly re-accumulating an excess of possessions.

Which is music, naturally, to my ears. But not just because I’m a professional organizer and want to help people de-clutter. Teaching people how to let go of too many things is often where I come on board, but what I really want is to teach people how to ride the Sidestepping Materialism train from much earlier in their journey. Imagine having not acquired all your stuff in the first place!

And yet our culture pushes us toward purchasing. Our economy depends upon ever-widening spirals of growth. (Wasn’t it Edward Abbey who said that “growth for growth’s sake is the ideology of a cancer cell”?) Our society is focused on production and profit, much more so than on relationship and sharing. Which means that, as a society, we value things over life and treat each other, our environment, and other living beings accordingly.

What if, instead of putting our life energy into accumulating possessions, we made our relationships our primary focus? What if we stopped buying all but the truly necessary (remembering that beauty is also necessary, as is joy) and gave our time, instead, to creating healthy relationships and healing the world around us? What if we stayed mindful of the urge to fill our emptiness, our longing for meaning and connection, with yet another acquisition and, instead, reached out to connect with another living being? What if we chose love over things?

Last month I wrote about pondering the meaning of life and what matters, as well as how to choose actions that will make the most positive difference. I continue to think about these matters, especially as people I love approach the end of their lives. And I continue to return to love – acts of love, not the abstraction of love – as being the most important guiding light. (Certainly, as we lie on our deathbed, our stuff isn’t what we look back on as having been important.)

Sometimes I think that love is the most revolutionary act of all.


Quotes of the Month

What if the point of life has nothing to do with the creation of an ever-expanding region of control? What if the point is not to keep at bay all those people, beings, objects, and emotions that we so needlessly fear? What if the point instead is to let go of that control? What if the point of life, the primary reason for existence, is to lie naked with your lover in the shady grove of trees? What if the point is to taste each other's sweat and feel the delicate pressure of finger on chest, thigh on thigh, lip on cheek? What if the point is to stop, then, in your slow movements together, and listen to birdsong, to watch dragonflies hover, to look at your lover's face, then up at the undersides of leaves moving together in the breeze? What if the point is to invite these others into your movement, to bring trees, wind, grass, dragonflies into your family and in so doing abandon any attempt to control them? What if the point all along has been to get along, to relate, and experience things on their own terms? What if the point is to feel joy when joyous, love when loving, anger when angry, thoughtful when full of thought? What if the point from the beginning has been to simply be?
– Derrick Jensen

In being with dying, we arrive at a natural crucible of what it means to love and be loved. And we can ask ourselves this: Knowing that death is inevitable, what is most precious today?
– Roshi Joan Halifax

“I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.
– Diane Ackerman

I am only so beautiful as the character of my relationships, only so rich as I enrich those around me, only so alive as I enliven those I greet.
– Derrick Jensen

Happiness is love, nothing else. A man who is capable of love is happy.
– Hermann Hesse


Recipe of the Month

Heart-Healthy Oat Bran Muffins

Combine
2-1/4 cups oat bran
1/4 cup flax meal (optional)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 cup sugar (or maple syrup)
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Beat in
1-1/4 cups milk
1 egg
2 overripe squirshed bananas
1 teaspoon vanilla

Add
Raisins, apples, blueberries, or blackberries
Walnuts or pecans could be nice, too…

Put in muffin tins lined with paper liners (they don't rise much, so go ahead and fill almost full)

Bake at 450 for approx. 15 minutes, until browned.

Makes one dozen muffins and a small loaf.

A Midweek Walk (May 2011)

“When before the beauty of a sunset or a mountain, you pause and exclaim, ‘Ah,’ you are participating in divinity.” -- Joseph Campbell


Thursday morning found me out near Whitethorn, a rural area in southwestern Humboldt County, with a few extra hours on my hands. I decided to explore a bit, see where the road went. After navigating my way to the end of the paved country highway and down a few miles of rutted dirt road, I found myself at Needle Rock, part of the Sinkyone Wilderness, where I parked the car and started walking north along the narrow trail. Oh my God – what beauty! The ocean was to my leftt. Conifer-covered hills were to my right. In front and all around me were rolling, verdant pastures studded with clumps of wild iris. There wasn’t another soul in sight. I was in heaven.

In contrast, I remember the last job I had when I lived in Oakland, 18 years ago. I was the office manager for a chiropractor, working in a building – like so many buildings in Oakland – that had bars on the windows. Spring would come and I’d be aching to be outdoors. Instead I was behind bars, feeling chained to the desk and phone. Short of playing hooky, there was no way I could be out in God’s country on a Thursday morning.

Around that time, I went to hear Vicki Robbins speak about her book (with Joe Dominguez), Your Money Or Your Life, and learned about Voluntary Simplicity and living an authentic life. Over the ensuing years, I endeavored to create a life that allowed me to live in synch with my values, a life that gave me ample time to be of service and connect with Mama Earth.

I have created that life. How did I get here? Mostly by living simply, not buying or owning too many things and thereby not needing to work full time to support the typical American pattern of conspicuous consumption. But also by staying aware and making conscious choices based on my values. So now I can spend a weekday hiking through some of the most beautiful scenery on earth instead of being (energetically) chained to a desk.

And if I can do it, so can you, if you decide you truly want to. Of course, my version of the simple life will look different from yours. Not everyone wants to raise chickens and vegetables and bake her own bread, or live in the country with a sky full of stars at night and deer out the kitchen window in the morning. This is my version of the good life. I encourage you to envision yours, and then begin making it real.


Tip of the Month
Make a mind map of your perfect life. What does it look like? Feel like? Smell like? What time of day do you get up and go to bed? Who shares your daily life with you? What activities are you doing? What skills are you using? What are your motivating values? Fill in as many details as you can think of, and then ask more questions of yourself and fill in even more details! And then, if you’re willing, share your thoughts and vision with me. I’d love to see your dreams and support you in making them come true.


Quotes of the Month
…simple living is living in balance between poverty and excess, in a way that supports rather than entangles our existence as whole human beings. It requires learning the difference between our needs and wants, the necessary and the superfluous, the useful and the wasteful; it requires preserving what is vital and eliminating the extra – considering what is good for the rest of humanity and the Earth as well as what is good for ourselves. When we identify what our true needs are and how we can satisfy those needs, we can begin to pare away the excess.” -- Debra Lynn Dadd


In the rush of modern industrial society and in the attempt to maintain our image as successful persons, we feel that we have lost touch with a deeper, more profound part of our being. Yet we feel that we have little time, energy, or cultural support to pursue those areas of life that we know are important. We long for a simpler way of life that allows us to restore some balance to our lives.” -- Ram Dass




Recipe of the Month

Cream Cake with Fresh Strawberries

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Grease an 8-inch square Pyrex

Combine:
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup cream
1 large egg

Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, until an inserted toothpick comes out clean.
Allow to cool for at least 30 minutes.

Top with fresh sliced strawberries (sweetened if desired).

If you’re feeling really decadent, whip up some fresh cream, too!

Those Special Folks from Our Past

I got a very special phone call today, one I never anticipated receiving.

A former student of mine, from the year I taught sixth grade (1989-1990), found me on the Internet and called. He’s pushing 30 now, has a young family and a career. But he’d run across one of those “who was a special teacher in your life?” questions and, once again, as he has over the years, he thought of me. So he looked me up and called, just to tell me that I had made a difference in his life, that I wasn’t like all the other teachers and that was why he and his classmates liked me – I was a real human being, more like a friend.

Oh my God – what a blessing! I remembered that year – my last year as a classroom teacher – as my year from hell. The principal had it out for me, and one of the students made life difficult because he’d really wanted to be in the other sixth-grade classroom with the “cool” teacher. I liked the kids, and I like to think I was an okay teacher. But never in my dreams did I think I’d made a memorable impact on those kids.

And a couple of weeks ago I received a shy “hello” from an old college colleague. I spent my senior year at Sonoma State as second-in-command on the school paper. My colleague was the editor the second semester, so we worked side by side for several months. And haven’t heard from each other since graduating in 1981. I’ve thoroughly been enjoying exchanging emails with him, and am looking forward to his visiting (with his wife) in the fall.

All of which has me thinking about former teachers who made a difference in my life. I can think of four.

Mrs. Fortman – a formidable English teacher at Analy High. It was because of her that I read Chaim Potok’s The Chosen and Dalton Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun. She appeared gruff and stern, but her classroom library was filled with thought-provoking (and somewhat radical) novels.

Russ Reade – also at Analy. Russ taught Social Biology, which was one of the two classes I actually showed up on campus for that year. He had us researching and thinking about issues like cryogenics and euthanasia – it was really more like a class on scientific ethics. He retired a short while later to buy a whore house in Nevada.

Cott Hobart – was my Humanities teacher at Santa Rosa Junior College. I hold Cott personally responsible for gifting me with my spiritual path. He introduced us to Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung, and taught about the Eleusinian Mysteries. These have been my spiritual reference points ever since.

Gerry Haslam – taught English and linguistics at Sonoma State. He’s also a writer, and I own several of his books. (I keep very few books.) Gerry was also the faculty advisor on the college paper, so we got to know him reasonably well. He’s one of the most decent human beings I’ve ever met.

Who were your special teachers? And have you let them know?

Playing the Game/Pumpkin Bread

Saturday was the annual professional organizers’ conference down in the Bay Area. While I normally dread conferences, I kinda like this one. It’s smaller than the national conference, and is attended by a number of organizers I know and like. Also, this being the San Francisco Bay Area, the flavor of organizers is more to my taste: more playful and hip.

I had put together and moderated a panel on Simple and Sustainable Organizing for this conference. The panelists discussed conscious consuming (issues to consider when making purchases), earth-friendly organizing products, recycling, and how to speak to our clients about being more “green.” We had a decent turn out, and not nearly enough time to answer questions. Given that I’m committed to living a fairly simple life – which extends to running a simple business – I was encouraged by the response to the panel. The more people living simply and consciously, the healthier the planet and its inhabitants can be.

After the conference, a few of us organizers went out for dinner. Walking back to the hotel afterward, I was talking with one of the more influential women in our industry. She commented that being focused on simplicity and environmentalism makes it hard for me to be mainstream. I responded that I don’t even try, to which she employed the Dr. Phil line of “And how’s that working for you?”

Ouch. Disapproval for not playing the game.

I told her, truthfully, that not being mainstream works fine for me. I live in a community that shares my values, and attract clients who appreciate my NOT being like all the others. I’ve had clients hire me because of the picture on my website where I’m bent over, feeding chickens. They were so relieved to find an organizer who didn’t look “professional,” i.e. citified and suited up for success.

Still, it’s lonely out here on the fringes. When asked if I’d rather “be like everyone else,” of course my answer is “no.” But it takes courage to stand firm in my difference, to be the outsider in my industry. Especially since, by normal standards (specifically, money made), I’m not “successful.” Eleven years in the business and I still have a light client load, still wonder how I’m making ends meet many months.

But money isn’t how I measure success. I’m living the life I want: waking up with no alarm clock to cuddle with purring cats and gaze out my window at trees; puttering around my beautiful little house in the mornings; having time to cook and write and read; eating well; spending time with friends and neighbors; making a real difference in people’s lives.


I’ve written before (I think) about how much joy I get, walking over to the neighbors to buy my eggs. A few weeks ago, Larry (the father) came by and insisted that we pick tomatoes before they rotted. Being good neighbors, we obliged. While filling our Farmers’ Market basket heaping with tomatoes, Larry further insisted that we pick a pumpkin from his patch. (Every year he grows a pumpkin patch that school children come to on field trips and pick pumpkins to take home.)

Today I cooked up the pumpkin. Six cups of it is in the freezer, waiting to be turned into pie for Thanksgiving (and maybe a soup sometime this fall). But some of it went into the following recipe. Which turned out pretty good, if I may say so…

By the way, you’ll notice it has wheat. The eating for my blood type (no wheat) made me feel like crap, so I stopped it some months back.

Happy Halloween!


Pumpkin-Cranberry-Pecan Bread

Combine:
2 cups flour (½ whole wheat, ½ white)
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
Cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves (in that order of emphasis)

Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and add:
2 eggs
1 cup oil
2 cups puréed pumpkin
A splash of Triple Sec (optional)

Mix quickly to combine wet and dry ingredients.

Fold in:
1 cup chopped cranberries
¼ cup raisins
¼ cup chopped pecans

Pour into bread pan (this made two loaves when I made it)

Bake at 350 for about an hour, maybe longer. (I use the top-is-cracked-and-browned cue to determine doneness. Inserting a toothpick and having it come out clean works, too.)

The Personal IS Political

Back in 1974, as a high school junior, I had to research and write a term paper for my English class. I chose to investigate comprehensive medical care, and my Canadian father helped by mailing envelopes bursting with information on Canada’s medical system. I also learned about England’s system. And I read story after scary story about the abuses of medicine for profit, e.g. doctors performing unnecessary hysterectomies on poor women of color. I became 100% convinced: we needed to remove the profit motive from medicine.

Call me old-fashioned; call me naïve -- I probably am. But naïveté speaks of a good heart, and I’d rather be hopeful than cynical (although cynical comes pretty easy these days). I believe that government’s function is to provide for the general welfare of its populace, that we elect representatives to take on the job of seeing to those needs that affect us all. Health care affects us all. And the cost of health care has become unbearable.

Count me among the millions of America’s uninsured citizens. As a self-employed single woman, I cannot begin to afford medical insurance. Up until now, I’ve found my way around this obstacle; I live a reasonably healthy lifestyle, and get what medical care I need through the local health clinic at sliding-scale fees. Even paying cash for dentists and eye care, I spend far less than I would on private-pay health insurance. By the graces of good health and state-funded health programs, I scrape by.

Until yesterday, when I went to the pharmacy. Ah, the heartbreak of psoriasis; a plague on my skin for pushing 30 years now. The only thing I’ve ever found to help was a synthetic Vitamin D brand-named Dovonex, sold through Bristol-Myers. For many years, Dovonex was available through a program that some pharmaceutical companies provide for those of us floating in limbo: too poor for health insurance and too wealthy for public assistance. But a couple of years ago, Bristol-Myers discontinued offering Dovonex this way. I dug deep and paid for a couple of bottles of scalp solution, which I’ve eked out over time, along with the cream I still had from the “free” days. But my supply is running low, so my doctor called in a new prescription for me. Yesterday I went to pick up the drugs, only to learn that I couldn’t afford them. They had gone up in price to over $200 EACH, five times more than I had anticipated, based on my (sketchy) memory. Ouch. I told the pharmacy clerk to restock the meds; I will have to do without them. (I also had the small-town joy of saying this in front of a former client, who was standing at the counter at the time.)

There is no good reason that this product, which has been out for years and would have recouped its research-and-development costs long ago, should cost so much. Except for greed. I doubt the higher echelon of Bristol-Myers ever has to worry about how to pay for their medicine, let alone how to afford medical insurance. (In his 5/19 review of Sicko in Time, Richard Corliss notes that “HMOs and pharmaceutical companies have made billions while Americans have health care below the standard of other industrialized countries, and pay more for it.”) So here’s my idealism again: tax the rich. Skim the financial cream off the obscene excesses of the rich – those who keep getting richer while the poor get poorer – and pool the money into funds that provide for the general well-being of all, including comprehensive medical care. It’s a bloody sin that the executives of pharmaceutical companies are swimming in wealth while I (and people like me) can’t afford medicine.

I realize that this is a simplistic answer to a complicated problem, and that creating a government-funded medical insurance program that works is challenging. Hopefully the Democrats will manage to institute a sensible and successful program. (Okay, I’m being a dreamer again.) All I know is that we need comprehensive medical care. Of course, after presenting my mounds of research and resulting thesis to this effect years ago (as the oral presentation part of my project), Mrs. Hastings’ response was a snide “You realize you’re proposing socialism, don’t you?”

I never wrote the paper.

Anti-Authoritarian Organizing

Twice recently I've been misquoted. One woman, who was in the process of clearing out her closet, proudly insisted she was following my advice by getting rid of anything she hadn't worn in a year. Another was astounded to learn that my house, while tidy, is far from passing the white glove test; she was certain that I had a regular cleaning schedule.

Hey, folks -- pay attention. I'm an organizer, but that doesn't mean I advocate (let alone implement) rigid rules and routines. In fact, I find rigid rules and routines disturbing. (The FlyLady's advice drives me up a wall.) I realize that people -- especially people who are struggling with problems resulting from being disorganized -- long for structure, for someone to come along and tell them what to do. There are people out there who crave an authority figure.

But I'm not that figure. I have never said that, if you haven't worn (or used) something in a year, you should get rid of it. In fact, I quite clearly state that this advice is "arbitrary and externally imposed. I want you to make decisions based on your own needs, values, and goals, not on some magic number dug out of an organizer's advice bag" (page 126, The Spiritual Art of Being Organized).

As for a regular cleaning schedule -- ha! Yes, I have my daily chores, morning and evening rhythms that I've molded for myself, and just as often modify to fit my mood. I enjoy sweeping my floors in the morning, feeding the cats, feeding myself. I like the feel of soap and warm water, so washing dishes is a pleasure. And there's a calming satisfaction to hanging my laundry to dry. But I hate dusting, vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing the toilet, washing windows. So these chores get done when I feel up to them, not on any schedule. Not very efficient, perhaps, but that's okay. (Besides, trying to keep surfaces clean during the wet season, when four cats are constantly painting the floors, counters, and dresser tops with dainty mud prints, is like sweeping back the sand at the beach.)

Being organized means being "at ready." It's what frees us to share our talents with the world, and what helps us to easily find our toys. The whole point of being organized is to make our lives easier, fuller, more meaningful. Organization is a supportive structure that allows us to ride life's rapids, to flow with the anarchy of existence. Constricting that anarchy with rigidity and rules stifles our life energy, which is the exact opposite of organization's goal.

My cousin David is one of the most famous anarchists in the U.S. His ceaseless work to bring justice and equality to all takes the form of teaching nonviolent protest, puppetry as political theater, and consensus as decision-making procedure. David is the youngest of his siblings, while I am the oldest of mine. At either end of the sibling spectrum, we joke about being the two organizers. Ostensibly, he is a political organizer and I a personal organizer (although I prefer the term "professional" so as to make clear that I am a consultant, not some indulgence of the privileged class). He is considered the radical, I the non-political liberal. And while it's true that David is politically active and has been arrested innumerable times for his activism, I think of my work as equally subversive and revolutionary. He takes his lessons to the street; I take them into people's homes. Together we hope to change the world for the better.

And that certainly doesn't mean dutifully following the dictates put forth by organizers -- professional or otherwise. Think for yourself, and do what you can to make the world a better place.

Finding Our Direction

Our landmarks have changed.

When I give directions to my home, I speak of passing two covered bridges, then going six tenths of a mile until you see a cream-colored duplex with lipstick trim on the right. There are two black mailboxes out front, and a big red round sign that says "Elk River Courts" is just past my driveway. My house, I say, is the one with the deck.

I was visiting an old friend in Santa Rosa this weekend. He asked me to come down for his dog's burial, which was a lovely ceremony that began with an invocation of the directions, followed by song and poetry, then the physical placing of mementos and ashes into the ground. After planting a dwarf bottlebrush and a leptospermum to mark the grave, we gathered round the kitchen table for coffee and homemade scones.

Somehow, the conversation got around to restaurants, with hearty recommendations of favorites. The neighbors were explaining where these hidden treasures could be found. The Japanese restaurant is over by Carl's Junior; the good Chinese restaurant -- the one with enough class to make walnut prawns sans mayonnaise -- is in the downtown mall. (The theater that airs commercials before the previews -- how obnoxiously crass! -- is next to Bakers Square.)

Listening to their conversation, I realized: it's come to this. Our destinations are malls and our landmarks are chains. The great American individuality and creativity upon which we pride ourselves is being devoured by conformity and mediocrity. Across our nation (and across Canada, I'm sorry to say), our towns look just like the other one with strip malls and fast food joints and that cancerous WalMart spreading over the land.

Get me out of here.

But maybe there's hope. Arcata, California -- the town that Fox News loves to mock -- has limited the number of chain restaurants and is exploring implementing a ban on chain stores. A few years ago, my fellow voters in Eureka, California, defeated a zoning variance, effectively blocking WalMart from building a store in our community. Today I read that Stockton, California, is considering an ordinance that would block new big-box retail stores from setting up shop. (http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/news/breaking_news/16789225.htm) Across the country, communities are waking up and saying enough's enough; they are successfully stopping the spread of sameness and superstores.

So what can we do? The one thing we have some control over is our own behavior. I included a quote from Wendell Berry in my book (The Spiritual Art of Being Organized) that applies here:

"What we must do is use well the considerable power we have as consumers: the power of choice. We can choose to buy or not to buy, and we can choose what to buy. The standard by which we choose must be the health of the community—and by that we mean the whole community: ourselves, the place where we live, and all the humans and other creatures who live there with us. It is better to buy at a small, privately owned local store than from a chain store. It is better to buy a good product than a bad one. Do not buy anything you don't need. Do everything you can to see that your money stays as long as possible in the local community."

Amen.

Country Living

And I don’t mean the picture-perfect everything-matches life portrayed in the magazine of the same name.

We’re getting the garden ready for winter, in our haphazard, don’t-really-know-what-we’re-doing way. Saturday we took Ant’s Toyota pickup over to Rabbi Les’ place and loaded up on composted llama manure. (The Rabbi has two llamas.) I’ve been spending an hour or two in the garden most days since then, weeding the beds, adding the manure, then mulching with rice straw. Today Ant spent some time in the garden with me, weeding his kohlrabi and radishes and dead-heading the dahlias. He also cut the heads off a few of the larger sunflowers, which I’ve brought inside to dry. I hope the seeds will be edible.

I’m also hoping that our favorite growers – Rita and Laurie of Flying Blue Dog Nursery – will have starts of various cole crops at market this weekend so that we can have a winter garden: broccoli, brussell sprouts, chard, and so on. We’re not very good at planning; if we were, we’d have started seeds ourselves a month ago. And we have yet to plant enough of any crop to have anything more than a handful at each harvest, enough for a meal here and there, never enough to preserve or sell. I’d like to change that. My sister and her husband have an organic farm in Scotland, and they’re doing well at selling weekly baskets of produce, eggs, and flowers. I would love to be doing the same thing here, but don’t feel like I have the know-how or the help to pull it off.

Well, I may not try to have chickens again. My neighbors up two doors up the road sell eggs fresh from their hens. Anytime I need more eggs, I walk to their barn, pick up what I need, and drop money into the box – eggs on the honor system.

My dad admits to shaking his head in amazement, wondering aloud to his wife how he, an utterly urban man, wound up with two country girls for daughters. Seeing the way he delights over the beauty of something as mundane as a thistle, though, I understand where Jessica (my sister) and I got our love of nature. I’ve lived in the city, loved being able to hop a bus or walk to whatever I needed. But I also love looking out my kitchen window to see the pasture full of Farmer John’s "girls": doe-eyed Jerseys grazing 10 feet from my window. I love watching the birds come and go with their seasons – the flickers and stellar jays and Oregon junkos and robins – love listening to the osprey’s high cry and the distinctive sound that a raven’s wings make as they displace air.

I even love the excitement of chasing my neighbor’s "pet" raccoon out of the garden, where it was planning to dumpster-dive my compost bin in broad daylight. (My neighbor’s been feeding it because she can’t refuse a cute face. I know, I know – give her the lecture, not me!) Actually, I only started to chase the raccoon; Ant did the real running it off. Right down the private road, toward the buck who was there, eyeing the abandoned apple trees. Raccoons and bucks in the middle of the day…

Soon our apples will be ready to harvest, then I’ll need to either dry them for winter snacks, or freeze them for apple pies. Remind me when we get closer to Thanksgiving and I’ll give y’all my recipe for sugar-free apple pie and for pumpkin pie (from scratch – we’ve 2 pie pumpkins in the garden, both of which were volunteers). I think my pumpkin pie is the best around, and the sugar-free apple pie is delicious (sweetened with raisins).

Oh my, Thanksgiving. Autumn really is here, isn’t it?

Okay, here’s my favorite way to eat Brussell Sprouts – with Horseradish & Cheese Sauce

Sautee 8 sliced mushrooms in either olive oil or butter
Add about 1 pound of brussells, washed, stemmed, and sliced lengthwise in half
Cook, covered, over medium-low heat until tender (to taste).

While the sprouts are cooking, grate about 1 cup of sharp cheddar cheese.
Once the sprouts are cooked, push them to one side of the skillet.
Add in 2 Tablespoons of butter
Mix into the butter 1 heaping Tablespoon of flour
Add one cup of milk, and mix so that the flour/butter is fully dissolved into the milk.
Add the grated cheese, 1 heaping Tablespoon of horseradish, and 1 Tablespoon of dried tarragon.
Continue stirring until everything is well blended and the sauce has thickened. (It’s okay to be mixing the brussells and shrooms in with the sauce.)

Serve over pasta.
Yum.

Coming Out of the Non-Consumer Closet/Kugel

1981. I’m sitting in the local coffee shop in Cotati one evening when Lisa, a woman I’ve known since 8th grade, pops in and expresses delight to find me. "Just the person I was looking for!" she says. "I’m writing a paper on Existentialism for my class, and I knew you could help me with it."

Ah, come on, Lisa. Just because I spent my teen years wandering around barefoot and exclaiming that "life is absurd." (I think I was often found muttering "chauvinist pig," too, but it was the mid-70’s and I was being raised by a left-wing feminist.)

I no longer believe life is absurd (although I’ve no doubt that god has a bizarre sense of humor and we’re best off learning to laugh with her), but I often feel as though I am living in a surreal time and place, something out of a sci-fi novel – you know, those novels where The Corporation rules every part of our existence? Of course, the writers are probably only slightly elaborating on what already exists; nonetheless, I frequently experience flashes of "this is so scary-weird."

A minor case in point. I was recently reading the letters in Costco Connection (I’m a compulsive reader; what can I say?) and came across one from a Costco fan entitled "Ubiquitous Brand." The woman writes about how, as she "went about my… daily chores I kept noticing the Kirkland Signature brand throughout my house. It was on everything from clothing and laundry supplies to items in the pantry." I realize she’s expressing pleasure with the quality of Costco’s brand, but all I could think was: "Does anyone else think this is scary?" Ubiquitous, indeed. Try, insidious. Sends shivers through my spine.

It’s a mixed blessing, this being out of step with mass consumer culture. I’m very happy with my life. But I am timid about "coming out" as different. Another example: There’s a discussion currently ensuing on the chat group for one of the professional organizations to which I belong. The participants have been discussing what they carry with them as part of their "bag of tricks." The lists are impressively long, and – to me – bafflingly complex. I take my calendar, business cards, and a pen – all of which live in my purse – and that’s it. I’ve been chicken about going public on the group with this information. However, A. spoke up, which gave me the courage to post my perspective. The nice part is, I received an e-mail thanking A. and me. The gal said that, as she’d "been furiously taking notes on things that I might want to add to my case, I stopped myself and considered how well I've been doing with the few items that I do take with me. Much of it stays in my car and, as you, I enter my client's door with a pad, pen, (maybe a tape measure) and a smile."

And there’s the key: Choice, driven by mindfulness and a willingness to not do what everyone else is doing (or buy what everyone else is buying).

*****

You know what? Here it is, September 25, 2006, and I’m still running around barefoot, albeit only around the house. (And I’m more likely to exclaim that "life is good.") Here it is, Monday, an unusually warm day (Indian Summer arrived on the first day of Autumn), and I’m puttering around in a full-length gauzy sleeveless dress (not suitable for public) and a pair of shorts. I’ve washed and hung the laundry to dry, baked a loaf of bread for Anthony, and picked some tomatoes, strawberries, apples, and kohlrabi from the garden (all of which I’ll take over to Ant’s house tonight so that he has some food when he gets home from 3 weeks in Maine). The Corporation may steal other people’s souls, but it ain’t got mine. I like Mondays!

*****

Recipe time. Rosh Hashana arrived along with Autumn this year. Traditionally, one eats apples dipped in honey in hopes for a sweet year. My version of this tradition is to make a Lokshen Kugel, which I’ll be doing later this week. Here’s the recipe. (None of the ingredients came from Costco.)

Boil 8 ounces of wide egg noodles until just tender. Drain, butter, and set aside.

Combine
2 eggs
1 cup cottage cheese
4 ounces cream cheese
1/4 cup honey
1 Tablespoon lemon juice (fresh)
1 Tablespoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg

Add in
1/2 cup raisins
2 to 3 peeled, cored, and chopped apples

Mix noodles in with the cheese/fruit.

Add the whole kit and caboodle to a well-buttered 9 x 13 pyrex.

Crumble about 1 cup’s worth of (organic!) Corn Flakes over the top.

Bake at 375 for 35 to 45 minutes.

Cooking Caveat/Stuffed Zucchini

Back in 1983 (or was it 1984?), when I was working in Oakland as the editor for a sports publishing company (and no, I’m not a sports fan), a guy named Greg had a little flower stand outside our office building. I used to hand him ten bucks, a smile, and my vase, and ask him to put together a flower arrangement for me to take home. One day he suggested I arrange the flowers myself. "But I don’t know anything about flower arranging!" I protested. "You can do it," he replied. "Just play with them until they look right."

What do you know, Greg was right. I could arrange flowers to my pleasing, relying on my intuitive sense of aesthetics. (Years later I took a class or two on floral arranging, and learned the rules that defined what I already knew.)

It may seem odd that a Virgo professional organizer relies so consistently on intuition, but that’s the way I am: an eternal balance of apparent opposites. (I joke that I am the perfect blend of both my parents: my father the math professor, my mother the English teacher. Leo and Virgo, Pitta and Kapha, extrovert and introvert, linear and intuitive, I’m always both.)

Anyway, my reason for telling you all this is to give you a head’s up about my recipes. I’m afraid I’m something of an intuitive cook, too. Except with baking (and even that’s not precise), I just throw things together until they seem right. And so I apologize to those of you who want clear direction and exact measurements. I’ll do my best to give rough estimates of quantities, but ultimately I encourage you to "play with it until is seems right." I know you can do it!

Claire’s Stuffed Zucchini
Quarter two large (NOT gargantuan monsters, just decent sized) zukes. Place them face down in a 9 x 13 Pyrex with a bit of water covering the bottom. Cover the top with foil and bake until the zucchini "meat" is tender. Remove and allow to cool enough to be handled without scalding your fingers.

While the zukes are baking, sautee
1 diced onion (medium, yellow or white)

When the onions are translucent, add
8 to 10 sliced mushrooms
3 to 4 chopped garlic cloves (good sized; if the cloves are puny, use 8 to 10 of them)

Once the mushrooms have cooked, remove from heat and stir in
1 teaspoon to 1 Tablespoon of yellow curry powder (to taste)
1 to 2 teaspoons of dry thyme
2 to 3 Tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce

Use a spoon to remove the zucchini "meat" from it’s shell, and add the "meat" into the onions/mushrooms/garlic. (Leave the shells, face up like little empty row boats, in the Pyrex and remove the extra water.) Use the spoon to mash the zucchini so that it doesn’t have any lumps and is blended in with the onions, etc.

You will have extra liquid in the mixture at this point, thanks to the zukes. (Note: this is not the liquid you removed from the Pyrex. That was to be discarded, or reserved for a veggie broth, or something.) Add enough bread crumbs to sop up the liquid, making the veggies a solid – but not dry – consistency.

Mix in about 1 cup of grated sharp cheddar cheese.

Spoon the mixture back into the zucchini shells (they’ll be heaping once filled).

Bake, uncovered, at 350 until nicely browned, about 20 to 30 minutes.

Simple Abundance (with apologies to Sarah Ban Breathnach)

By middle-class American standards, I’m poor. Compared to real poverty, of course, I’m amazingly wealthy. It’s all relative. Truth is, I don’t have a whole lot,but what I have is in my life by choice.

My house is smaller than some of the "bonus" rooms I’ve seen at clients’ houses (who the hell needs a "bonus"room?), but it’s big enough for me and my five cats.(My sweetheart of seven years, Anthony, lives with his four cats in his house,about 15 miles away.) My house is 24 x 28 feet – a bedroom, office, bathroom,and open kitchen/dining/living room. (Okay, if you count the laundry/utility room, add another 60 square feet or so.) The only door in the house is to the bathroom (the bedroom and office have arches), so the house feels open and airy.

My income is smaller than most of my clients’, too. For unknown reasons, business has slowed down considerably this summer. This has been an interesting exercise in faith for me: trusting that I will be okay, that this is just one of those (stomach-lurching) dips on the rollercoaster of self-employment. Some days are emotionally easier than others, but I find myself too vulnerable to sudden shifts; while generally cheerful(especially if I’m involved in a creative project), I plummet into depression when a client cancels. My cash flow is so tight that every cancellation requires re-juggling of resources to barely squeak by.

Which brings me to the Simple Abundance part of this post – a day of richness and blessings, without needing to spend a penny.

Morning began with cat cuddles. Jules snuggled against my left side, Sam on my stomach,Paquito on my right side. (Zachary’s still learning to be affectionate, and so was by my left foot at the end of the bed.) Ochosi, my calico princess,jumped up for loving at one point, too. What a lovely way to start the day– waking up on my own, no alarm clock, and lounging with the cats, purring and petting for a good half hour or more.

Fed the cats, made the bed,swept the floors, checked email – my usual morning routine. Heated up left-over Southwest Corn Tart (from Fields of Greens) and baked a batch of zucchini muffins (recipe at the end of this post), enjoying both for breakfast. Then I watered the deck plants, dead-headed the oregano and dahlias, and put together bouquets for the house – a vase of sterling silver roses, another of sunflowers and huge yellow dahlias, a third of larkspur, snapdragons, scabiosa, geum, calendula, dahlias, and lavender. All from the garden. For years I’ve wanted to have enough flowers growing that I wouldn’t feel guilty picking them; finally,I have my wish! (The oregano I’m drying for my spice rack.)

I read for most of the afternoon. Am reading both Judith Levine’s Not Buying It:My Year Without Shopping (a disappointment, I’m sorry to say) and Affluenza. Both are borrowed from the library. (I’ve also been reading the daily posts from The Compact’s yahoo group. I’m encouraged to see people living consciously and simply. Especially as a professional organizer, I’m delighted to see folks scaling down, de-cluttering, not buying so much useless crap, healing from their addiction to retail therapy.)

At one point, I walked over to Marianne’s house to return her serving dish (she’d left it here after my birthday party) and to bring her a jar of sunflowers. Then I made dinner. Picked the last of the peas from the garden and steamed them up with a delicious carrot(from the carrot lady at Farmers’ Market) and some rice, and baked a fresh salmon steak (with a ground almond and horseradish crust) that my neighbor gave me. (I have the best neighbors! At least twice a year, Dave and Teresa give me crab or salmon that Dave’s caught that day.)

Also whipped up a batch of pesto (basil, lots of garlic, olive oil, toasted pinon nuts, and grated parmesan, with some lemon zest thrown in for fun) before the basil wimped out on me. (The pesto’s now in the freezer, as are most of the zucchini muffins.)

And I harvested a cup of strawberries for tomorrow’s breakfast (with plain, nonfat yogurt, a bit of maple syrup and vanilla stirred in).

Dessert was a peach and blackberry crisp (blackberries picked from my back yard): I sliced 3 peaches into a square Pyrex, added a quart of blackberries, and covered them with a crumble made of steel-cut oats, butter, and brown sugar. Baked at 350 until it smelled ready and was nicely browned.

(The left-over salmon will be turned into salmon patties: mix cooked salmon, an egg, grated onion, horseradish, lemon, dill,and chopped parsely, add enough bread crumbs or panko to hold it all together, form into patties, then sautee until golden brown.)

So that’s my day– filled with fresh-cut flowers, delicious organic food, books, a beautiful home, and kitty love. All for free. I didn’t spend a cent, nor did I have to drive anywhere.

Oh, and I started this blog (which I’ve been thinking about doing for months).

And,perhaps in answer to my prayers, over the past 24 hours I’ve been asked to speak at two separate upcoming gigs. The talks aren’t paying much, but they’re an opportunity to help others, to make new contacts, and maybe even to sell some books. Who knows, maybe they’ll even generate new clients.

Blessings,

Claire


Zucchini Muffins (courtesy of my friend Pam)
Combine:
1 cup white flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp cloves
2/3 cups coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans

In mixing bowl beat:
2 eggs
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup oil
Beat 3 minutes or until very smooth.

Add :
2 cups grated zucchini (about two medium)
Optional: 1/2 cup raisins

Mix in the dry ingredients.

Fill muffin cups and bake in preheated 350 degree oven for 20-25 minutes.