Watching Bread Rise: A Metaphor for Growth

This week I made bread from scratch. I'm a bit of a foody, if you haven't already figured that out, so the process of watching the bio-chemical replication of yeast is something that fascinates me. Yes, I know, I need to get a life, and that is indeed what I hope to do this year.

Bread-making is an appropriate picture of life growth. Yeast is a living creature -- Saccharomyces cerevisiae -- a one-celled critter that procreates like crazy if you give it enough sugar and warm water. When you combine these happy little yeastie-beasties with flour, salt, a lot of time and a little heat, you get bread.

I have an idea for a long-term life project. I have been tossing the idea around in my mind for several months, and now I want to nurture it with the hope it will rise like bread dough. The idea is the flour, the yeast is the planning, and the sugar and warm water is the research. Hopefully, the planning and research will make that idea rise up into reality. I don't expect achieving my goal will be easy. I expect a little heat along the way, but you need some heat to bake good bread.

I'm sorry to be so vague on the specifics of the project. I'm still in the planning stages, and, if you have ever made bread, you know that if conditions are not right, the bread dough won't rise. So I'm not going to say any more about it now in case things fall flat.

But to leave you with a little more than my ramblings, here is the recipe I used to make the gorgeous loaf of bread in the picture above:

Thoroughly mix together in a large crockery bowl:

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 1/2 cups all purpose white flour
1 teaspoon salt

In a separate bowl, combine:

1 package of dry active yeast
2 tablespoons of sugar
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of warm water

About 10 minutes later, when the yeast is frothing on top of the water, add the liquid to the dry ingredients and thoroughly mix. Put a little flour on a bread board and dump out the dough on it. Vigorously knead the bread for about 5 minutes. (Great therapy). Return the dough to the crockery bowl and cover with a clean kitchen cloth. Put it someplace warm and leave it for about 3 hours.

After the dough has risen (it should double or even triple in size) add some more flour to the board, dump out the dough, and knead for another 5 minutes. Shape the dough into a ball and place it in a large cast iron skillet. Cover and let it rise for another hour. About 15 minutes before you plan to bake the bread, preheat the oven to 375 F. (about 220C). Uncover the skillet, put it in the oven and bake for about 25 minutes (or until the top is golden brown).

Prepare to swoon from the aroma.

ljgloyd (c) 2012

Sometimes You've Got to Let Loose

This weekend I stopped at a store on the way to an appointment. In the parking lot of the store, there was a group gathered. I'm not sure of the nature of the gathering, but it appeared that everyone was having a lot of fun and that the event was open to anyone who wanted to participate. I did not have the time so I just shot this quick video and went on my way. In retrospect, I realize how busy and overcommitted I've been for the last few weeks. I could have been a few minutes late to my appointment. I really should have stopped and participated. It would have been good for me.

Sometimes you've just gotta let loose:

That Reflection in the Mirror

This morning while on the way to work I stopped at a diner for a quick bite of breakfast and a cup of tea. When the cashier handed back my change I noticed that it was more than the amount I usually get back, so I mentioned it to her. She smiled and replied, "It's okay." Noticing my confusion, she printed out a receipt and pointed to the "Senior discount" she had given me. (I appreciate her tact in not saying this aloud for everyone in line to hear.)

Let me assure you that I am nowhere near the standard recognized senior citizen age. Furthermore, this is not the first time that I have received unexpected senior discounts. However, all the other times I have received discounts I laughed it off and pegged it on the fact that the various clerks were teenagers and probably thought anyone over 30 was a senior. This morning, though, the cashier was closer to my age and for some reason her miscalculation bothered me.

Am I really old?

When I seated myself, I pulled out my compact mirror and gave myself a look. Yes, my hair is turning silver. I had stopped coloring my hair because of the expense and the maintenance. Yet, I started to wonder if maybe I should begin again to do that. Also, I had to concede that lately I don't move as fast or as far as I used to and that I often wake up with aches and pains that I did not have only a couple of years ago. Furthermore, lately I have started thinking more about retirement and if I am going to have enough money to live. Did I plan well enough all these years? My fear is that I will need to work until I'm 108 in order to survive -- provided that an old bat like me doesn't get laid off and not be able to find another job.

Yikes! No wonder people think I am old. I had the sudden revelation that I look old because I am acting and thinking I am old. This is an obvious and clichéd conclusion, I know, but it is a conclusion that everyone must come to on their own at some point. I just had my "aha" moment over a breakfast burrito this morning.

So, what am I going to do to break out of this thought pattern?

It is not news that the experts have said that to stave off the consequences of old age, one needs to engage in new and different activities. Since my habit has always been to explore new activities, I am already in a good place in that regard. (For example, I took up bellydancing when I turned 40). I just need to not talk myself out of trying new and different activities "because I'm too old."

Secondly, I need to stop focusing on all my aches and pains. I need to stop focusing on myself, period. I need to get out there and focus on others.

Next, when I start worrying about the future, I need to remind myself that Providence has never let me down in the past -- why should it now? Faith is a powerful weapon and the older I become, the more adept I become at wielding it.

In addition, I have to stop worrying that I might not have made the right decisions in the past regarding my future. What good will worrying do now? I am reminded of a line from the movie Under the Tuscan Sun where Katherine tells Frances that "regrets are a waste of time. They're the past crippling you in the present."

Finally, and probably most importantly, I have to get out of the insidious thought pattern that to be old is to be decrepit, useless, and sad. Good grief, no! I declare right now, on this day, that I will not be any of those things. I will be functional, generous, wise, faith-filled, and joyful. I think I will start right now by getting a tee-shirt that says, "I'm Embracing My Inner Crone and She's Ready for a Good Time."

When I really do get to senior citizen status, I will be one rockin' old broad. Wanna join me? I promise it will be a blast.

ljgloyd (c) 2011

Image: Morguefile . com

Why I Will Never Go on a Ghost Hunt

I confess: Sometimes I watch paranormal shows on tv. Mostly, I watch the shows with goofy ghost investigators because they are such amusing characters, their shows are truly entertaining, and that most likely what we see is not really what is true.

In spite of my skepticism regarding these shows, I want to go on record to say that I do believe in paranormal phenomena, and because of this, I will never participate in a real paranormal investigation.

Before I explain this statement, let me share my thoughts about how I perceive most paranormal phenomena. First, I think that most phenomena that are deemed "paranormal" can be debunked. I think most sounds and sightings investigators experience are the result of misinterpreted natural phenomena. The next time Grant says "Did you hear that? What the frig with that?", I wish Jason would say "Dude, that was the bean burrito I had for lunch." Physical phenomenon with a logical explanation, for sure.

Second, I think that there are some phenomena that have natural explanations that we just can't explain YET. For example, when the ghost-guys on tv speak about "residual haunts", I wonder if there is some truth to the theory that physical substances like stone and wood can absorb and play back the energy from strong emotional events. Also, I suspect that there is some truth to assertion that high electro-magnetic fields affect sensitive people. What sensitives perceive as paranormal is really a psycho-physiological reaction to physical energy. Finally, I have my own theory that the timestream might bend and fold in such a way that what some people perceive as ghosts are really backward looks at actual events seen through these folds in time. I wonder what a quantum physicist would have to say about this. Maybe there might be research in this area someday. In the meantime, I truly appreciate legitimate investigators who use empirical scientific methods to gather and analyze data on such phenomena and are looking for natural explanations.

All this being said, I believe there is some phenomena that cannot be debunked or scientifically explained. I believe there is something out there that constitutes true spiritual hauntings of places and people.

However, I don't believe that those entities doing the haunting are the spirits of departed humans who just want to come back and visit their earthly homes and loved ones. To me it is not logical that any respectable specters are going to want to be anywhere but partying up there behind the Pearly Gates. I base this on my faith tradition that states "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord" and that those who have had a taste of the good-life in the after-life are not going to be flitting around down here in this mucky, nasty old world. Therefore, if those folks are up in heaven, what does that leave skulking around down here in those haunted houses? Nothing that I want to be dealing with!

I get really nervous when I watch the tv ghost busters do "EVP" (electronic voice phenomena) sessions. I know they want to stir up entities in order to capture digital recordings of "voices", but I wonder if they realize how dangerous these entities might be? I believe spirits can attach themselves to willing humans and follow them home. Who wants this? I sure don't. I can't be certain about all religious traditions, but I know that the big three monotheistic ones urge their followers not to speak to spirits. Stirring up spirits is deemed so dangerous to the entire community that severe punishments are reserved for those who do. Personally, I think thousands of years of wisdom on this matter are not something to ignore.

I mean no disrespect to any person’s belief system. All I can tell you is what I believe and why. I stated earlier that I watch paranormal reality shows on tv. In reflecting on what I have just written here, now I wonder if even that is not such a good idea.

ljgloyd (c) 2011

Some Brief Comments on Naturopathy and Alternative Medicine

This last weekend I was at a social gathering and was chatting with some close acquaintances. As is often the case when a group like this gets together, we began to talk about personal concerns. One of the women in the group began to tell us of her various medical situations. Her major complaint was having to take so many medicines and their possible long-term effects.

This led us into a discussion of the use and effectiveness of diet and supplements to treat chronic conditions instead of, or along side of, conventional medication. During the course of our conversation, I found myself strongly advocating natural alternative methods for dealing with health issues, based on the information that was given to me by my own primary care practitioner (a conventional medical practitioner). I beat the drum so loudly that the next day I had friends e-mailing me to ask where I get my supplements.

A couple of days later I was thinking about this conversation and I had one of those "if I knew then what I know now" moments. In retrospect, I think I would have made a pretty good naturopathic practitioner, at least in terms of enthusiasm for the specialty. If I had this insight, say, twenty years ago, maybe I would have studied for this and the path of my life would have gone in a different direction.

At this point in my life, I do not have the financial means or the time to retool for a different career, but this has not stopped me from investigating the field. As a good consumer, I should at least educate myself on what I advocate for myself and others.

First, what is a naturopathy? According to A Consumer's Guide to Naturopathic Medicine published by The State of California Department of Consumer Affairs "naturopathic medicine is a distinct and comprehensive system of primary health care that uses natural methods and substances to support and stimulate the body’s self-healing process." Specifically, it is
using "the body's inherent wisdom to heal itself" by way of herbal and homeopathic medicine, diet and nutrition, vitamins and other supplements, massage, physical therapy, behavioral therapy and lifestyle management. It considers the whole person -- body, emotions, spirituality, environment, genetics and many other factors. In short, naturopathy is a preventative, non-evasive approach to wellness and good health.

That being said, one should not practice naturopathy on oneself anymore than one would practice conventional "allopathic" medicine on oneself. ALWAYS, consult with a licensed health practitioner before embarking on "alternative" routes to health. In the conversation with my friends, I emphasized the importance of employing both conventional and alternative medicine. In fact, I said "if you ever find me having a heart attack, take me to the HOSPITAL, not my herbalist!"

We also discussed that herbs are powerful substances and often do not interact well with conventional drugs. A conventional health practitioner most likely will not ask if you are taking any herbs or supplements before prescribing a drug, so you need to tell him or her. On the other hand, a good naturopath will want to know what medications you are taking. I am pleased to say that my herbalist asks his patients what drugs they have been prescribed and adapts his herbal prescription accordingly. There are many online drug/herb interaction databases. One that is particularly useful is The University of Maryland's Alternative Medicine Index.

When doing some initial research on what it takes to become a naturopathic doctor, I was shocked to find out that only sixteen states and five provinces in North America have licensing requirements for naturopathic doctors. This tells me that there are a lot of quacks out there practicing in areas that do not have such licensing requirements. For example, yesterday, I listened to a podcast by a "traditional" naturopath who declared that the field had been taken over by naturopathic schools which, in his opinion, had deviated from true naturopathy. He cited a couple of schools which he said were the best in the country. Upon my investigation, I found that both schools cited in the podcast were unaccredited distance-learning programs and one of them had been closed down since the podcast first recorded. I will think twice about listening to anymore podcasts by this individual.

On the other hand, California, for example, will only grant licenses to naturopathic doctors who have graduated from one of only seven schools in North America. These schools are accredited by Council of Naturopathic Medical Education and each requires students to undergo rigorous and lengthy training. I recommend that if you are selecting a naturopathic doctor that you find out where she or he trained and verify the license with your state or regional licensing board.

My point in commenting here is this: we all need to be responsible for our own wellness, and this means we need to do our homework when it comes to receiving both conventional and alternative medical care.

ljgloyd © 2011
Image from Morguefile.com

Group Dynamics and the Art of Making Soap

I watched two young women standing, heads bent, over a steaming pot. One woman slowly stirred the bubbling liquid with a spoon while the other carefully dropped an ever-so-tiny amount of oil into it. No, I was not at the movies watching the latest release of a Harry Potter film. I was at a local herb and essential oil shop taking part in a soap and bath-salt making workshop. I had received an announcement of the class the day before and on a whim I decided to take it.

When I arrived, the shopkeeper and the teacher were rushing around setting up the work area. The teacher had been delayed and had only just arrived minutes before the start of the class. The teacher, a spritely woman dressed in patch-work yoga pants and tee shirt and wearing long peacock feather earrings, was struggling to plug in several hotplates. When she saw me, she picked up two saucepans, thrust them at me, and said in a thick German accent, “Go fill these with water -- not too much.”

“Uh, sure.” I set down my purse and headed to the restroom with the pans. When I came back with the water, I saw that she had pressed two other women into service. One held a long butcher knife and was dicing up a large brick of glycerin soap, while the other was arranging some small containers on the table. The instructor took the pans of water from me and said “Good, now start opening up the other bricks of soap.” Before long the other students and I were chatting and joking and in short time the work area was ready.

This spirit of cooperation spilled over to the class. Rather than lecturing and demonstrating alone, the instructor had us all working together as she explained the process. I was put in charge of managing the hotplates, making sure that nothing boiled over. While we worked, the teacher regaled us with funny stories. (Did you know that deodorant made of sandlewood oil has aphrodisiac properties?)

As I looked around at us, I was struck by how a group of women, all of us strangers, could suddenly find ourselves working together so well. I have found that this often happens when women come together. I have seen this with a study group I belong to, with women at my church, and with a book group I attend.

I have seen the flip-side too. I have seen women savagely tear each other apart in small groups, threatening the work they came together to accomplish. I have seen large movements fail because they could not overcome internal dysfunctions.

There are three components necessary for a group of women (and men too) to work in productive harmony.

First, the goal or focus of the group needs to be clear and singular. I have seen groups of energetic and hard-working people fall apart because no one could provide a clear direction. They bumble along losing workers and credibility until they disappear. In the case of our class, we had the simple goal of learning to make soap and it took the instructor to keep us headed in that direction.

Secondly, individual humility is key to making a properly functioning group. Big egos, either through feelings too easily hurt or by inflicting an excessive personality on the rest, can throw a group into turmoil. The group goal is usually forgotten because the members get too caught up in emotional drama. The worst is the convergence of big egos and separate group goals. There is the potential for disaster when two or more “Queen Bees” try to push separate agendas and goals on the group. However, in the functional group there is a true attempt by every individual to put aside personal feelings and agendas on behalf of the others. True humility puts the group before the individual. For example, those of us conscripted to set up for the teacher could have gotten upset because she was late to class, got stressed out, and started barking orders at us. Instead, we all rolled with it for the sake of the others and it ended up being a fun and productive afternoon.

Finally, a group can have clear goals and no disruptive personalities but still have be unsuccessful if there is no sense of humor in play. When group plans go awry and the achievement of the goal is in jeopardy, sometimes a sense of humor can do much to overcome obstacles and get the group back on track. Humor goes hand-in-hand with humility. Laughing at ourselves is sometimes the best way to move the group forward. Our small soap-making group saved the afternoon by infusing our activities with a sense of fun. Sometimes you just have to lighten up.

You may think these insights on group dynamics are a lot to derive from a small group of woman taking a craft class on a Saturday afternoon. I don’t think so. All groups, small to large, from the group of women around a table to the highest halls of our legislative bodies, operate fairly much the same. I need to ask myself some questions when I am working in a group: is there a clear goal? If not, I need to ask and seek clarification for myself and the others. Do I care about putting the interests of the others before mine? How am I going to react around the Queen Bees? Am I being the Queen Bee? (Let’s hope not). Do I have a sense of humor and able to roll with the punches?

Maybe, if we have a little more insight into how we work together, we can get more accomplished in our lives and in our world.

Now I’m off to make some soap.

ljgloyd © 2011

A Moment Last Saturday

Last weekend I drove to a “Trendy-and-Affluent-City-by-the-Sea” (I’m not going to name names here). I had not been there for a while, and I wanted to shop at its farmers' market as well as visit a culinary store and the only big bookstore left in the area. As I pulled up to the entrance of one of the municipal parking structures, I saw a big sign that said “No Cashier. Take your Ticket and Pay at the Pay Machine before Returning to Your Car.”

One of my little quirks is that I hate when parking a car becomes complicated. I don’t like parking structures and particularly those wretched parking payment machines. I have had trouble with them in the past and being that each structures' machines are slightly different, my having to use one of them would have put more of a learning curve on my morning’s outing than I cared to deal with. So I drove on and found a metered parking spot on the street. It was just easier.

After feeding a few quarters into the meter, I started thinking about this new parking situation as I walked towards the farmers' market. So what happened to all the cashiers that used to work in this and the other city structures? Were they assisted in finding new jobs when they were replaced by these machines? Or were they just added to the already overflowing pool of unemployed labor? Did the Trendy City’s management even think of them at all before they laid them off? And where is the money going that is saved by not having to pay cashiers? Did the parking rates go down? I don’t think so.

I walked through the farmers' market and browsed its expensive eco-farmed produce and artisan crafted gourmet foods. I found myself less interested in buying than I had been when when I first arrived. Who can afford any of this? Certainly not the numbers of homeless folks I saw squatting on the edge of the market grounds and rattling their begging cups at the other market patrons. I have nothing against the food producers making a living and people enjoying locally grown and sustainable foods. After all, that’s why I made the trek. This time, though, I could see a drama of the haves and have-nots being played out over the brussels sprouts and pomegranates -- something I had seen many times before but had never really noticed.

As I wandered around, I stopped in a parking structure to study the instructions on one of the new pay machines. I wanted to figure out how it worked and how much it cost for the next time I visited. The machine was fairly straight forward to use, but one thing struck me: there was no place to make a payment with cash. It only took cards.

I do have plastic, but I don’t like to use cards any more than necessary. Using cash and not using plastic (even a debit card) is my way of living within my means. When my weekly allowance of paper and coins runs out, then I stop spending.

Then another thought occurred to me: those folks of even lesser means who do not have the luxury of credit lines or even checking accounts -- how do they come here and pay?

Then I glanced at the high-end luxury car parked near the pay machine. Ah. They don’t.

The awareness that had germinated a few minutes earlier at the farmers' market suddenly bloomed into a full epiphanal moment: I did not belong there, either physically and morally. I cannot, in good conscience, be a part of a world that flaunts the MORE and bars access to it at the expense of the world that must endure the LESS.

So I walked back to my fifteen-year-old rattle-trap car and high-tailed it back to the neighborhood where I grew up, a blue-collar enclave on the edge of the Trendy City. I drove to a small neighborhood grocery market just two blocks from the Projects to buy my vegetables. At the market the parking is free and uncomplicated and transactions can still be made with cash.

And I even spoke to a real-live cashier.

ljgloyd (c) 2011

El Dia de los Muertos

The Day of the Dead celebration, El Dia de los Muertos, is a practice that goes back thousands of years in the cultures of the indigenous peoples of Mexico and Central America. When the Europeans came to this area, the celebration was blended with the observance of All Saints Day and All Souls Day on November 1 and 2. Elements of pre-Christian and Christian symbols were merged and the celebration became one where the observant remember their deceased loved ones. Today this celebration is observed in many Latin American countries as well as Latin American communities in North America.

I came across this Day of the Dead altar in my community. Passerbys were invited to write messages on pieces of cloth to honor and remember their loved ones and pin them to the altar. On the altar are marigolds which were sacred flowers to the ancient Aztecs, comical skeletons as a reminder that death is not to be feared, candles to represent life and hope, incense to purify the space, food as an offering to the deceased, and crosses to show that Jesus has triumphed over death.

ljgloyd (c) 2011, originally published 2009

Aioli and Mindful Living

A couple of nights ago, I watched an episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations where he visits Provence. I had been looking forward to this episode all week. This is odd because I have never been to Provence, have no plans to go to Provence, and have had no particular interest in the cooking of Provence. Rather, I think it is the idea of Provence that I found so alluring. Mr. Bourdain, in fact, does address the reason why many people find the notion of living in Provence appealing. In the episode, he has a conversation with his hosts where he says:

Everyone in some child-like way craves a life of simplicity where they have a garden, beautiful sun, where they can walk into a small town and everyone will know them and wave...

That's it. He nailed it. There is something appealing about the simple life, something that many of us find so desirous as we struggle with the break-neck speed of daily urban life. What some of us desire, even if we don't realize it, is to live more mindfully. That is, we actually want to walk through life more slowly, gently, with great focus and attention.

This concept is explored in a segment of the episode where an elderly woman demonstrated the art of making aioli, an emulsified garlic sauce traditionally made with stone mortar and pestle. Mr. Bourdain made this comment about aioli-making:

It's very gentle, the process...You gotta be careful. You have to keep your voice down. Show a little respect for the process...

After watching this episode, I began thinking about making some aioli myself -- for no other reason except that spreading fresh aioli all over some fish, bread and vegetables sounded delicious. I did a mental inventory of my pantry: I have fresh garlic, olive oil, a lemon, and a mortar and pestle. I could do this. Then I began trolling the internet for recipes and found everything from the highly convoluted (chipotle aioli made with mayonaise... eeewwww) to the plain and easy. Finally, I found a video on YouTube demonstrating the simple traditional method, and I committed the process to memory.

When I got home from work, I found my mortar and pestle, got out my best extra virgin olive oil and sea salt, peeled three large garlic cloves, and sliced an oh-so-tiny sliver of lemon.

Then I began to grind the garlic with a scant pinch of salt, softly and gently, just like the elderly woman. I worked with focus and commitment. I shut out the sound of cars passing by my front door and imagined myself in a country kitchen. I imagined using my own home-grown garlic, which I recently planted in a relative's garden. With great deliberation I added drops of lemon juice and olive oil and continued grinding. I fell into a rhythmic motion: grind, grind, drops of oil, grind, grind, drops of juice. About 10 minutes later I had a couple of tablespoons of thick, silky smooth, sunny yellow paste.

I sliced and toasted some fresh bread, still in a mindful state and fully relaxed after a long day at the office. I took a spoonful of the aioli, slathered it on a hot piece of toast and took a nibble. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. Fresh aioli, created with so much quiet attention and mindfulness, has a unexpected bite and kick. It flung me out of my semi-zen state and back to normal time and space.

Garlic has a way of keeping things real.

So, my point is telling you this is to encourage you to find a routine task, anything, even vacuuming or washing your car, and do it slowly and attentively, with the goal of attaining a simpler, less stressful life, at least for a few minutes.

I know, it's not Provence, but maybe its a road in the right direction.

ljgloyd (c) 2011, originally published 3/24/2010.

PS: Here is the video I found on YouTube showing a traditional method of making aioli:

Everybody Dance Now!

The dance motif often shows up in my writing and artwork, though I’m certainly not a dancer. No, I don’t have the elegant athleticism of a ballerina or the pixie-build of a Dancing With the Stars hoofer. Yet, when I turn on music in the privacy of my living room and start bee-bopping to the beat, I become like all the women who ever danced in their tents in front of their sisters, mothers, aunts, and cousins. Those voluptuous women of ancient times, with curves only childbearing or age can give them, danced to celebrate births, marriages and sometimes just for the fun of it.

Sometimes they danced to connect themselves to the source of all things. In a qigong class I took a few months ago, the instructor gave us an exercise. We were to slightly bend our knees and begin rocking in a circular movement while at the same time rotating our arms in front of us like we were stirring a cauldron. The purpose of this was to visualize stirring up energy from the earth to invigorate our own internal energy. With all of us in the studio doing this together, it felt like a dance. It was invigorating because I felt as if I had tapped a deep vein at the source of my being.

All of us can “dance” like this. Even the simplest movements can touch this energy. Another qigong movement is to stand in place and gently bounce by lifting and dropping the heels ever-so-slightly. It is a barely a movement, but it can uplift and energize.

So ladies, and gentlemen too, it’s time to start dancing, even if it is only a bounce.

Take a look at this video of the Fat Chance BellyDance women. These ladies know what I’m talking about. Feel free to get up and dance along.



ljgloyd (c) 2011, originally published by the author 12/4/2010.