1. Day 48
2. sweet, juicy watermelon
3. laughing at squirrles chasing each other at the park
4. a walk with a friend
5. adorable Gracie
6. a comfy bed
7. two sweet kitties that make me smile
8. air conditioning on a humid day
9. waking up
10. Mary had a little...Sheep!
African drumming has become one of my favorite new activities, for a multitude of reasons. I initially started attending an informal class about two months ago, with the sole purpose of finding an activity that engaged my body more than my mind. Drumming is just that. The moment I start to think about what I am doing I immediately become out of sync with the other drummers. Drumming makes a part of me come alive like nothing else. I don't know if it is the ancient rhythms, the consistent beat that is much like the heart beat of the music, the connection to Africa. I'm not entirely sure, but I love it!
Last week we played a 'Moribayassa.' This rhythm originated in West Africa and is a strictly female experience. A woman who is facing great difficulties or challenges dances the Moribayassa in order to work out her problem and search for an answer. This is a community event and drummers follow behind the woman as she treks the perimeter of the village several times. She begins her journey dressed in dirty rags and by the end of the ritual she is wearing a new dress, signifying new life and the resolution to her problem. The rags of clothing are laid to rest under the Moribayassa, the great mango tree, within the village.
So, I am not much of a recipe follower. This realization comes with its pros and cons.
Pros:
*I can feel free in the kitchen, as opposed to being locked in by the steps of a recipe
*When I correctly complete a recipe, I am ecstatically proud of myself, no matter how simple the task
*Forget the recipes, let's just see what I can create out of certain ingredients
Cons:
*One might be fearful fo receiving care from a nurse who has trouble following simple directions. No fear, food measurements and med measurements are two very different things.
*I've had more failed recipes than I care to admit
*Grocery bill
So today, I was curious how brown rice, edamame and craisins would taste mixed together. I am a sucker for a sweet/savory combo. Actually it turned out amazingly well and I get to be proud of my creation.
Here's the recipe-Carli style:
Cooked brown rice-you can figure out how much you want
Steamed edamame-used a bag of already shelled
Bag of craisins
Mix together, add sea salt to taste.
In separate bowl-combine honey, rice vinegar and olive oil. I don't measure, so just pour until it tastes good to you. Whisk together and then pour over the rice mixture.
Enjoy!
The celebration will last 24 hrs but the hurt seems to never end. Mother's Day is just six days away and I hope to breathe a bit easier on May 10. At times, the pain is so severe that last Mother's Day seems like a dream. Did it really happen? The little one was just four months old and was the love of my life. Everything seemed to be going so well. Yeah, we had bumps along the way, but I was so thankful to be reconnected. Now, just 365 days later, I can only hold on to memories and be thankful for the amazing women that are in my life.
Happy Mother's Day.
I am in awe of the elasticity of the human spirit
how it can stretch wide
paper thin
let people in
slide our pain
out of our grieving
heaving hearts
and let it land
heavy and true
in the gentle hands
of this loving space
a gift spun of
shared sorrows
of threads of experience
we wish did not connect us,
bind us
tie us, together
in this long march
for a justice that is our birthright
stolen
behind closed doors
slammed shut by
individuals' and society's
discomfort
with dirty truths.
They say a spider's web
is stronger than its equivalent in steel
I believe in this
delicate haven we've
woven tonight
and hope teardrops
become prisms
to reflect the morning's sun
because morning will come
and we will be there to rise with it.
-by Jean Leonard, PhD.
90% of child sexual abuse is committed by someone known, trusted or related to the child.
Provincial elections are set to begin in Sudan next week. Elections that have been in the works since at least 2005. An election would be a breakthrough for this devastated country. But now it's falling apart and it will probably only get worse. The government thrives on intimidation and threats, making empty promises to people desperate for relief. Civil war will likely resume and many more will be killed. Evidently more than 2 million dead isn't enough. Women and young girls raped, children mutilated, little boys taken into slavery, families burned alive in their huts. No war is okay, acceptable or justified. But war in Sudan is brutal, unfathomable, possibly the closest thing to hell on earth.
I have seen the faces of those who survived war. I have walked through a village that was bombed, raided and burned to the ground. I have seen people drinking contaminated and disease laden river water because dead bodies were placed in their clean water wells. I have seen young children with stick figure bodies and protruding bellies due to severe malnutrition and protein deficiency. I've held babies too dehydrated to muster a cry. I've seen a grandmother attempt to produce milk from her own breast for her orphaned grandson. I've met men, with tribal symbols etched into their foreheads, who tell stories of men on horseback who rode through the marketplace and killed everyone in sight. I have cared for a mother and her newborn, all the while wondering how this mother can love her fifth baby when the previous four have died due to entirely preventable and treatable reasons. I learned that a mother is a mother anywhere in the world. A mother who has experienced such grief and loss is still capable of loving again. Even more surprising to me, she loves without condition and without limit. She loves her baby everyday of its life, not knowing if tomorrow will be the last. Loving and nurturing her little one, her touch is gentle and her heart is full.
I hope someone cares.
