Pineapple Orange Juice

It’s been a year since my last post. This morning, I woke up and read all the posts I wrote over a year ago and was filled with so much joy and amazement about all the memories I captured about my life through recipes. I forgot how much I live through food and friends wrapped around a table laughing and enjoying each other’s company. At my last apartment, I didn’t have the space to hold dinner parties or cook up new inventions in the kitchen. It was honestly one of the toughest living situations of my life, which taught me a lot about myself and others, and I have never been happier to move into a new apartment.

This last year I have been learning how to grow through conflict. I didn’t realize how stuck I was in flight, fight, or freeze mode when it came to issues that came up. This year, I have started to find out how to show up in conflict with an open heart. How to listen without identifying my behavior with other people’s interpretations. Breath has helped me create space between a person’s reaction to my actions. This year has been about rooting myself back into my body and claiming space to the feelings that I choose to have.

It’s just Kevin and I now in our new home and a window full of plants. The upstairs neighbors came by yesterday and were amazed at how well our plants were growing. It makes me happy to know that I am not letting my grandmother down. As a florist, her house was always brimming with new life – pouring from the window sills and a giant garden. Even my great grandparents harvested vegetables from their land. We have a family of green thumbs and old Kentucky and Oklahoma farmers who moved West.

Sometimes, my cousins will share pictures of their gardens back in California or my sister will send me photos of her succulent wreaths – and it’s in those moments that I know that the family traditions are still alive and well.

The last two years have been years of transition. This summer I did more sitting meditation and yoga then I have ever done in my life. I trail ran with my partner and worked harder than I ever have before. As fall is starting to make its way into September – I can feel the dust starting to settle. The hot and fiery summer days are ending and giving way to cool mornings and quiet nights. I am writing more and filling my life with books that will ground me and continue to help me grow.

I just started rereading Crazy Wisdom  by Chogyam Trungpa, which is focused on teaching about an innocent state of mind that has the quality of early morning spring – or complete awakeness. It has been resonating with me because sometimes transition and conflict are painful. Chogyam Trungpa explores ways in which we can appreciate pain, confusion, or challenging opportunities as an opportunity to wake up – to discover new things we never knew about ourselves.

In this book he says that the approach involves “digging into life’s irritations, diving into the irritations and making a home out of them.” He says, “If we are able to make a home out of those irritations, then the irritations become a source of great joy, of transcendental joy, because there is no pain involved at all. This kind of joy is no longer related with pain or contrasted with pain at all. So the whole thing becomes precise and sharp and understandable, and we are able to relate with it.”

The last four months I have had the privilege to be a work study student at Akasha Yoga Studio and I am headed over there today to celebrate International Karma Yoga Day. This morning I can feel myself appreciating this moment and leaning forward to all the exciting moments that this fall will bring. I am excited to be back to writing, to waking up, to opening up my kitchen and hosting dinner parties late into the night.

– Pineapple Orange Juice –

ingredients.
-1/2 Pineapple
-1/2 orange
-1/2 plantain
–1/2 apple
-1/2 lemon
-1/2 lime
-1 inch of ginger
-1/2 cup cilantro 

directions.
Cut up all of the delicious veggies so they are small enough until they are small enough to pop into your juicer. Juice it up & enjoy!

On Love.

The other night I came home to my new housemate sleeping on my bed, wagging her tail, waiting for me to pull the covers over myself. September is always a time for new beginnings. I thumb my rose quartz on the train to work this morning and think of all the new starts this year. I don’t know if it’s just me, but sometimes when I get out of bed in the morning I think, “Hey, who is the stranger in the mirror? How the heck did I get to be this old? Where are my underwear?” In all seriousness, where am I going?

I say these questions out loud to myself when nobody is around, maybe because I enjoy talking to myself, OR maybe because it reminds me to keep moving, pushing, and changing.

Reading on the train to work has become ritual. I have perfected the art of reading a book two inches from my face, crammed up against the door, or nestled inside somebody’s armpit. This summer I stumbled into All About Love by bell hooks, who builds off of M. Scott Peck’s definition of love. He defines love as,

“The will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.”

I grew up knowing love as mystery, magic, folklore. In college as I tried to talk about love – how to engage in loving relationships and how to nurture love in my life – I think I had it all wrong. Maybe, I will say that again about myself in another 5-10 years OR maybe I will be impressed with the effort I am putting in now to understand that which has been misunderstood for so long.

For now I am building off this definition that Peck & hooks have given me.

That love is a verb. Love is an action.

This afternoon I am asking myself, “What have I done today that shows love to others?”

-Refried Black Beans, Sweet Potato & Nutritional Yeast Quesadilla-

ingredients.

refried black beans
– one can black beans, drained & rinsed
– 2 cloves of garlic
– 1/4 cup onion
– handful of cilantro
– 1 lime, juiced
– 2 tbs olive oil
– water
– salt
– hot sauce

sweet potatoes
– 2 large sweet potatoes, peeled & diced
– 1/2 cup rolled oats
– 1 tbs nutritional yeast
– 1 tbs flax seed

kale
– 4-6 stems of kale
– 1 tbs olive oil
– pinch of salt

process.
In a pan, heat olive oil & add onion and garlic. Cook for 2-3 minutes, or until the onion is translucent. Add beans and cover with water. Cook until water is mostly absorbed and add cilantro, lime, a pinch of salt, and your choice of hot sauce if you would like them to be spicy. Mash beans until mostly smooth. Set aside.

In a separate pan, heat olive oil. Add kale & salt. Cover until kale is cooked down and lightly toasted. Set aside.

In a large pot bring water to boil. Once water is boiling place sweet potatoes and cook until tender, about 10-15 minutes. Drain & place in large bowl. Use a fork to mash the potatoes until smooth. Add rolled oats, nutritional yeast, and flax seed, set aside.

In a tortilla, spread sweet potatoes, refried black beans, and top with kale. Add pico de gallo, flax seeds, avocados, lettuce, or any other of your favorite vegetables. Top with nutritional yeast and cook in a pan until brown on both sides.

Recipe for guacamole & vegan sour cream coming soon…

Beating Heart.

Running shoes.

Shorts.

Socks.

Keys.

Running is one of the only things that has ever made sense to me. I cannot believe how alive & still my body feels while pawing at dirt trail and sweating up the spine of mountains. I did not know it at the time, but I grew up in one of the most beautiful areas of the country. High up in the mountains with valleys, peaks, and vistas that people flock to for vacation.

Running is metaphor. Once you exist between two seemingly unrelated objects – like a forest that is so beautiful, but is brimming with people who call your body sick – you learn how to wrap yourself into the tightest ball. At eighteen, I flew 3,000 miles across the country for college – not because I was in love with Boston, but because I was afraid of what I would become in a forest filled with people who were metabolizing queers into dirt.

I run to feel alive. To feel the quiet in my head that is early morning ocean – before any human dares to break its waves. I am still running, but I am remembering now that my family taught me how to root. To sink my hands & feet into soil until I know this body is made stronger by the efforts to unmake it.

On my run today – I told myself that this body is strength. That queer bodies are beautiful in every way. For lunch, I gobble up mangos, plantains, beets, avocados, almonds. They are filling me with nourishment.

I am writing affirmations in my notebook:

Queer people are beautiful.
Queer people are beautiful.
We are beautiful.

– Mango & Avocado Salad –

ingredients.
-1 mango, peeled & diced
-1 avocado, diced
-1 plantain, diced
-1 beet, peeled & diced
-1/2 cup almonds, chopped
– 1 tbs chia seeds
– 1 tbs golden flax seeds
– 1 lemon, juiced
– 1 inch ginger, finely chopped
– 1/4 cup coconut raw flakes 
– 1 cup cilantro

process.
In a large bowl, gently mix together mango, avocado, plantain, and beets. Be sure to mix lately, so as not to smash the avocado or the plantain. Mix in chia seeds, golden flax, lemon, ginger, coconut flakes, and cilantro. Refrigerate (if you would like it cold) and enjoy!

Kale Smoothies. Breakfast Quinoa. Vegan Month of Food.

Saturday rolls around and my body is ready for the slow & lazy weekend of time spent catching up with loved ones, but for us city dwellers who are bound by September 1st leases – Labor Day is all about movement.

It has been a year & a summer since I graduated from college and I am in disbelief that I am moving to a new home. This year, my life is process. It is about finding space & openness in tight moments. As I am packing up my books, kitchen utensils, and bedding, I am caught thinking about all the unforgettable memories shared in this house – from early morning tea on the porch with visitors to small dinner potlucks with close friends to late night vegan parties with music, laughter, and love.

This September, I am filled with gratitude for all the beautiful people who have been in my life this year – cheering me on, holding me up during the moments I am most vulnerable. As I drive away from my old house for the last time I am thinking about a conversation with a loved one, where we talked about the meaning of home. Home, for us travelers & wanderers, being something that we make from our bodies – from thin air – from smoke, and late night dancing, and early morning solitude.

Today, I am thinking about how experimentation and spontaneity are essential life forces. The unexpected, being what humbles and grounds me in the present. This morning, the 4:00 am alarm is calling my tired limbs from bed. I drive my partner to the airport, but he ends up taking my keys with him to Texas and all I can do is laugh.

It is 5:00 am and I am waiting for my roommates to wake-up so that I can get into the house. I am sitting on the deck and scrolling through my phone for the 10 best ways to break into your own home. At some point, I give in to the messiness of this morning – the unexpected – and as I sit I can feel the situation opening up. My mind slowly easing its grip on the situation and my frustration until I am able to see it is another event in the week – an opportunity for growth & learning.

I would have (of course) preferred not to have been locked out, but the situation is. In my head, there are so many to-do-lists that they are starting to look like a notepad, a novel, an ancient tome.

I am slowly walking back from attachment, from my fixation on what I think should be. This month, is Vegan Month of Food & I can feel the slow growing anxiety about trying to make 20 recipes, but when I take a step back. Slow down. Breath. Be present in this morning. Be present in the slow rise of the sun & water peeling way from grass.

I can feel my body waking up with the earth – with the here & now.

– Sweet Kale Smoothie –

 

ingredients.
– 1 yellow plantain, chopped
– 1 guava, peeled & seeded
– two handfuls of kale
– 1 tsp chlorella
– 2 tsp chia seeds
– 1 tsp maca powder
– 2 tbs golden flax seeds
– 1/4 cup almonds
– 1/4 cup sunflower seeds
– 1/4 cup almond milk
– 24 oz water

process.
In a blender, place yellow plantain, guava, two handfuls of kale. Add chia seeds, maca powder, flax seeds, almonds, sunflower seeds, almond milk, and water. Blend until smooth. Enjoy!

– Almond & Strawberry Breakfast Quinoa –

ingredients.
– 1 cup quinoa
– 2 cups almond milk
– 2 tbs brown sugar
– 2 tsp cinnamon 
– 1/4 cup chopped almonds, pistachios, and/or cashews
– sprinkle of flax seeds
– handful of fresh fruit (I used strawberries)

process.
In a small pot, place quinoa and almond milk. Bring to boil. Reduce to simmer & cover for 15-20 minutes. Once the almond milk is mostly cooked into the quinoa, mix in the brown sugar and cinnamon. Cook for 15-20 more minutes until almond milk is completely cooked into quinoa. 

Remove from heat and serve with fresh fruit and flax seeds. Add vegan butter, coconut, or more almond milk (if you like)!

Coconut Sun-Dried Tomato Pesto.

In Massachusetts, August is the sweat-end of summer. This morning I woke up with the ocean in my chest. The city can not hold the parts of myself that long for nature – late nights on the water, bonfires in the woods, and dinner out on the porch. Last January, I became an uncle for the first time. I flew back to California to see my sister and my nephew, Evan. He was so small. His hands and feet tucking into his body, like leaves on a thick stem. It was beautiful to see my sister, the small girl climbing trees with me in thunderstorms while daring the wind to blow us clean off the branch, now a mother. She is patient and calm and rooted.

The house smells like it is blossoming with life.

This week, when we talk on the phone my nephew is no longer the little potato that I first saw. He is growing and laughing and dreaming. My father sends me a photograph of him with my childhood stuffed animal. In this moment, holding the photograph of Evan in one hand and my heart in the other, I know that there is so much more of myself I have yet to give.

My friend is leaving for London in a few days and we wake up early to see the sun bleeding into the daytime. We pull over near the ocean, where the sunrise is pushing back the night. Four years ago, we were children in college that were playing adults by learning how to speak of important things and now we are adults playing children in the early belly of the sun.

On the train to work today, everyone is gone. My best friend, settled in new city, and the person who I love traveling for work. I pull out my calendar to quickly process any last minute meetings. I am longing for the slow and drawn out slack-line of summer. A longing that is the same force that brings the ocean back to the shoreline.

As the train pulls into my stop, I cannot help but wonder how much of me is still a little boy, sitting in the tree during a thunderstorm, daring the lightning to speak my name.

— Coconut Sun-Dried Tomato Pesto —

– 1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes
– 1 cup fresh basil
-1/4 cup almonds
– 1/4 unsalted raw sunflower seeds
– 1/4 cup coconut oil
– 4 tbs lemon juice
– 1 tbs nutritional yeast
– 1 tbs flax seed

In a food processor, purée sun-dried tomatoes, basil, almonds, sunflower seeds, and lemon juice. Mix. Add nutritional yeast and flax seeds! Spread on toast with avocado and enjoy!! 

Dedication(s) & Homebrewed Kombucha

“Things have a life of their own,” the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls.” – Gabriel Garcia Marquez –

1. To sit longer on the floor and listen to my heartbeat.

2. To quiet my mind listen to my friends’ voices, all of them, beautiful and strong, everyday.

3. To love with my whole body.

I find myself writing a lot of lists these days – groceries, priorities at work, cleaning duties, bills to pay, and phone calls that are overdue. I wrote the above list down yesterday afternoon while riding on the bus. I needed a list that spoke to practices of which I am dedicating myself.

The garden is birthing life right before our eyes. I caught a glimpse of a bee this morning gathering nectar from a squash flower. It amazes me that I am cultivating this vegetable garden in the city, where there are no mountains or dense forests or groves for miles. The neighbors sometimes watch me as a I drag the hose out front and tenderly check the progress of the sunflower and morning glories. They probably know I move to slow to be made of city. That my bones are crafted from tangled oak wood and sweet peas from my childhood.

I think the sun makes everything feel like a dream. Yesterday, my friends and I played soccer & had a picnic in the park. There was a long line of trees with an altar-like area at the end. I suggested to my friends that we should have a ceremony there – that we need to continue to imagine & dream of the communities in which we want to participate. I am trying to keep my imagination alive. To remind myself that somewhere in my skin is a little child dreaming of magic, climbing trees and covering myself in earth.

Last night we drove up to the lake & willfully ignored the signs for “No Swimming” – in New England there are more rules than my body is able to follow without feeling like a container of the state. We floated in the water & watched the sun go down. We talked about how in water – our bodies, as well as our thoughts, feel so much lighter and how it helps us forget the heaviness of living.

I am fixated on birth these days. Maybe it is from being a new uncle, or maybe it is how I am mesmerized with the process of birth as both a beginning, middle, and end. I think my life is full of this feeling – of always being in the three places at once, or none of them all at the same time.

As the sun went down the water was jet black & touched the tail end of the sky and stretched on for what seemed like forever. For a second, I sat in between the space where there is no beginning, middle, and end. There just is, without any question, what has always been there.

My soul, waking up to the life of its own.

— Homebrewed Kombucha: 5 Different Ways –

ingredients.
– 1 mother SCOBY (instructions on how to make one yourself below)
-1 gallon water
-1 cup sugar
– 6-8 tea bags (black, oolong, green, herbal)

material(s).
– 1 gallon glass jar OR holding vessel
– 1 large pot to boil water
– cheesecloth
– strainer
– juicer (optional)

directions.
The first thing you are going to need is a SCOBY. A couple of years ago I was a neglectful SCOBY parent and mine molded and I was forced to get rid of it. I read somewhere online that you can buy a bottle of kombucha, drink it about halfway, cover the top with cheese cloth, and leave it out for a bit of time and a SCOBY will develop. After about 2-3 weeks of waiting this worked for me! I started out with G.T.’s Kombucha and worked my way from there.

Once you have your SCOBY you are all set to get brewing! In a large pot, boil 1 gallon of water. Some people prefer using distilled water, but I just use regular old tap water and nothing has happened to me yet…Once the water has boiled place 6-8 tea bags and let steep for 5-7 minutes. While the tea is steeping, mix in 1 cup of sugar until dissolved.

Pour the tea and sugar into a one gallon container. Let cool to room temperature. If you place the SCOBY in while the water is hot it will kill your SCOBY, and then you may be sad/frustrated/confused. I suggest doing laundry, going for a run, reading, working on an art project – anything except frequently checking the temperature.

Once the mixture has cooled, add SCOBY and leftover Kombucha. You will want to always keep your SCOBY and about 1 1/2 cups of Kombucha to use as a starter liquid for every batch. Cover with cheesecloth and let stand for 2-3 weeks, until you have carbonation and a deep amber color. Bottle in sterilized glass jars and enjoy 🙂

If you prefer flavored Kombucha, such as lemon, ginger, apple, or kale…you may want to partake in a second fermentation process. Once you have poured the Kombucha into jars add the juice of a lemon, a thumb-size of ginger, an apple, or handful of kale. Seal & let sit on the counter for 2-3 days. Refrigerate once done & enjoy!!!

Coconut Plantain Dark Chocolate Cookies.

There isn’t a day that goes by in our apartment that a tea kettle isn’t whistling. As a kid, we owned a cast iron kettle that we would put on our wood stove. During the cold months, this is how we rewarmed our baths or made hot chocolate after snow storms. I remember how salt residue would build on its surface and once the sun came out my mom would brush it clean, just in time to be put back to use again.

In Massachusetts, our kettle is giving life to a drawer full of teas. Drawing our friends together over afternoon or late night conversations. It is cleaned every so often and it serves as a meeting place in our lives. On Saturday morning, we stumble out of bed later than we should – or earlier than we would like to – and shuffle around the kettle with cold feet waiting for the comforting whistle and pour of hot water.

This morning, the city is underwater. The rain crept in over the past few days and has pushed us all back inside. Last night, I ran through the rain to my friend’s car and the water was pooling around my ankles – crawling over every inch of dry skin. Warm summer rain is a baptism – I think – a washing out of our bodies.

I have been thinking about the role of fear a lot lately – how it leaves us silenced and isolated, how it hides the most important parts of ourselves, how it leaves us broken and confused. I am meeting the rain today, not with the hope of leaving everything behind, but to expose the parts of myself I am most apt to run from – fear, neurosis, sadness, and the assortment of bad behaviors I have learned over time.

In the kitchen, I am relearning how to be present in my body. Hands wrist deep in coconut flour feeling every wrinkle and crease of skin brush across bowl. The windows are open and the world smells of summer – like my grandmother’s garden in San Jose coughing up tomatoes and apricots – like bitter dark chocolate waiting to be mixed into dough – like home, the kind that I built from my own skin.

Beside me stands the memory of my grandmother showing me how to measure flour, to pour sugar, to mix, to bake, to cool, to store, to garden, to care for myself and others, to build community, to love, to love, to love, to love in the kind of way that isn’t owned by anyone.

— Coconut Plantain Dark Chocolate Cookies —

ingredients.
– 1 large sweet plantain, chopped & mashed
– 1 cup coconut flour
– 1/4 cup unsweetened (organic) applesauce
– 1/4 cup raw sugar
– 1 tsp vanilla extract
– 1 tsp pure maple syrup
– 8 tbs almond milk
– 6 pieces finely chopped dark chocolate
– Pinch of salt

instructions.
Preheat the over to 350° and line baking sheet with parchment paper. Finely chop 6 pieces of dark chocolate, set aside.

In a small bowl mash the sweet plantain until smooth. Add applesauce and raw sugar, mix. Stir in vanilla and maple syrup. In a medium bowl, mix together coconut flour and a pinch of salt. Add the plantain mixture and stir until completely mixed. Slowly add the almond milk one spoonful at a time until you have the proper consistency. The dough should not crumble easily, nor should it stick to your fingers. Scoop a bit up and squeeze it together to check! Mix in your chopped chocolate!

Roll into spoonfuls, place onto prepared baking sheet, and cook for 12 – 15 min. Enjoy with a glass of almond milk (or tea)!

Yesterday morning I woke up and everything was out of place. My journal was open face under my bed, my running shoes in a bag from two weeks ago I had forgot to empty, and my yoga mat had fallen over in the corner and was collecting dust like a high school trophy. There are some mornings I swear that my limbs are tipped over freight trucks. There are mornings where my mouth can tear the whole world down before I have put a single toe out of the front door.

For the past month, I have been watching the steady marching on of spring. I first noticed it in the green buds that appeared on the trees like paint specks. Occasionally, the neighbors and I catch each other checking their progress. We are determining if it is really spring or just a heat wave in the middle of winter. In New England, the weather teaches you to distrust the first sign of warmth.

I walk to work on a road lined with trees. This morning, I found a man still as stone. His hands gathering tree limbs and blossoms like gold. He was burying his nose in their belly buttons. His eyes shut tight with wonder and his mouth hanging lopsided and loose like a hammock. In this moment – there were no out of place sentimental objects, no missed calls from family, no bills left unpaid because I cannot pay them – there was just this man, swallowing spring.

Flashback to a few weeks ago. I am asleep on my belly at 10 pm because I don’t believe in staying up ’till midnight. There is a breeze coming through the open window and I am dreaming of an ocean filled with everyone I love. Each wave brings someone new. My friend Erin floats up and I cannot tell where her tears begin and the ocean starts.

There is no dream. There is no ocean. I only know how to explain heartbreak through metaphor. I am standing barefoot on the sidewalk and she is emptying the ocean into my chest. Heartbreak feels like the weight of a whole ocean pressing onto your face. A few weeks ago, the dog our house loves passed away unexpectedly and I am still finding the words to describe this story. I lifted her body into the car, stood barefoot by her side as we said our last goodbyes. Eva was our best friend (most days), the biggest pain the butt (some days), and continues to teach us lessons even though she is gone. Her memory sits inside our hearts like a pearl.

Tonight I came home after a long day and fished my journal out from under my bed, dusted off my running shoes for when my injury gets better, and rolled out my yoga mat.

I am barefoot. I am opening my windows and burning incense. I am touching my forehead to the floor in humility for all this life has given me and for what it continues to teach me along the way. I am grieving with my body. I am learning to breath through pain. I am gathering the blossoms outside my window and pulling them into my lungs. Tonight, I am dedicating my practice to Eva – the one who taught us all how to love one another until our bodies give out.

Queer Carrot Juice.

I went home to California a few weeks ago for my sister’s birthday and to see my first (and brand new) nephew. After five years of living in Boston, going back to California was an experience. The air, the earth & the people inexplicably different. Sometimes, I amazed that this entire landmass is a country. There are cultural similarities, including language, but sometimes its hard to pick out where the differences end and the similarities start.

It had been over a year since I was home & I had a lot of stuff I wanted to bring back to Boston. At home I snagged my juicer that my sister and I bought when I was about eighteen. I cannot imagine the looks that TSA gave each other when they found a juicer in my checked bag. I also packed my favorite blanket my mom made me when I was a kid, a bunch of clothes I had left behind, some speakers so we could fill my house back in Boston with more music, and my bicycle. Yes, my bicycle.

It’s been snowing a lot these days. I think winter is more than skin deep. I think winter is not just weather, but a state of being. I have been working too much and sleeping too little. I have been quiet a lot lately, afraid that the more I speak the more winter will fall out of my mouth.

I have been forcing myself out of the house lately. I went to a workshop yesterday on abolishing the prison industrial complex and it made me think of all the important work that is left to do. All of the conversations, people, families & friends impacted by systems trying to beat winter into them.

I look at other food/vegan blogs and I wonder if their identities matter in this way to them. If they are confronting privilege & oppression via their work or if they find their food separate from this. I am looking at my own work and wondering how the politics of my identity will continue to influence what I do, if it will be something I am able to wrap my ahead around.

I want my work to not only give people access to healthy plant-based meals, but to also talk about the way in which veganism and queer culture intersect in my life. I look at many of the other vegan blogs, written (well) by heterosexual white women, and I wonder where my space is in this world.

Being queer, is not just a gender or an orientation, its a state of being.

— Carrot Juice for Liberation —

ingredients.
-8-10 carrots
-1-2 beets
– 1 orange (whatever variety)
– 1 apple (preferably Macintosh or something sweet, unless you like sour)

directions.
Peel the carrots and chop off the ends. Put into juicer.
Peel beet(s) and chop off the end(s). Put into juicer.
Peel the orange. Put into juicer.
Chop the apple up. Put into juicer.

Poetry & Kale Smoothies.

You think, the whole world will collapse if you can’t finish this, right here.

The way you started.

Simple, knowing nothing but the stretch of your own limbs.

You pick things up just put them down again.

The worn out starter on your dad’s truck is

humming somewhere over the skyline of Boston.

Make yourself into something to remember, you whisper into the air at night.

Your bones keep restitching themselves back to the earth without your permission.

You feel like an impostor, at best, when you are forced into dress clothes.

Talk like this, they show you, lips pressed into an arc of beauty you don’t know how to make on your own.

–

You can make on your own.

The way the ocean keeps spitting salt onto the coast.

Take me for what I am, it says.

Remember me this way – the endless worry that I am.

–

In California, I am stuck somewhere in a walnut tree with my sister,

barely big enough to wrap my hands around its branches.

There are silk worms on the top of the tree – spinning fast.

I envy their certainty. I wonder if I will ever know what it means to be so certain.

–

There is more doublespeak in my dreams than dreams.

I want to make myself into a sturdy boat,

but I am a bit shaky down to my feet.

I am held back by the language of my kind.

–

In Oklahoma, there is a one room school house

where my great grandmother buried her dreams.

I am digging them out from a leaky cellar in Boston.

I am wearing them like a promise.

–

In my pockets, I keep

my great grandmother’s crochet hook,

my papa’s cigarettes and

an orchid from my ole grandma’s garden.

–

I will finish this for all of them, just the way it started.

Their story is my ragged wallet,

the Oklahoma windstorm in my chest,

my love for the smell of smoked out flannel.

–

I am here now because they imagined a life beyond themselves.

I am bringing them with me.

I am daring not to let them down.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–

–Food for Good Energy: Kale Smoothie–

ingredients.

-fistful kale
-fistful romaine lettuce
-three celery stalks
-handful of broccoli
-1 apple
-1 lemon
-1/2 cup water
-1 cup almond milk
-2 tbs almond butter

Stick it all into a blender and mix it up!