Sunday, August 04, 2013

farmers market

Yesterday, before slogging away at more shop drawings, Dirk, Bennie and I went to the local farmers market. There was a vague plan of getting really fresh onions for Julia Child's French Onion Soup and also some really fresh potatoes (the kind that crack when cut in half) for dinner. Knowing we had to pick up one errant Youth from an overnight at a friend's, we texted Ian if there was anything he wanted  us to buy ~ coffee and some kinda fish. Nix on the coffee, but we got flounder for the four of us to dine on later. (Tom and his girlfriend, Nell, are visiting an uncle in the Big City. He doesn't care for fish ~ so he wasn't missing out.) Thus a lovely meal was had with good, fresh ingredients, food grown by the hands that also bagged it, and Ian cooked the flounder just right.

This morning saw me up quite early. Meditation and Morning Pages. Time at the computer creating questions and art prompts for Women Who Run With the Wolves to be sent off to Ariel (bless her boots, she's great at putting together the raw offerings) for the upcoming book study group. Then there was a developing sense of needing to do something with my body ~ starting with getting away from the computer. There was darned little time for yoga this morning between making breakfast and tending the catsdogschickens and yet more work on my desk (the kind that pays) so I opted for a very simple tai ji session outside barefoot.

I cut my tai ji teeth on Chungliang Al Huang back in the late 1980's and I've never practiced any other form. Being self-taught in just about anything I put my mind to, this book is an excellent Beginner's Primer on tai ji for ease and accessibility. The forms Al Huang describes in the book are easy to remember on a cellular level and almost never need referring to again. The simplicity served me well this morning standing on the grass, facing the sun, as I moved energy all about me. Surprisingly grounding and energizing simultaneously. And he's adorable to watch on YouTube.

While cooking, I got to thinking about what to do with myself. I have great ideas. I'd like to implement them, I think. And that's the problem. The other problem is that whatever it is I'm thinking of doing seems to be Out There already ~ in some cases, there's a saturation of "my" ideas in existence. So. While cooking up those potatoes from last night for breakfast this morning, I ponder: What do I want to be when I grow up? Again.
Proof of two facts: 1) Ian exists (he's rarely photographed for this blog giving one a sort of Sasquatch/Yeti feel in writing about him ~ when he emerges from the Man Cave, we refer to these events as Sightings) and 2) the boy can cook!

5 comments:

Karen Stewart Elliott said...

Sounds like you've grown up fine and dandy, but I understand that desire to understand more of what we're supposed to be. I think a lot of people, a lot of artists, do that. I never had a son, just sweet daughters. It would be great to have a son who can cook. Awesome!

Sweet Red Clover said...

Oh...I just read a really good post that I wish I could remember about doing things other people do (the post was about having someone 'copy' your work, but there were really good insights about other things). The gist of what the lady was saying is that even if other people are doing similar things, you are going to approach it with your own 'spirit' aka point of view/way of working/etc. and, as long as it's genuinely you, it's your right to share it with the world!

Also when you said 'we call them sightings' and compared seeing him to Sasquatch I was laughing SO HARD! :)

Cynthia Lee said...

I am reading Women Who Run with the Wolves right now; just started. Art prompts?! I am intrigued.

Ruth said...

Wow. I remember when you were pregnant with The Boy Who Cooks. Where have the years gone?

My own not-so-wee Sasquatch is talking about marriage. Again, years . . . zooooooom.

Looking forward to this book adventure with you although I suspect that my art-inspired contributions will be a bit thin on the ground.

Ashling said...

Sometimes I wonder if any of us ever stop asking that question...