tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-338553402024-03-06T22:58:08.350-06:00Lifelong learning: The third degreeLife is learning. It's all goodGeorgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.comBlogger187125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-12495218445522733462017-10-01T10:13:00.000-05:002017-10-13T08:26:27.085-05:00Trois semaines à Lyon<div>
Les réservations faites -- des billets d'avion aller-retour et un appartement AirBnb -- et rien d'autre, nous sommes partis pour Lyon. Trois semaines avec rien à faire, sauf ce qui se présente au début de chaque journée. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">L'Atelier des Chefs</td></tr>
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Il s'est avéré qu'il y avait une école culinaire en face de notre appartement, donc, dés le première journée je suis devenue curieuse. Je voyais classe après classe de personnes qui semblaient bien s'amuser. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Chef Matthieu</td></tr>
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Je n'ai pas tardé à m'inscrire. Et voilà! Après une matinée avec Chef Matthieu, comment préparer des plats français est devenu mon but pour le voyage.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Bien sûr, il y avait bien d'autres choses --</span><br />
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De longues promenades; </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Pont sur le Saône direction Place Bellecour</td></tr>
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de belles vues; </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">La Saône</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiK4oU8RhUK0fGpkoftJ3PXdp8dsdZmWhzQcOGDDBF6VvIDfdDYoYGknDhPsl3qtwRxMWPpy8no5jQN1DDFPN0wTC5IoXrnV4zsKKzHAXbnByJhhXYTsHPdRm0a-b8TAXPLD_R/s1600/IMG_0383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiK4oU8RhUK0fGpkoftJ3PXdp8dsdZmWhzQcOGDDBF6VvIDfdDYoYGknDhPsl3qtwRxMWPpy8no5jQN1DDFPN0wTC5IoXrnV4zsKKzHAXbnByJhhXYTsHPdRm0a-b8TAXPLD_R/s320/IMG_0383.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">La Saône et Vieux Lyon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">La Saône</td></tr>
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des musées -- comme le Musée des Miniatures, le Musée des Confluences, la Maison des Canuts;</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiKSDHBkbbHIuRrAhx9jauSMkcRTZNUAb1FJbfkDiynrTfvJ66ek3NnFK66kRG6_Z7N8Fd6bLK5A1mAwonjdIT292tVaLBFGKKlDAI5WVFw6d9eFrGIA1R72h0yyZoQiSD3i5/s1600/IMG_1880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiKSDHBkbbHIuRrAhx9jauSMkcRTZNUAb1FJbfkDiynrTfvJ66ek3NnFK66kRG6_Z7N8Fd6bLK5A1mAwonjdIT292tVaLBFGKKlDAI5WVFw6d9eFrGIA1R72h0yyZoQiSD3i5/s200/IMG_1880.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Une miniature d'une scene du cinema</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76PfFIWsMw24VGpzJXkPdC1eeUf9zMPQEKuhw2QBj5cv0LlkplWiy1G3LEM8206TAFuKInLe5ZAP_am3RkSNRauCgy8d-YcmH4E-lbVFYuK8zhsehAI6GzL-z63x2MTJLPmlT/s1600/IMG_0289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76PfFIWsMw24VGpzJXkPdC1eeUf9zMPQEKuhw2QBj5cv0LlkplWiy1G3LEM8206TAFuKInLe5ZAP_am3RkSNRauCgy8d-YcmH4E-lbVFYuK8zhsehAI6GzL-z63x2MTJLPmlT/s320/IMG_0289.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Moi, a la confluence de La Saône et Le Rhône</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuE35WOHe_sM5SDV_nhZYH3nbWpWShWU84rUpXJmvZHqg8eTaWu0rRywDy0FyYeDIplqcjpvSIOhl4z_DEe1_246BjUjbAn9einOAO8zcXeunEX4hvDodHifVepmzyBQe4I2u/s1600/Lumie%25CC%2580re___Le_cine%25CC%2581ma_invente%25CC%2581___Muse%25CC%2581e_des_Confluences.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuE35WOHe_sM5SDV_nhZYH3nbWpWShWU84rUpXJmvZHqg8eTaWu0rRywDy0FyYeDIplqcjpvSIOhl4z_DEe1_246BjUjbAn9einOAO8zcXeunEX4hvDodHifVepmzyBQe4I2u/s320/Lumie%25CC%2580re___Le_cine%25CC%2581ma_invente%25CC%2581___Muse%25CC%2581e_des_Confluences.jpg" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Fabuleuse exposition</td></tr>
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des repas chez nous;</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4ntfeS9Nr0cbGe36sq3sRHdHYjyghRK_w_rzSTZ4z2tsZv-zB42amnIxsdJx6USaW2veqqJS3oJ8W-rrkxhVpc-yl2-SYRT2T99i6cb0k-RWGwJ65GNAmYgzorLAtsTqoYVP/s1600/IMG_1883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4ntfeS9Nr0cbGe36sq3sRHdHYjyghRK_w_rzSTZ4z2tsZv-zB42amnIxsdJx6USaW2veqqJS3oJ8W-rrkxhVpc-yl2-SYRT2T99i6cb0k-RWGwJ65GNAmYgzorLAtsTqoYVP/s320/IMG_1883.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Denis à table</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJkdHrLUfuOHVitjwlLuPYCnQkYHn99fSn05Zv8_uWdoXVAmQEll6Wa0gdiVCdPylehHaS1I-scdJGBllLC_9i054ToEBjBzK9Dtdd4YSGi9_Uw0Q1HJuseU1ixpAsLjUxOYh/s1600/IMG_0237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGJkdHrLUfuOHVitjwlLuPYCnQkYHn99fSn05Zv8_uWdoXVAmQEll6Wa0gdiVCdPylehHaS1I-scdJGBllLC_9i054ToEBjBzK9Dtdd4YSGi9_Uw0Q1HJuseU1ixpAsLjUxOYh/s320/IMG_0237.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">La cuisine</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48PyrAEH_XtkmDRN4Jh5mAXDweXUtaSIhZCjDP7MyLhj0pIiyUCpLUMS-YPabCMd-OI5lInTL8WpaUCFza3Mem-9H04KeP-z8zXVMhOODk_5oBitr9B-gAK5k9NB_lI0LgpPn/s1600/IMG_0282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48PyrAEH_XtkmDRN4Jh5mAXDweXUtaSIhZCjDP7MyLhj0pIiyUCpLUMS-YPabCMd-OI5lInTL8WpaUCFza3Mem-9H04KeP-z8zXVMhOODk_5oBitr9B-gAK5k9NB_lI0LgpPn/s200/IMG_0282.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Un petit déjeuner typique</td></tr>
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et ceux aux restaurants;</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Le cafe et le dessert</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwjCe0BF_h84dVuJLiKeRtaNIb6K-N1-lzjR_dR8lNxcDjBWYsXDtO_A2XKzvwxuC3jE8nEjN9gmZZvO4-SmripAzxDK_V6Dv6KYGtNqu_Nhli_h6zMOjg8FYZw4E2-u_U8R-/s1600/IMG_0416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwjCe0BF_h84dVuJLiKeRtaNIb6K-N1-lzjR_dR8lNxcDjBWYsXDtO_A2XKzvwxuC3jE8nEjN9gmZZvO4-SmripAzxDK_V6Dv6KYGtNqu_Nhli_h6zMOjg8FYZw4E2-u_U8R-/s320/IMG_0416.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Café des Negociantes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIyMRM94QncbMHrREECGTBFa3uwOJWlnR0QZjsDIk1nwKBKQo3Bz16IkNwbODdRMfKqOSde_l9kbRyKCNAGgTXrGUqWB7Ck6Yck7PRzjU7rr2I9KPJ8P_vRAtsEmvE9E0e7tU/s200/IMG_0398.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="150" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Le meilleure Tiramisu<br />
que j'ai jamais gouté</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIyMRM94QncbMHrREECGTBFa3uwOJWlnR0QZjsDIk1nwKBKQo3Bz16IkNwbODdRMfKqOSde_l9kbRyKCNAGgTXrGUqWB7Ck6Yck7PRzjU7rr2I9KPJ8P_vRAtsEmvE9E0e7tU/s1600/IMG_0398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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notre café préféré, Puzzle;</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSH8AQ04d2eWEUwi9IpZTOvvtnjIUxqiyM1EdXEsT4LMz4Xj0CAM0uivnyZlgC22ETLqI2j2QDPtwFVSHDREgCanAYFDIwIFJ7SxPjb-waURqmKlWREb3HKQrfuaygx46bDdy/s200/IMG_0380.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="150" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Rue de la Poulaillerie; Cafe Puzzle</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHvRENU3n4bh3FwbWr4wHkmuQW_iYb1_SBC1OgmA4LArC1Fpy15IVaQW8LsRFS5I9qhGfYoTNyHLhw7LJ-Khz3jaxU6pRqRc_1tyTtiIj1nXGWWtYIjwppskq_aZMJIwScYPH/s1600/fullsizeoutput_802.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1472" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHvRENU3n4bh3FwbWr4wHkmuQW_iYb1_SBC1OgmA4LArC1Fpy15IVaQW8LsRFS5I9qhGfYoTNyHLhw7LJ-Khz3jaxU6pRqRc_1tyTtiIj1nXGWWtYIjwppskq_aZMJIwScYPH/s200/fullsizeoutput_802.jpeg" width="183" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Talal et Thomas, Cafe Puzzle</td></tr>
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<div>
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<div>
des parcs avec leurs jardins merveilleux;</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD35WF8oBVZp-nr3bOXS-kk7BT1rgjKJUlOgP82VmiiIctIjKWa7Wx_u82APiwf1BDZLyLLgUapY14-TuBGH0-mixaSQCYmAoq8uw5-pL-CfNRFLioTpTg54Zxq2bz3YwFHThd/s1600/IMG_1875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1600" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD35WF8oBVZp-nr3bOXS-kk7BT1rgjKJUlOgP82VmiiIctIjKWa7Wx_u82APiwf1BDZLyLLgUapY14-TuBGH0-mixaSQCYmAoq8uw5-pL-CfNRFLioTpTg54Zxq2bz3YwFHThd/s320/IMG_1875.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Le Parc de la Tête d'Or</td></tr>
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<div>
les églises, et les ruines romains;</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1RD4cseoUHRx2NjU51SOeQEpRpthi6yqerJyNgt11WkJHkMNIaAFuMI_hTI6cAcSi9wwwubWxZKrxlJKEfL3miZ18pZX_exvdxtP-oLFAYLUwkniczdgwiWokt6t0BpUOl-K/s1600/IMG_0362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1RD4cseoUHRx2NjU51SOeQEpRpthi6yqerJyNgt11WkJHkMNIaAFuMI_hTI6cAcSi9wwwubWxZKrxlJKEfL3miZ18pZX_exvdxtP-oLFAYLUwkniczdgwiWokt6t0BpUOl-K/s320/IMG_0362.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Ruines Romain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDaMuP0fI-Y3pYTGHSPhReU0DKNtf0K4a9DcwFAri5hx1t5Jcfa5TJ9hnD5dH-zu1775z9cCgsorVOutTYcWlC91g-d7u54JLuWly9k04Fc2vbEQCZe_0IhqlzDN5ei_EeuV3B/s1600/IMG_0278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDaMuP0fI-Y3pYTGHSPhReU0DKNtf0K4a9DcwFAri5hx1t5Jcfa5TJ9hnD5dH-zu1775z9cCgsorVOutTYcWlC91g-d7u54JLuWly9k04Fc2vbEQCZe_0IhqlzDN5ei_EeuV3B/s320/IMG_0278.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourviere</td></tr>
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<div>
et surtout, les marchés;</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRroks8-dvDDJNmiYilM6zwBnEFDpqKnwIJH0b972XodJQx-swRKLzxPXq7IxVdUvwMXY11D97A6tUHzQiNWZwoK4uABQi-FIfdUTVZ2QDGunuowenP19teel_ID0IdDcUgku4/s1600/IMG_1895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRroks8-dvDDJNmiYilM6zwBnEFDpqKnwIJH0b972XodJQx-swRKLzxPXq7IxVdUvwMXY11D97A6tUHzQiNWZwoK4uABQi-FIfdUTVZ2QDGunuowenP19teel_ID0IdDcUgku4/s320/IMG_1895.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Marché Saint-Antoine Célestins</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA20TGXzGO9uBkkp2b_oyZ8QsCZet11oe8iM-95k_YhU-8lWEMi0qZkcW5tRCxSW1hLo4_FlYUtLwbz9K1emaMj78DJpCeD8V6Pk4EVSYFNONl6oPPkHrHXVheCnIMNAFJdAym/s1600/IMG_1900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA20TGXzGO9uBkkp2b_oyZ8QsCZet11oe8iM-95k_YhU-8lWEMi0qZkcW5tRCxSW1hLo4_FlYUtLwbz9K1emaMj78DJpCeD8V6Pk4EVSYFNONl6oPPkHrHXVheCnIMNAFJdAym/s320/IMG_1900.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Marché Saint-Antoine Célestins</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityasrrxBCitIk5e1vuHh7iJtWlNzvmx9zjVEpiJCSdOvCBsRpl410Kc0p4tpwkZWCrL42Rtcfx7Nisomtzvh7y2_58WFr6fd4FYMiYvVofH6_1VsHNekUAg11oWf7aeo6jyQm/s1600/IMG_1905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityasrrxBCitIk5e1vuHh7iJtWlNzvmx9zjVEpiJCSdOvCBsRpl410Kc0p4tpwkZWCrL42Rtcfx7Nisomtzvh7y2_58WFr6fd4FYMiYvVofH6_1VsHNekUAg11oWf7aeo6jyQm/s320/IMG_1905.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Marché Saint-Antoine Célestins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div>
Pourtant, on a passé beaucoup de temp à ne rien faire, ou à lire les romans, ou à écrire à des amis. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
C'etait des vacances, après tout. Et notre appartement était parfait pour ça.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaeJvenSkcb4Kgr6kpAQjpgqR89atlZkhwULwJjEdE0XXe_PDNpP-hvtFarLeqao3WKk2cqlk844_BAfvjwG_Sh7TixPDm_zgDfIZ_gLQAO1UoOcuMiB2kspxBUU7EjPMk24R/s1600/IMG_0243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaeJvenSkcb4Kgr6kpAQjpgqR89atlZkhwULwJjEdE0XXe_PDNpP-hvtFarLeqao3WKk2cqlk844_BAfvjwG_Sh7TixPDm_zgDfIZ_gLQAO1UoOcuMiB2kspxBUU7EjPMk24R/s320/IMG_0243.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Denis se détend un peu, notre appartement</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mais en fin de compte, ce que j'ai recueilli pour le retour à Austin, c'était un tas de recettes. Elles ne sont pas compliquées, pas du tout! Je ne veux pas être comme Julia! En effet, comment se fait-il que je n'ai pas déjà découvert ces plats simples et délicieux? Chaque fois qu'on a pris des repas aux restaurants, même quand on a pris quelque-chose chez Puzzle (les desserts fabuleux), j'ai découvert un nouveau plat à apprendre à cuisiner. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
En tous cas, j'attends avec impatience d'être dans ma cuisine et de cuisiner des plats français avec mes amis! J'adore la France, mais j'adore mon chez-moi aussi ! </div>
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRqEbwPjguq36qhSXFrF01SM74akmMOO8BYETt5SVT_nbNvojbfULgnybtM8M0SDPGIPxF1ndFv8L3qqM4lHC-68hkukrOCwuIHfPfvAGI7nzL9805ABsiV0no9Ay7QpgpgWG/s1600/IMG_0247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRqEbwPjguq36qhSXFrF01SM74akmMOO8BYETt5SVT_nbNvojbfULgnybtM8M0SDPGIPxF1ndFv8L3qqM4lHC-68hkukrOCwuIHfPfvAGI7nzL9805ABsiV0no9Ay7QpgpgWG/s320/IMG_0247.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Adieu!</td></tr>
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Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-87288873758868863512016-09-10T17:58:00.001-05:002016-10-03T14:01:25.068-05:00Life with food, and cookbooks<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURpxYzuVib3zUCw6fTZQ4uZ-Q1_iGISLMLMfzbI-wTH1M78yrPry8txVbcfyZ8_bzdLMTcgsXfCGnDUDyuYxJe_WgPmoBzMJvLbl5s3JqLouZwGAyEHAMNlKd7i4ItGxH3brA/s1600/IMG_1517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURpxYzuVib3zUCw6fTZQ4uZ-Q1_iGISLMLMfzbI-wTH1M78yrPry8txVbcfyZ8_bzdLMTcgsXfCGnDUDyuYxJe_WgPmoBzMJvLbl5s3JqLouZwGAyEHAMNlKd7i4ItGxH3brA/s320/IMG_1517.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pantry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4>
September's book club topic is food, but rather than read a book about food, I thought I'd just really pay close attention to the experience of food in my life, and write about it.</h4>
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Like everyone, I experience food every day, several times a day. For the most part, I love food. I've got the time now to really enjoy planning menus, going to the market, creating, serving and eating beautiful soups, stews, salads, breads, casseroles, cookies, cakes, jams, shrubs and anything else that I think up to make.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3cU_P__RH0vB4PEUb7__E6c9o9NX-t32qZKG0eJMZfweEQEwOQDsdE2-qJTXH2-acABLJt1KhmlVWnVeZT1Zv_9R7uwbF_4sOAHC87fibDpWa1x7pHhoOzxvCIbiLmPNi7Gk/s1600/IMG_1515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3cU_P__RH0vB4PEUb7__E6c9o9NX-t32qZKG0eJMZfweEQEwOQDsdE2-qJTXH2-acABLJt1KhmlVWnVeZT1Zv_9R7uwbF_4sOAHC87fibDpWa1x7pHhoOzxvCIbiLmPNi7Gk/s200/IMG_1515.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My very-<br />
pared-down cookbook nook</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And that's where books come in. I almost always consult cookbooks as an integral part of this life with food, unless I already have a recipe written down and saved on paper or ... unless I have a recipe saved on the Internet.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp34bdE4VK1E_y67Lq_X1rH1TTajEycVMlxXzOFV6_JcJRTkvhjK7xGO-fUrnT4ajhKYhXaqysnS7y6S35DUETOldK35EfIoWHKP-wM53UPK5E33iPiUscJWvEuyjp4ULysAfX/s1600/IMG_1516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp34bdE4VK1E_y67Lq_X1rH1TTajEycVMlxXzOFV6_JcJRTkvhjK7xGO-fUrnT4ajhKYhXaqysnS7y6S35DUETOldK35EfIoWHKP-wM53UPK5E33iPiUscJWvEuyjp4ULysAfX/s200/IMG_1516.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stash of often-used <br />
slips of paper with jotted-down recipes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
If I don't have a recipe already written down, and I don't think any of my cookbooks contains a recipe for something I want to make, I Google it. Et voila! My other cookbook, the Internet.<br />
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People have posted recipes for just about everything you can imagine, and so, it's no exaggeration to suggest that there might not really be a need for anymore cookbooks, and yet I don't know a single cook who's given them up, or stopped buying them. And according to some publishers, well-curated collections illustrated with eye-catching photos, and authored by celebrity chefs, innovative cooks and well-known food bloggers are doing very well indeed.<br />
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Well, I'm agnostic about it all. I just use whatever makes the most sense for whatever it is I want to make. Here are some of the sources I've consulted and things I've made this month.<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grand City granola</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPsHm2Ty11c9zlanHtRxHlzDakiqEVTkYfXBd_osm9um8WTsfwc1GCi7Q8dHU3UwEcZphx5Zs0j-LfBQVt0gNjgTUDpjx76eyoSEF4zMTyH7RCT7Pr6h3TKqSchqdJH9b8fmq/s1600/IMG_0542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPsHm2Ty11c9zlanHtRxHlzDakiqEVTkYfXBd_osm9um8WTsfwc1GCi7Q8dHU3UwEcZphx5Zs0j-LfBQVt0gNjgTUDpjx76eyoSEF4zMTyH7RCT7Pr6h3TKqSchqdJH9b8fmq/s200/IMG_0542.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grand City granola</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This one has as its source a melange of real-life experience as inspiration (a divine smell), a borrowed photocopy of a page from an out-of-print cookbook as the how-to, and my own variations on the theme.<br />
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It started with a stay at the <a href="http://www.briarrosebb.com/" target="_blank">Briar Rose</a>, a B&B in Boulder Colorado. I walked into the kitchen there one afternoon, drawn by the most heavenly smell. It turned out to be the next day's granola, baking. I was hooked.<br />
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_SG2od9RN_NSoNlELDuxbRUWNPPLZRyhr-TtCvFwT1BjGK88rVBHM02XjxVOAxcVH3vi7cuEO7kNoWtqP0rv3cWWYdo4ykZYYlo-WrD2d5xqqLHhKxSWLDBLy4zoXJCstFrcO/s1600/IMG_1521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_SG2od9RN_NSoNlELDuxbRUWNPPLZRyhr-TtCvFwT1BjGK88rVBHM02XjxVOAxcVH3vi7cuEO7kNoWtqP0rv3cWWYdo4ykZYYlo-WrD2d5xqqLHhKxSWLDBLy4zoXJCstFrcO/s200/IMG_1521.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My tweaked version of<br />
Grand City Granola</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When I got home, I mentioned my newfound motivation to make my own granola to my friend, Emily, and she shared a recipe with me from a Starbucks cookbook, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Starbucks-Passion-Coffee-Sunset-Books/dp/0376026138" target="_blank">A Passion for Coffee</a>, that looked great. I tweaked it a bit to suit my own nut and seed-centric preferences, and I've never gone back. Haven't bought granola in years. It's fabulous -- it tastes just as good as it smells!<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Avocado-quinoa breakfast bowl</span><br />
<br />
This one was pure Internet search. I was craving something totally different for breakfast, balanced, not the usual, and I don't recall how I phrased the search, but the <a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/244389/avocado-breakfast-bowl/" target="_blank">online photos of this breakfast drew me in</a>, totally.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVNvDP3sm_KlgqgJQPtaeV2Wj9YdnfBep8MoADFzcdp-JrGlNo6fluQ4A5Ryn0yLiGMbI4s3xpZ6XF-r2vuBgNbXa4fAOICc00YG_0mf9gBcH39eFxI2SgpB17ylcH_zP7Tiq/s1600/IMG_1487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVNvDP3sm_KlgqgJQPtaeV2Wj9YdnfBep8MoADFzcdp-JrGlNo6fluQ4A5Ryn0yLiGMbI4s3xpZ6XF-r2vuBgNbXa4fAOICc00YG_0mf9gBcH39eFxI2SgpB17ylcH_zP7Tiq/s200/IMG_1487.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avocado quinoa breakfast bowl</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It had everything I was looking for, I had all the ingredients already on hand, and it was completely unlike anything I typically have for breakfast. Sometimes I just want new and different. And another plus: it makes up in about 15-20 minutes, the time it takes to cook the quinoa and boil an egg. And with avocado and feta cheese, how can you go wrong?<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhem4LevBPVGNX0bdDgIJZTohgWD3zrdoMkLs_iQJVGPosfywjJiPnqgN8t7cGC5o_sdGyFDRzjf6LKEWgoEbE-1BVIe0VzgT9Vvig5Jh9gmJ3lW2YjOKRC1phfId7C5oMpgnZ/s1600/IMG_1504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhem4LevBPVGNX0bdDgIJZTohgWD3zrdoMkLs_iQJVGPosfywjJiPnqgN8t7cGC5o_sdGyFDRzjf6LKEWgoEbE-1BVIe0VzgT9Vvig5Jh9gmJ3lW2YjOKRC1phfId7C5oMpgnZ/s200/IMG_1504.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb Perelman's mom's and <br />
Jane's and the NYT's apple cake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Apple cake</span><br />
<br />
I saw this <a href="https://smittenkitchen.com/2008/09/moms-apple-cake/" target="_blank">recipe in Deb Perelman's cookbook, Smitten Kitchen</a>, and it reminded me of a recipe I hadn't made in decades, one I came by in the early 1970's from Jane, an old friend of my first hubby, John. I found my copy of her recipe and compared hers and Deb's and they were indeed the same basic recipe. In fact, I went online to look up other examples of this kind of cake and found that there had been one <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/04/magazine/04Food-t.html?_r=0" target="_blank">published in the New York Times in 1973</a>, still available online in the Times' archive. Same recipe. For my attempt, I cut the recipe to 1/3 and used a 7" spring-form pan.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA69Q2jbmuYyZCVe6vzsknqrdcbClslft21lnsO7lStRgyiIoqQqz1D4WN-BBeBJMmCfz4lGKq6OWvVNWFav7iEmgwYfLiDigGiXaLklTTyxbR1XEr2NtIOIoFpaHH1PW479Tx/s1600/IMG_1514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA69Q2jbmuYyZCVe6vzsknqrdcbClslft21lnsO7lStRgyiIoqQqz1D4WN-BBeBJMmCfz4lGKq6OWvVNWFav7iEmgwYfLiDigGiXaLklTTyxbR1XEr2NtIOIoFpaHH1PW479Tx/s200/IMG_1514.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1970's era apple muffins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
My apologies to Deb, her mom, Jane, and the NYT, but this didn't turn out all that great. It takes forever to bake so the outside is a bit overdone, it was a tad too sweet for me, and the recommendation to use Macintosh apples was, for me, a miscue. It's probably just me and my weird tastes, but really I am much more the apple muffin type -- think about making them on a moment's notice and 30 minutes later you're eating one hot out of the oven. I'm sure I've got <i>that</i> 1970's era recipe in my file too. Oh, yes, here it is. And you just throw all the liquid ingredients, including peeled and cored apples, into the blender and whiz for a few seconds. Too easy!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Heirloom tomato and berry salad</span><br />
<br />
This one came to me just 2 days ago (Sept. 7), on the recommendation of a colleague from the University of Texas Libraries, now retired, Robert Foster. He sends me things to read all the time, including links to recipes like this one, from The Guardian. I saved it right away and have been looking for an excuse to make it since. Today I prepared it for lunch for me and Dennis, along with a BLT on honey whole-wheat sourdough (below). <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/sep/07/nuno-mendes-summer-recipes-tomato-and-berry-salad-with-herbs?CMP=share_btn_link" target="_blank">The recipe is Nuno Mendes'</a> and it's super-simple: you just slice and chunk a couple of heirloom tomatoes into a bowl, and toss in some berries (whatever you've got), sprinkle some of your garden herbs on top, again, whatever you've got, and top with a tossed-together dressing of 1 part tamari, 2 parts balsamic vinegar, and 3-4 parts olive oil. Scatter toasted breadcrumbs over the top just before serving.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9HJnhnK8OksB2K6Ngurnd5cgKqAuSzA30iD8jsalzQ-j4gC8jOGVdiBoUoyqgDk4DNr2vZRPRjf_8HkITD50MQxSh9gVANcmtOV7fFxWxwyvAL4AcrzrXV1wLjClirrR_BKq/s1600/IMG_1511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9HJnhnK8OksB2K6Ngurnd5cgKqAuSzA30iD8jsalzQ-j4gC8jOGVdiBoUoyqgDk4DNr2vZRPRjf_8HkITD50MQxSh9gVANcmtOV7fFxWxwyvAL4AcrzrXV1wLjClirrR_BKq/s200/IMG_1511.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomatoes, blackberries and a BLT</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The breadcrumbs were genius: pulse a couple of slices of, in my case, homemade bread in the food processor, turn them into a hot frying pan and toss a little every few minutes until they start to brown, then add 1 T of butter and continue stirring/tossing every few minutes as they continue to toast up nicely. Turn off the heat, salt and pepper to taste, and let them cool. Wow, what a nice crunchy touch on the tomatoes and berries!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAITxQ1XDL42ZbTUOeKz-EFezK4bvbuHO2Wt95wONDkWzY22GpX3EiA_Fp_jYRD9uZqWELM3UKyqpP4QZr0c6b4-tGo4lyDz4GmM8mrhs46KLa6N8ZQA8PSUngKDhXeuVxKkc/s1600/IMG_1509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAITxQ1XDL42ZbTUOeKz-EFezK4bvbuHO2Wt95wONDkWzY22GpX3EiA_Fp_jYRD9uZqWELM3UKyqpP4QZr0c6b4-tGo4lyDz4GmM8mrhs46KLa6N8ZQA8PSUngKDhXeuVxKkc/s200/IMG_1509.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toasting breadcrumbs for the<br />
tomato/berry salad</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Honey whole-wheat sourdough bread</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-pEi4z9lJ9jwZw3umsTWwyfXH87c51_8d0lfmmHhAhsGj5Ztb2hyphenhyphen6kEhpZqzqgjIbazcM2h_qfGlmNqrEDxsn2Zi8hHF_cYM7Fmo2aI-b0WgqqWKVpYoHkCcuxQPkIbYLu5j/s1600/IMG_1394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-pEi4z9lJ9jwZw3umsTWwyfXH87c51_8d0lfmmHhAhsGj5Ztb2hyphenhyphen6kEhpZqzqgjIbazcM2h_qfGlmNqrEDxsn2Zi8hHF_cYM7Fmo2aI-b0WgqqWKVpYoHkCcuxQPkIbYLu5j/s200/IMG_1394.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honey whole-wheat sourdough</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This recipe came from <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/country-style-sourdough-bread" target="_blank">Bon Appétit, originally, "Country-Style Sourdough,"</a> but I found it on the Internet. It's one of Alton Brown's, and I've got it printed out and it's in my stack of frequently-used recipes, covered with my own variations on the original, including this honey whole-wheat sourdough.<br />
<br />
Actually, I owe this variation to an old, old friend, Beverly Leathers, who introduced me to sourdough 45 years ago when we were both in college at UT. I still have her recipe for making 4 loaves in 24 hours, but I adapted it to Alton's quicker loaves (and only 2 at a time), well, not quicker by much, but a little. We use this bread for sandwiches, morning toast, french toast, and even breadcrumbs, like the ones that topped the tomato and berry salad, above.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1LIfTaesw6W-9fsFXKqBdzvYQ8bYum6ovl_22avALrmgE3uLrqTKHImeXOIc9IjIOzkyO0A1Jd90wsTlbEN0ClKMxfnXCRA-khVhAwW9u0n_xmHMRPXIryWcBfyODUC7w0q3/s1600/IMG_1512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1LIfTaesw6W-9fsFXKqBdzvYQ8bYum6ovl_22avALrmgE3uLrqTKHImeXOIc9IjIOzkyO0A1Jd90wsTlbEN0ClKMxfnXCRA-khVhAwW9u0n_xmHMRPXIryWcBfyODUC7w0q3/s200/IMG_1512.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beverly's sourdough bread, front of card</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<br />
And, the sourdough starter I used for these loaves is the Mexican plum sourdough I made earlier this summer, from the plums that fall to the sidewalk in front of our house in late July.<a href="http://georgiaharper.blogspot.com/2016/08/camp-plum.html" target="_blank"> I wrote about that in Camp Plum, in August.</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Blueberry ricotta pancakes with lemon-butter and maple syrup</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
One morning for breakfast, Dennis asked for pancakes. I happily obliged with a batch inspired by a local restaurant, <a href="https://cafenoseaustin.com/brunch/" target="_blank">Cafe No Se</a>, at the South Congress Hotel. We love this place and eat there often. Their pastry chef, Amanda Rockman, makes the fabulous croissants and kouing amann that are our go-to french viennoiserie when we want a Paris fix. But the Cafe also offers ricotta pancakes, which are heavenly, served with pecan butter, bananas and maple syrup.<br />
<br />
I didn't have a recipe for these, so I Googled them, read a few for comparisons, and decided on my own variation, which I wrote out on a slip of paper. Really, you can use your favorite pancake recipe and just adapt it with these suggestions:<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAciClRRjVof4pmuZXo8y3XDpiuN4TOE1A1Enu-CGCkhwHccyj2PYrHXeGozf8h2BJ39i5gLtHx1NTU_FjqAFca-seYsdRi68pHTgYJuG-hJJHR1YbfC_8MFYHyGdCvZIarN0O/s1600/IMG_1489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAciClRRjVof4pmuZXo8y3XDpiuN4TOE1A1Enu-CGCkhwHccyj2PYrHXeGozf8h2BJ39i5gLtHx1NTU_FjqAFca-seYsdRi68pHTgYJuG-hJJHR1YbfC_8MFYHyGdCvZIarN0O/s320/IMG_1489.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blueberry ricotta pancakes with <br />
berries, bananas, lemon-butter and maple syrup</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ricotta pancakes have an interesting distinction, from my butter-loving perspective: they have no added fat in the recipe. I used whole-milk ricotta (1/2 c) and whole milk (1 c), so they're not fat-free by any means, but still. Well, it gives me a good excuse to insist on butter on the finished pancake, which I'd normally forego if there's butter <i>in</i> the pancake. This is just fine in this recipe, because lemon and ricotta seem to be happy together. i just grated some zest into softened butter and stirred it a bit. Perfect.<br />
<br />
The other thing about these is their lightness. They've got two eggs (to a cup of flour), but the whites are separated from the yolks and whipped to stiff peaks and folded in at the end, right before baking on the griddle. The resulting pancakes practically float off the plate.<br />
<br />
I noted on my recipe that these were fabulous, so I'd remember as the years go by. I've got lots of slips of paper with pancake variations on them. These, and biscuits, are some of my favorite things to make. In fact, I'd have to say that breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. So bright and cheerful a way to greet your brand-new 24 hours!<br />
<br />
And while we're on the subject of breakfast, I couldn't omit a reference to my waffle iron. This one's got a nice story to it too.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pecan waffles</span><br />
<br />
Long, long time ago, I had a friend named Jim Sherrill. He had a place way out in the country, a very rustic little cabin sort of thing, built inside a barn-like structure, all of which he'd made himself. I used to go out to visit him and hang out for a few days at a time. That's where I first saw his waffle iron, sitting on top of his wood-burning stove.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vmJODEIdgjPsOZly9AoCZt-oKSZJHOwDtMmgvRGOvPYuak0wvBClGVNNvpcXHg3Het7E5vVn-Bgx3ZL9e-iKLKMh3Z6fcj9FSEHbjJmFfY0OQxPqNUAiVUCM2jZY2h1L1Luz/s1600/IMG_1525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vmJODEIdgjPsOZly9AoCZt-oKSZJHOwDtMmgvRGOvPYuak0wvBClGVNNvpcXHg3Het7E5vVn-Bgx3ZL9e-iKLKMh3Z6fcj9FSEHbjJmFfY0OQxPqNUAiVUCM2jZY2h1L1Luz/s200/IMG_1525.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Jøtul waffle iron</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He said he'd used it, but that "it didn't make good waffles" because the batter would run out the sides. Well, I figured there was an easy fix for that problem -- a thicker batter. And you know, I was right. It wasn't the waffle iron at all. You just had to warm it up, medium heat, a few minutes on one side and then a few minutes on the other, and back and forth like that until it's just barely starting to smoke a bit (oh, and it's been buttered and stayed seasoned forever -- you never wash it). Open it up, pour in about 1/2 c batter and close it down and a few minutes later you've got one very yummy waffle. Repeat.<br />
<br />
Well, a short time later I was shopping at Le Cadeau, a fantastic gift shop we used to have here in Austin, filled to the rafters with cool imported kitchen stuff. Searching through Le Cadeau's treasures, I found some of my most favorite possessions, among them, my Sabatier carbon-steel knives, and a Jøtul waffle iron, just like Jim's. I found it shortly after seeing his, snapped that baby up, and I've been making heart-shaped waffles ever since. These days, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=jotul+waffle+iron&espv=2&biw=1170&bih=644&tbm=isch&imgil=IeJQlOZ0g2QVZM%253A%253BevhX3OqTpythnM%253Bhttps%25253A%25252F%25252Fwww.etsy.com%25252Flisting%25252F150973916%25252Fvintage-jotul-cast-iron-no-6-norwegian&source=iu&pf=m&fir=IeJQlOZ0g2QVZM%253A%252CevhX3OqTpythnM%252C_&usg=__4A9CIG2P_SM24m9fyjWXKVcTlWg%3D&dpr=1&ved=0ahUKEwjw5KizpYXPAhUMaT4KHXszDCoQyjcIcw&ei=ez7UV7C7J4zS-QH75rDQAg#imgrc=PqQzOp6VNp2klM%3A" target="_blank">they're all over the place, grace à l'Internet.</a><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MhiNyaMIsA9ivOHEyvujpZ6rPmrdsild2ie0HOkxGcY6PaBgxu5t4MR6RtKywYihyphenhyphenIR5h1HDZNT2LxUex4eEDtx0D4lN-V-DbDZtH1T_7YHMgEmC5bZvW5A6rDhjQHoTszsr/s1600/IMG_1526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MhiNyaMIsA9ivOHEyvujpZ6rPmrdsild2ie0HOkxGcY6PaBgxu5t4MR6RtKywYihyphenhyphenIR5h1HDZNT2LxUex4eEDtx0D4lN-V-DbDZtH1T_7YHMgEmC5bZvW5A6rDhjQHoTszsr/s320/IMG_1526.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 1989, 'first computer' version of my<br />
basic pancake recipe, marked up way<br />
more than makes sense anymore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The recipe I use has its origin in my earliest teen-aged cooking. I'm guessing I learned it from my grandma, but I'm not really sure anymore. She always made me honey buckwheat's. This recipe makes a really great pancake, and it's amenable to infinite variations, of course.<br />
<br />
For waffles, it's simple. You just increase the eggs to 2, and decrease the milk a bit (2/3-3/4 c). A thick batter. But, if you want to use buttermilk instead of sweet milk in your pecan waffles, the amounts of milk in the original pancake recipe and the tweaked waffle recipe are the same (but you want to decrease the baking powder a bit and add in some baking soda). Somehow or another, buttermilk makes a thicker batter. Oh, and add some cinnamon, a little vanilla, and 1/3 c. chopped up pecans.<br />
<br />
Heaven on a plate.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And then there are biscuits and scones</span><br />
<br />
As I mentioned above, biscuits are one of my favorite things to bake. So quick and easy, infinitely variable, and always sooooo delicious, hot out of the oven. I usually bake them at least once each week. This week's batch was a take-off on a <a href="https://food52.com/recipes/36146-cook-s-illustrated-blueberry-scones" target="_blank">scone recipe I got from Cook's Illustrated</a>. This is a really special recipe, because the author incorporates a few steps borrowed from the process for making croissants: 1) keeping the butter and other liquids and the dough itself ice-cold (by, among other things, freezing the butter and grating it into the dry ingredients), and 2) rolling out the dough, folding it into thirds (twice), popping it in the refrigerator before the next rolling and folding and then cutting for the final shape.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSNLfT9AYXLnINItuajaw6P-ZyW5vaR99xyockBDr0tTCT-9V296hT0cscoaN3hVpF-WitoioOB4Xe0J9Wn0eZoymS8CDKy_rJj2t_ntOkWM2j6MfVkY_nouOVUPNiQSkAIUrB/s1600/IMG_1530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSNLfT9AYXLnINItuajaw6P-ZyW5vaR99xyockBDr0tTCT-9V296hT0cscoaN3hVpF-WitoioOB4Xe0J9Wn0eZoymS8CDKy_rJj2t_ntOkWM2j6MfVkY_nouOVUPNiQSkAIUrB/s200/IMG_1530.jpg" width="178" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast biscuits</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I decided to use the recipe to make plain biscuits, following all the special steps except that I used all plain whole milk yogurt instead of the sour cream and milk, and, of course, I didn't include the blueberries and lemon zest. Since I didn't have those to roll my dough around for the final shaping step, I just repeated the layering from the first step after I'd let the dough rest in the freezer 5 minutes as directed, and then patted the dough to a size from which I could cut the biscuits. These were fabulous! The layers that the extra-cold butter and the rolling out and folding give the finished biscuit really distinguish them, but then, most biscuits are fabulous to a biscuit lover.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Meatloaf</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzh9WVYyQz7vyyIphMOfto0LX-lHPKY9_ChGgrxvIEx0X4gTsQEn5TiIPrZ-4gdhOQj8iq-DBlNJejoRZuEy9cV2qswBkP2fQZKKwSTRJ8kvuYsq1dIgDRACuqDF8KhUfdn21M/s1600/IMG_1532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzh9WVYyQz7vyyIphMOfto0LX-lHPKY9_ChGgrxvIEx0X4gTsQEn5TiIPrZ-4gdhOQj8iq-DBlNJejoRZuEy9cV2qswBkP2fQZKKwSTRJ8kvuYsq1dIgDRACuqDF8KhUfdn21M/s200/IMG_1532.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb Perelman's <br />
meatball meatloaves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Meatloaf was one of my mother's comfort foods when I was growing up. She taught me how to make it when I was a kid, and I've made it the same way ever since. But for this month's focus on books, I used <a href="http://thehappyfoodie.co.uk/recipes/tomato-glazed-meatloaves-with-mashed-potatoes" target="_blank">Deb Pereleman's meatloaf recipe</a>. She makes large meatballs instead of making an actual loaf, as she explains in her recipe prelude. Though her recipe isn't all that simple -- it's not my mom's 1-bowl recipe -- it's well worth the effort. It requires sautéing some finely processed veggies, making breadcrumbs and simmering the sauce for the top. All of these enhance the flavor. We loved the brown-butter mashed potatoes she serves her "meatballs" on as well.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Roast Chicken</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhwQ6Oz4k5KYRVUWZsEquJAf8DF1crwcXWxjG2XBZUmgl7YsBaB34FJW24FOla8h8KaSaopU1cQUbAeja4JIE5gQyHE-BEWxItUk3v8l_xh20ShbKRi93CZfaobbE1fe0hVVjl/s1600/IMG_1533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhwQ6Oz4k5KYRVUWZsEquJAf8DF1crwcXWxjG2XBZUmgl7YsBaB34FJW24FOla8h8KaSaopU1cQUbAeja4JIE5gQyHE-BEWxItUk3v8l_xh20ShbKRi93CZfaobbE1fe0hVVjl/s200/IMG_1533.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb Perelman's roast chicken<br />
with olives, shallots and grapes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Using another of <a href="http://communitytable.parade.com/169516/debperelman/harvest-roast-chicken-with-olives-grapes-and-rosemary/" target="_blank">Deb Perelman's recipes, I roasted chicken</a> this week to make dinner two nights: Roast chicken with wild rice and a salad, and chicken tacos. I've had her cookbook, Smitten Kitchen, for a couple of years actually, but really didn't get into it until this month's book club's focus on food. I'm really enjoying her sense of humor, the context she provides for her recipes, and the often-serendipitous way she ends up creating what becomes a family favorite. I like that. That seems to be what happens with me too. Things just seem to come together in interesting ways. That's what she says happened to create the roast chicken recipe.<br />
<br />
Well, all I can say is that it was wonderful. We loved it. And the leftovers made a great excuse for tacos a few nights later.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Homemade corn tortillas</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fBF-38Aa5S0PWK9-vJ63lVXzyDUWOI2x_uDvIl8ut5lZ6ZVdwHw4T-3XYv4HpApKphMmrwjT6JBG6OfUSNnPKfhr4SI4dWGTGTEJpEYpjXNPT70SPZ-MgXeZUmudmOsDdvRo/s1600/IMG_1539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fBF-38Aa5S0PWK9-vJ63lVXzyDUWOI2x_uDvIl8ut5lZ6ZVdwHw4T-3XYv4HpApKphMmrwjT6JBG6OfUSNnPKfhr4SI4dWGTGTEJpEYpjXNPT70SPZ-MgXeZUmudmOsDdvRo/s200/IMG_1539.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Homemade corn tortillas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I learned to make flour tortillas ages ago, but corn tortillas seemed too hard, until I really set my mind to it, and I bought a tortilla press. Oh, and I asked people who made them all the time how they did it, and I got them to <i style="font-weight: bold;">show me how. </i>This is magic. Really.<br />
<br />
There isn't a recipe, a photo, even a video that can really replace being in the same place at the same time with someone who knows what they're doing and who's showing you how to do it. There were some key points about making corn tortillas that you have to <i>feel, </i>like the consistency of the dough, the amount of pressure to apply with the press, how hot to have the griddle. I have two wonderful women to thank, Maria Solis and La Señora del Taco Bar at Güero's. And that griddle! Another "old Austin" find -- 1970's, Davis Hardware, which used to be on Congress Avenue, around 3rd street, if memory serves.<br />
<br />
And then I practiced. A lot. We now have tacos once a week, just so I can practice making corn tortillas. I've finally gotten good enough at it that they puff up on their own! And, they are delicious.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Grilled salmon and pear salad</span><br />
<br />
I finished out the month with a salad from a cookbook I bought on one of my trips to Boulder, Colorado, when I was studying at Naropa. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Colorado-Colore-Celebrating-Culinary-Artistry/dp/0960394672" target="_blank">Colorado Colore</a> was published by the Junior League of Denver, Co. Filled with great recipes, it really does try to convey something essential about Colorado cuisine. I'm not sure it succeeds, but I've found that whatever I've chosen from the book to try always turns out good.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3OFtwNitSuM_kdPhmlfRpGi3TliJgxGnv2oUwcMEIwv6TufN9lN3hte_LB_jjp1hDHB4xqHI3MY6ovnK79RJfP-YVUeGoTIvxfHeC38SO_nxSGsH65Gpr7WNiGnRcSsUm1qh/s1600/SalmonPearSalad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3OFtwNitSuM_kdPhmlfRpGi3TliJgxGnv2oUwcMEIwv6TufN9lN3hte_LB_jjp1hDHB4xqHI3MY6ovnK79RJfP-YVUeGoTIvxfHeC38SO_nxSGsH65Gpr7WNiGnRcSsUm1qh/s200/SalmonPearSalad.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colorado Colore - Salmon <br />
Pear Salad</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This week I bought Concorde Pears and Coho Salmon and put together this beautiful, quick and easy salad that we just gobbled up. The dressing, the pears and the salmon seemed like they were just made for each other. Truly delicious.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All the other things...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
This recollection of a month of focusing on books about food only describes a fraction of what I read, cooked, baked and discovered. Among the other old favorites and new discoveries were<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Joy-Cooking-Irma-S-Rombauer/dp/0743246268" target="_blank"> Joy of Cooking's</a> Pecan Puffs ("rich and devastating" the authors accurately describe them), a couple of lasagnes with homemade sauce from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Figs-Table-Todd-English/dp/0684852640" target="_blank">The Figs Table</a>, a Fruited Chicken Salad from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/California-Cooking-Parties-Picnics-Celebrations/dp/0517560836" target="_blank">California Cooking</a>, several batches of Spiced Caramel Pear Jam from recipes I found on the Internet, my favorite of which was <a href="http://southernfood.about.com/od/jamsjellies/r/r80810h.htm" target="_blank">Southern Cooking's</a>, <a href="http://www.food.com/recipe/corn-and-cheddar-cheese-chowder-206940" target="_blank">Corn and Cheddar Chowder</a> from <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Vegetarian-Epicure-262-Recipes/dp/0804170541" target="_blank">Vegetarian Epicure, Book One</a>, and 'Pie Apple' Scones, made from the recipe I described above for Blueberry Lemon Scones. Nice month!<br />
<br />
And I'm already into October: I'm taking on croissants and pain au chocolat this month -- after reading extensively about them online, watching videos, and practicing the basic technique with rough puff pastry (the french version of pie crust), I've got my recipe figured out and I start on them tonight. They take 3 days to make...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-77060763475917898982016-09-09T12:17:00.001-05:002016-09-09T12:17:09.206-05:00Amazing august<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Pz5Ib6W_D1y1nyf8iNNA1YZ9sG4XKWmPGFiDXHML_XvRO4TuFFi057EX8Sf932Oi23Snl_fbMkwhL8ScTSp-5ksyj-I8fCBIZmuXhEFdL8g6GN55ErOCKBZPch9Ds3Oacxj/s1600/IncaDove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Pz5Ib6W_D1y1nyf8iNNA1YZ9sG4XKWmPGFiDXHML_XvRO4TuFFi057EX8Sf932Oi23Snl_fbMkwhL8ScTSp-5ksyj-I8fCBIZmuXhEFdL8g6GN55ErOCKBZPch9Ds3Oacxj/s320/IncaDove.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inca Doves: No hope; no hope; no hope. <br />CC*BY J. Labrador</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Normally one of our driest and hottest months, August usually brings to mind the mournful cry of the Inca Dove: "no hope; no hope; no hope."<br />
<br />
But not this year!<br />
<br />
It was cooler than usual and rainy (rain! in August!), so gardens that normally do no more than simply hang on until Fall thrived. We experienced a magnificent renaissance of branches, leaves and blooms. September has been a bit dryer, but still unusually cool, so the exuberance of August continues. No doubt we'll pay for this later on, somehow, but for now, we're celebrating.<br />
<br />
One day a week or so ago I counted no fewer than 35 different kinds of flowers blooming in my relatively wild garden. This very nearly rivals the peak of spring bloom here. Just amazing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mjqySzJujT0olZor6SH48U6Lrb5ZB_2xT_SnZamF1BZ1iiw43pVOP-qEJsJbf_9Za1KrFGiBtAMpIDidz_CLtF7TZep9CQ7Dy-iJnqKmbe0y-gtNKoa5a5yPcqKPUS7KjRNE/s1600/IMG_1465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mjqySzJujT0olZor6SH48U6Lrb5ZB_2xT_SnZamF1BZ1iiw43pVOP-qEJsJbf_9Za1KrFGiBtAMpIDidz_CLtF7TZep9CQ7Dy-iJnqKmbe0y-gtNKoa5a5yPcqKPUS7KjRNE/s200/IMG_1465.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Schoolhouse lilies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Mornings are cool and shady, easy to enjoy in the garden, whether just sitting and marveling at the abundance, or puttering around with the typical garden chores, snipping something here, propping up something there, watering a parched pot, cutting some flowers for the kitchen table.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcpDpJw0_e31s4QYa8CYh_Dt8GW15KqSlUQlIAWxQJWPaQ0cpzSIKN8VcyF0TzLm84ZBugJPlMPG2F5ne0N7cH1-OwYLBeYF9eaA55yuIOwcc0K9Pp5Aqrc_VChxbXxWGDsAH/s1600/IMG_1492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkcpDpJw0_e31s4QYa8CYh_Dt8GW15KqSlUQlIAWxQJWPaQ0cpzSIKN8VcyF0TzLm84ZBugJPlMPG2F5ne0N7cH1-OwYLBeYF9eaA55yuIOwcc0K9Pp5Aqrc_VChxbXxWGDsAH/s200/IMG_1492.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hibiscus Cecelia with Tritonia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Even from inside the house, the views out the windows to the garden are a delight with the sunshine lighting up the reds of the caladiums, magnifying the intensity of the different greens of the understory foliage plants, or dappling the deck or the paths through the overgrown borders.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWbyPM8AsuJSEZSwVzf2DhOvssl9Kk9tdl4JHdEDWuUMBi2Fwf40oe4Zx3Hxja-1u1jETLYySYS4REKRUHRMo0FlqC6WoFklOmig4d-93w6-ZVnJFuRP-0-iqeNiu84JOz1vY/s1600/FrontPorch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWbyPM8AsuJSEZSwVzf2DhOvssl9Kk9tdl4JHdEDWuUMBi2Fwf40oe4Zx3Hxja-1u1jETLYySYS4REKRUHRMo0FlqC6WoFklOmig4d-93w6-ZVnJFuRP-0-iqeNiu84JOz1vY/s200/FrontPorch.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front porch pot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now to a lot of folks, this will seem like much ado about nothing, but either those folks don't care much for gardens, or they're probably used to beautiful luxuriant gardens in August. It's all relative, I know. And here in Texas in August, this August is special.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXyfPbPPqtttf3bDyLxvyQlEWTxDjmCwLSEEYYU_M4J4cbgYxG1V8FexdK_KNawro1tw_lU9rtg6I0KPYLqBFUzQ72N-fgbaDlf2zcUTjKecrTgJUpJcQfn6gl2J7Kc62Wz4o/s1600/IMG_1385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXyfPbPPqtttf3bDyLxvyQlEWTxDjmCwLSEEYYU_M4J4cbgYxG1V8FexdK_KNawro1tw_lU9rtg6I0KPYLqBFUzQ72N-fgbaDlf2zcUTjKecrTgJUpJcQfn6gl2J7Kc62Wz4o/s200/IMG_1385.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rock rose</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Rock roses, begonias, torenia, Mexican petunias, impatiens, tritonia, turk's cap, bind weed, lantana, widow's tears, wadelia, all putting on a show...<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWv0eJoQslxdGyl3aIQm8oI5RTHANsxqSmYmVZUIYXP5btddJG2v9bHC-TZFMSH40cvse1g1YtLeVkm5dyXn74_d7mP-Zk1EqSmrm48m2WZKxoOcYPbPLvoq18icl-vImOoSi/s1600/IMG_1473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWv0eJoQslxdGyl3aIQm8oI5RTHANsxqSmYmVZUIYXP5btddJG2v9bHC-TZFMSH40cvse1g1YtLeVkm5dyXn74_d7mP-Zk1EqSmrm48m2WZKxoOcYPbPLvoq18icl-vImOoSi/s200/IMG_1473.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Begonias and torenia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB64uUDiuCQs8i_q1-3IkYuVrB32m9LSJQy2NZFZPlY3mWY6RJbBUmECpO5SszL6SVL8oCcWk0N7QWI0NYGEEyyye4daNDWKMj_G6qg_p4ksnrpmlA9C1fHWm-fhsnoYNOSMbl/s1600/IMG_1484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB64uUDiuCQs8i_q1-3IkYuVrB32m9LSJQy2NZFZPlY3mWY6RJbBUmECpO5SszL6SVL8oCcWk0N7QWI0NYGEEyyye4daNDWKMj_G6qg_p4ksnrpmlA9C1fHWm-fhsnoYNOSMbl/s200/IMG_1484.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impatiens</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmfbCgeOQionr8JnNyTGxXAsWkKxqBjOiy2JKvSTneoN8fWjIF2IaA6lBPCk-0j0VmYYHfoRD6cbjDTF5SQrn4crjJvwVBvQtOpz_Bdp-jgHvtXiBpt3i5UHq0nElFZySyv0N/s1600/IMG_1464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzmfbCgeOQionr8JnNyTGxXAsWkKxqBjOiy2JKvSTneoN8fWjIF2IaA6lBPCk-0j0VmYYHfoRD6cbjDTF5SQrn4crjJvwVBvQtOpz_Bdp-jgHvtXiBpt3i5UHq0nElFZySyv0N/s200/IMG_1464.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wadelia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div>
Well, I could go on, but I'm sure you've got the point. I just want to remember it. August, 2016.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-30873291488076172792016-09-05T17:50:00.001-05:002016-09-06T13:29:53.568-05:0065 turns around the sun<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgp4Lk5l5x0YRPqKgIoO9dX9xCBjI7HhB9og4MbCmK5Ifu0H1mEZpuSLHizc0t8X3w3VTxhVopOCgv_bOz55QO6i_TiWZSfR7IJ162fa3armA1rxaW-n5do6D4UJRIMabPMRqH/s1600/IMG_1387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgp4Lk5l5x0YRPqKgIoO9dX9xCBjI7HhB9og4MbCmK5Ifu0H1mEZpuSLHizc0t8X3w3VTxhVopOCgv_bOz55QO6i_TiWZSfR7IJ162fa3armA1rxaW-n5do6D4UJRIMabPMRqH/s200/IMG_1387.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday at <a href="http://amysicecreams.com/" target="_blank">Amy's</a>: Mexican<br />
Vanilla, Dark Chocolate,<br />
and Whipped Cream</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For me, birthdays are getting less and less exciting. But, still, it's a birthday, and though the celebration might not be exuberant, or widely announced, I'm still celebrating. This year, Dennis and I went to San Francisco for a long weekend. We thought we'd be escaping Austin's typically hot, humid and dry August, but actually, August has been a real delight this year. But, it's no San Francisco!<br />
<br />
It would have been really hard not to be excited about, and happy to be in San Francisco. We lived there briefly, towards the end of the time during which I worked for Pillsbury, Madison and Sutro as a brand new attorney. It's always a nostalgia thing to visit again. But this time, it was like a whole new experience, because things have just changed a whole lot! Us and San Francisco.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FOazDaAXuik4REsmW-IimDFDiQQ0PZJXypEF8Oj9iUYCqWOel0b5jVnT57pQkbGMn-Gb71ODfLVMhk02QTLNWuQMu4ZVoFo9X2gGujwIgSoIQT9qCTHApd_P0-Kb51gGs5Va/s1600/streetcar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FOazDaAXuik4REsmW-IimDFDiQQ0PZJXypEF8Oj9iUYCqWOel0b5jVnT57pQkbGMn-Gb71ODfLVMhk02QTLNWuQMu4ZVoFo9X2gGujwIgSoIQT9qCTHApd_P0-Kb51gGs5Va/s320/streetcar.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Streetcar 1040, J Line, from <a href="http://telstarlogistics.typepad.com/telstarlogistics/2012/12/inside-san-franciscos-vintage-streetcar-boneyard-.html" target="_blank">Telstar Logistics</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We stayed on Nob Hill, so every single trip anywhere included as a free bonus, a super-uphill climb to get back to our hotel. Nice! Oh, admittedly, we got Metro passes as soon as we could and took a Cable Car or a bus a lot of the time, but not every time. And then there was that nice long ride on the F Line Streetcar!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.streetcar.org/wheels-motion/difference/" target="_blank">San Francisco has a fantastic collection of 1930's and 40's streetcars</a> from all over the country, and even from Mexico and Canada. All of them are refurbished and look almost like new, but they're not. <a href="http://telstarlogistics.typepad.com/telstarlogistics/2012/12/inside-san-franciscos-vintage-streetcar-boneyard-.html" target="_blank">They're the real deal!</a><br />
<br />
Dennis planned and executed the whole trip, as his present for me, so I just got to sit back, relax, and be amused! Naturally, we ate at wonderful restaurants and had great cocktails.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgm_xpK2-leNgh4qyWJ8nMoE-jTkvYNoyh-PsLiw7jolXXV7HS1DjkMUh49fA64Ep7BQBPcJ6hpk2KnQOlXOp0VKEKa-fIoYchFZ7TRV1aiYymFxLllRS23ktZya_Gmy8Z0Vaw/s1600/IMG_1404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgm_xpK2-leNgh4qyWJ8nMoE-jTkvYNoyh-PsLiw7jolXXV7HS1DjkMUh49fA64Ep7BQBPcJ6hpk2KnQOlXOp0VKEKa-fIoYchFZ7TRV1aiYymFxLllRS23ktZya_Gmy8Z0Vaw/s320/IMG_1404.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boulevard's interior, with Bay Bridge<br />
lights through the windows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Our first night, we visited <a href="http://www.boulevardrestaurant.com/#intro" target="_blank">Boulevard</a>, which calls a Belle Epoch building, perfectly refurbished with gorgeous period aplomb, its home. Abe, our bartender, made us absolutely perfect drinks, and dinner was a delight. Off to a great start.<br />
<br />
Boulevard is right down by the water, across the street from <a href="http://www.ferrybuildingmarketplace.com/" target="_blank">Ferry Plaza.</a> The Oakland Bay bridge starts its span across the Bay right there, and through the front windows of the restaurant I could see a light show the bridge puts on throughout our dinner. So, after dinner, we walked across to the water and watched for awhile. With a full moon above, quite a scene.<br />
<br />
The next morning, we returned to Ferry Plaza, but this time to visit the Farmer's Market. There's no mistaking where you are inside this market's covered section (Rancho Gordo, Blue Bottle, etc.), and outside, you're right along the Bay of course. I could have spent the whole day there.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMsCYbSU0npY69yeJWugr_u_Nvtu5iHfev_5r5q_fBVJYI0pbqaMGzKwtjyBV9K_jf5u85oz1qDGrHk21iDV5xmqJDPwtge8frZhyphenhyphenUWHyqVu6Iel4rMffsXVZeDLSPOS2XCoU/s1600/IMG_1416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNMsCYbSU0npY69yeJWugr_u_Nvtu5iHfev_5r5q_fBVJYI0pbqaMGzKwtjyBV9K_jf5u85oz1qDGrHk21iDV5xmqJDPwtge8frZhyphenhyphenUWHyqVu6Iel4rMffsXVZeDLSPOS2XCoU/s320/IMG_1416.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Dinner Saturday night was totally different. We ate at <a href="http://www.alsplacesf.com/lqyi01vc8sknncqidpuxkjzezk9j9f" target="_blank">Al's Place</a>. It was a bit like <a href="http://oddduckaustin.com/" target="_blank">Odd Duck, in Austin</a>, but with a Michelin star, so wow! Lots of small plates to share, all fantastic. It was in the far south of the Mission District, and sort of like a NY hipster place. Well, we knew it was San Francisco hipster when our waitress told us that the chef suggested we eat our salad with our fingers. We did, of course, and you should have seen the look on the guy's face who sat at the table next to ours. He'd already confided in us that he was totally out of his element, that he was actually from New York, just not the hipster New York...<br />
<br />
Sunday morning we hiked a few blocks down the hill to <a href="http://thetexaspeach.com/food/a-taste-of-san-francisco-taylor-street-coffee-house/" target="_blank">Taylor Street Coffee Shop</a> for breakfast. This place always has a line, but we were lucky to arrive at a time when it didn't extend outside the very tight entry-way. Our wait was only about 15 minutes.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTN_brkWQM7-t2T64bH1ByyBI-KhHH-6CfoEPNYAjrlmFiqOf0BiwaxgoE8JAYsLO8ZWLytGiNZGonCXpffXLwTi_pLzQXZa4s_cFPL74uwVLw61dTTBegJRilMZFdBpiLVki/s1600/taylor_street_coffee_shop_-_Google_Search.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimTN_brkWQM7-t2T64bH1ByyBI-KhHH-6CfoEPNYAjrlmFiqOf0BiwaxgoE8JAYsLO8ZWLytGiNZGonCXpffXLwTi_pLzQXZa4s_cFPL74uwVLw61dTTBegJRilMZFdBpiLVki/s320/taylor_street_coffee_shop_-_Google_Search.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.google.com/maps/uv?hl=en&pb=!1s0x8085808fc70489ef%3A0x1eea88b0bf96f0e1!2m5!2m2!1i80!2i80!3m1!2i20!3m1!7e115!4shttps%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Flh%2Fsredir%3Funame%3D107742059751171695340%26id%3D6210630301172859634%26target%3DPHOTO!5staylor%20street%20coffee%20shop%20-%20Google%20Search&imagekey=!1e3!2s-FHqpY4U66vo%2FV2oLKjBfzvI%2FAAAAAAAAkL0%2FRolnsshTp1MTDqE2k6ExRrwrGdxJ8TVzwCLIB&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwje8vWYkfnOAhVD7CYKHUy1DbAQoioIfTAK" target="_blank">Taylor Street Coffee Shop, Roy Gregorio, Google Maps</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The cafe seats about 20 people, and it couldn't be any more than about 12-15' wide, about the width of taco truck, and not a whole lot longer. Apparently run by a family of food stylists, Taylor Street turns out all the typical breakfast dishes you'd expect, tout suite, but presents them as gorgeously as if they were being offered on the cover of Bon Appetit. And they were just as delicious as they were gorgeous. Dennis went back the next morning, while I had a rendez-vous with my friend, Sandee, whom I'd met in April in Paris, where we both were studying French. More on that meeting, at Tartine, in a minute.<br />
<br />
We spent the afternoon in Golden Gate Park, walking most of its length, visiting among other things the sweet little Japanese Garden. We came upon a delightful celebration of Hungary's 1000th anniversary as a country at a bandstand, and felt mysteriously compelled to eat hot dogs and ice cream while we watched the performances. And then there were the roller-skating folks with the capes flying. Not something I've seen lately in Austin. But, I haven't looked for it. Who knows?<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxobxOUNccKy9_TuYEXldIbafjVrreDu9A1Raw2GWguD0YipvdUQHshz6qTF-drM43z4GWKhRxf9gCyPfxROLCa5356Nt0ZWCc7hsB5m3W0USFLxIW7n4n1ITtZYFRRQ3a2lrT/s1600/IMG_1425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxobxOUNccKy9_TuYEXldIbafjVrreDu9A1Raw2GWguD0YipvdUQHshz6qTF-drM43z4GWKhRxf9gCyPfxROLCa5356Nt0ZWCc7hsB5m3W0USFLxIW7n4n1ITtZYFRRQ3a2lrT/s320/IMG_1425.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Japanese Garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sunday nite we were back at Ferry Plaza, for another drink at Boulevard (Abe graciously obliged us) and dinner at <a href="http://www.slanteddoor.com/" target="_blank">Slanted Door</a>, a sort of nouveau Thai place that really impressed! Totally modern, upscale interior, attentive waiters, and gorgeous appetizers and entrees. Unfortunately, we were too totally satisfied to try dessert. They're known for a gingery cotton candy affair.<br />
<br />
Monday Sandee picked me up at the hotel and we drove down to Tartine for brunch, and to speak french for awhile. We've been meeting virtually to chat in french each week since we returned from France. Helps us keep up at least some of what we learned while we were there.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.tartinebakery.com/" target="_blank">Tartine</a> is famous for its artisanal loaves, as well as croissants, tarts, pizza and quiche. It's another place that seems always to have a line.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz4QcO0q9SqLWS62bVOr-3GAGAZko6DumZ-vZNLoBi955uWFs8aJOOsduxtZJ1VK0HX5KXSTJBMyvFBuc2TRULwbdLjO20bzDxIgpdLabbTppA1R3CSnRKtJkT-rTW2Z_woMmb/s1600/tartine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz4QcO0q9SqLWS62bVOr-3GAGAZko6DumZ-vZNLoBi955uWFs8aJOOsduxtZJ1VK0HX5KXSTJBMyvFBuc2TRULwbdLjO20bzDxIgpdLabbTppA1R3CSnRKtJkT-rTW2Z_woMmb/s320/tartine.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tartine, photo from <a href="http://sharedappetite.com/eat/tartine-bakery/" target="_blank">Shared Appetite</a>, where Chris Cockren<br />
posted a really nice piece about his visit to Tartine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This one was long when we got there, and only got longer during the time were were there. It was, as everyone says, well worth it. Perfect croissants. And a lot closer than Paris. Well, not close enough though. I doubt I'll ever have another. At least I've got <a href="https://cafenoseaustin.com/" target="_blank">No Se in Austin</a>. Pastry Chef Amanda Rockman totally nails the Paris croissant, to say nothing of her fabulous Kouign Amann!<br />
<br />
Monday evening, we headed to the airport and returned home on the red-eye. Nice trip! Nice birthday! Thanks Dennis.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-37615187647285790902016-08-04T07:55:00.000-05:002016-08-10T19:47:20.600-05:00Camp Plum!<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0M2xj7P_PQCyjvaJejKUzugXPexA5AG2sSJq353qGmNnZVKGCgfAde-X1VS3FtjwJvovQjXFveSnHE7taCV5qAc3JiI53FdPUs0ca4ltkhMGVdybHba_A5ISPwDPuYOuKr-d7/s1600/mexicanplum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0M2xj7P_PQCyjvaJejKUzugXPexA5AG2sSJq353qGmNnZVKGCgfAde-X1VS3FtjwJvovQjXFveSnHE7taCV5qAc3JiI53FdPUs0ca4ltkhMGVdybHba_A5ISPwDPuYOuKr-d7/s200/mexicanplum.jpg" width="194" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mexican plum tree, early August</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As a kid, I loved summer. It was everything good and nothing bad: endless hours of doing whatever I wanted, staying with my grandparents, playing with the neighborhood (or nearby farm) kids, exploring, discovering. Just nonstop fun, fun, fun.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLxaDD0KcrlKC3FMsEnWRawFhGnDTDSJl0wzzgR2XPRtWfegzmvGNeYTjGPMig88s_szQKScKgy-nZCp2qEY559QlzI_biAh-MSeTbpjzYBB28RNWwtW24kPOqaPrtRHWkExC/s1600/jack%2526me2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLxaDD0KcrlKC3FMsEnWRawFhGnDTDSJl0wzzgR2XPRtWfegzmvGNeYTjGPMig88s_szQKScKgy-nZCp2qEY559QlzI_biAh-MSeTbpjzYBB28RNWwtW24kPOqaPrtRHWkExC/s200/jack%2526me2.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack & me, at Grandma Bobb's <br />
for the summer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Heat? Wasn't bothered by it.<br />
<br />
Only one thing was missing. I always hoped I'd get to go to summer camp one summer, but that just didn't happen. Truth was, my grandparents' houses were close enough to summer camp, but I didn't realize that at the time. As I got older and summers began to mean summer jobs instead of summer fun, and then after college summer just disappeared into the normal work year, that heat became the only thing summer meant anymore, heat and humidity. Summer certainly lost its appeal.<br />
<br />
A lifetime of working for a living later...<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrotUoQXbpDcydSZGS5dcX-0FUWM0tSyzqmgkvKOUFIcekajWWpbMQdckUwD0KZJvvK7oHaglCNBt5pGDeVGVfx4tyesT685tK_Rb2gqkOHecfOZiCq0GE8TvZVJ2NASa4C4H/s1600/IMG_1361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrotUoQXbpDcydSZGS5dcX-0FUWM0tSyzqmgkvKOUFIcekajWWpbMQdckUwD0KZJvvK7oHaglCNBt5pGDeVGVfx4tyesT685tK_Rb2gqkOHecfOZiCq0GE8TvZVJ2NASa4C4H/s320/IMG_1361.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp Plum's gardens and Kitty Girl</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've been in summer camp all summer this year! Camp Plum this week. The name changes as my interests drift from one thing to another. This camp lets you do whatever you want, and there are no schedules other than the ones you set for yourself!<br />
<br />
It's been a birding camp; lots of magic in the kitchen camp; French camp; meditation camp; reading mysteries camp; gardening camp. Whatever!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
So, Camp Plum. </h3>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KYEvuoeiQhVZgo6O5mRfpPBoKXQEEXm2i4aex0Jd2KpA7_725u-uIXiXeEcGq8-JE-Hhj_EMjI2hEqznHLofNtfQUwxUZGfLuIR_EsETolnugJ9te8cGl3j4oIcdn28IPR3h/s1600/IMG_1375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KYEvuoeiQhVZgo6O5mRfpPBoKXQEEXm2i4aex0Jd2KpA7_725u-uIXiXeEcGq8-JE-Hhj_EMjI2hEqznHLofNtfQUwxUZGfLuIR_EsETolnugJ9te8cGl3j4oIcdn28IPR3h/s200/IMG_1375.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mexican plums</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've got a Mexican Plum tree in the front yard that always produces loads of beautiful little plums, but they're mostly pit and skin and little flesh, and way more trouble than they're worth, or so I used to think. But last year I read about how chef Jesse Griffiths at <a href="http://www.daidue.com/" target="_blank">Dai Due</a>, who is totally local everything, made the sourdough starter that the restaurant uses for all its baked goods from the wild Mustang grapes that he found growing on the alley across his street. Local flavors, indeed. I'd tried making a sourdough starter from apple peels myself, some years ago, and it was good, but I'd used organic apples from... who knows where? Not here though. So I decided to try making one with these plums, even though I'd have to wait until late summer.<br />
<br />
Once the plums started falling, late July, I thought about jam too and it turns out, they need very little processing to go from fruit on the sidewalk (warm and incredibly fragrant) to jam in the fridge. About 30 minutes But there's a lot of room for experimenting, which I love. How long to cook them the first boil? How much sugar? How long to boil the juice and sugar? Pulp or no pulp? A rolling boil or a gentle simmer? Lid on or lid off? A few skins in the juice for color? How much pectin is in the plums? Do I need to add any? How much ripe versus underripe fruit? All these things make a difference, and so there's room to play with this for at least a week. And the plums keep coming. Small batches! Perfect for experimenting.<br />
<br />
Yesterday these two experiments came together in fresh, hot 'plum sourdough' bread, right out of the oven, tartiné with butter and homemade plum jam. Incredibly delicious, both of them.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Here are the results of the experiments. <br />First, the jam:</h3>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDHMROam7wIcmIO3CgFhXG03t2GudnekP0xZ7fQ7td4aHMD6uszKuAhimSVp13mF9GKOolbwqod9GWiGbc22x79XoEn3l0QslwNm5eemfbXLAdIhkKpNvQ8CK09CQUvaofbyB/s1600/IMG_1359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDHMROam7wIcmIO3CgFhXG03t2GudnekP0xZ7fQ7td4aHMD6uszKuAhimSVp13mF9GKOolbwqod9GWiGbc22x79XoEn3l0QslwNm5eemfbXLAdIhkKpNvQ8CK09CQUvaofbyB/s200/IMG_1359.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished jam (first experiment)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I made very small batches because I only collected the fruit that fell on the sidewalk, and after a couple of days I'd have at most a cup or two of plums. That will make a small amount of jam. Good size for an experiment.<br />
<br />
You pit the plums (I used a cherry pitter I'd bought earlier in the season to make <a href="http://www.reclaimingprovincial.com/2012/09/05/cherry-balsamic-shurb/" target="_blank">Cherry balsamic shrub</a>), cut them in half to remove any flesh that's insect damaged or over-ripe (a lot of people apparently skip this step entirely, but ewww!), then put them in a small saucepan just covering them with water (filtered or spring). Bring to a boil and boil for 5 or so minutes.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaBS0rpKz7TEcNzjNoVBkgzpx0Y_5LuEyFpfg9TwP29BVytxQhjqIR8b-RNrC-YyU39G23ZuYxYEf89MHVztfvDPWcaw1Y2cO8d0NK37zVnSBHom4XSqrB0nTzzbJyAJ95nkk/s1600/IMG_1358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaBS0rpKz7TEcNzjNoVBkgzpx0Y_5LuEyFpfg9TwP29BVytxQhjqIR8b-RNrC-YyU39G23ZuYxYEf89MHVztfvDPWcaw1Y2cO8d0NK37zVnSBHom4XSqrB0nTzzbJyAJ95nkk/s200/IMG_1358.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First boil</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This first boil makes the next step easier: Pour the water through a sieve into a measuring cup, and use the back of a spoon to press the flesh against the sieve, so that some of the flesh goes through, as much as you want (no flesh and you'd be making jelly; some flesh and you get jam). You can throw into the juice/flesh mix a few bits of the plum peel if you want. It's supposed to deepen the shade of rose the jam becomes as it cooks.<br />
<br />
Notice how much juice/flesh mix you've got in your measuring cup and add an equal amount of sugar. These plums are not sweet. They are really yummy, but quite tart. You'll have to be your own judge on the amount of sugar. From what I understand, it can affect the jell, but this stuff jells so quickly that I'm not sure normal guidelines for assuring jell are all that helpful.<br />
<br />
Stir to blend the sugar in with the juice/flesh mixture, and return it all to your saucepan. There's a lot of pectin in the skins of these plums, and the less ripe they are, the more there is. So, depending on what you started with, whether you have the lid on or off, and how rapid a boil you've got, this step might take only a few minutes. Bring the mix to a boil and let it continue to boil for 10 - 15 minutes or so.<br />
<br />
Or so...<br />
<br />
Jam is not rocket science, but everyone's tastes are different and what's just right for me might be too firm or too runny for you. There are tried and true tests for jelling. First is 220 degrees. Believe me, this jam does not need to go that high. It's way too firm after that much boiling. Better to try the more subjective tests, for example, coating a spoon with the boiling jell and seeing if, when you run something (maybe not your finger! this stuff can be hot!) through the jell on the back of the spoon, the gully you make stays there. Does it stay? Enough boiling. Does it go right back together? Not enough boiling. Another test: drop a little on a saucer you've been keeping in the freezer. Does it stiffen up within a few seconds? It's done.<br />
<br />
For a medium kind of jam, I found that you could get away with very little cooking at all, 10 - 15 minutes, at a medium boil, lid on some times, off others (I was testing a lot!). But there are so many variables. It's really best to use one of the "has it jelled yet" tests until you know your fruit, your stove and all that.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Now, for the sourdough:</h3>
<br />
This one is the opposite of the jam in terms of time. It takes 5 - 6 days to get a well-developed sourdough from the yeast that lives naturally on the peels of wild fruit. I used about 6 plums for this. All you have to do is lightly rinse your fruit and trim some of the peel with some flesh attached into a small bowl. Cover with water and add a tablespoon of all purpose flour (AP), a tablespoon of whole wheat or a multigrain flour and 1/2 teaspoon of sugar. Stir it up. It ought to be a very watery mix.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5DTQvrAghH2ikI2MnirXqDK38riYDYtIFz6Qg6BUt-Sf0jpy0RoFMg9E2JpQ5unbBEtn7iT9A3U1AihOdmIWdAXPM4bMlPxJtxPCYH5CXXKr5kCGlEd1mOh6oy6aq8diSdPp/s1600/IMG_1356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5DTQvrAghH2ikI2MnirXqDK38riYDYtIFz6Qg6BUt-Sf0jpy0RoFMg9E2JpQ5unbBEtn7iT9A3U1AihOdmIWdAXPM4bMlPxJtxPCYH5CXXKr5kCGlEd1mOh6oy6aq8diSdPp/s200/IMG_1356.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watery mix, day one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Cover lightly and forget about it. Actually that part is hard to do. I found myself checking on it constantly. You so want to see it start bubbling and telling you that this is going to work. But it doesn't do that for awhile. So you have to be patient.<br />
<br />
Day two, three, four and five, add another 2 tablespoons of flour (your choice about the amounts of each) and another 1/2 teaspoon of sugar. The mix ought to be getting a little thicker each day, but still be pretty wet. I began to see clear signs of bubbling by about the fourth day.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-WZ_W7lWwy8HdqnbuK5YIcZyBggtvYV9HsR3wZYPkHRME4D9prSb7UR9oz5zR4HI8lKS8aT9DWWqF0JDmYMhs5XXNX2BG8wXgMZ_YAgMWnTo9Ac_HKwko8qUDxOWHbkmG-eo/s1600/IMG_1368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-WZ_W7lWwy8HdqnbuK5YIcZyBggtvYV9HsR3wZYPkHRME4D9prSb7UR9oz5zR4HI8lKS8aT9DWWqF0JDmYMhs5XXNX2BG8wXgMZ_YAgMWnTo9Ac_HKwko8qUDxOWHbkmG-eo/s200/IMG_1368.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last day, mix at normal <br />
sourdough consistency</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On the sixth day, remove the fruit skins and bring the mix up to normal sourdough consistency (like nut-bread or muffin batter) by adding AP flour and perhaps a little more water, and another 1/2 teaspoon of sugar. For me, after about 4 hours, this mixture was acting just like my regular sourdough would have. Success! I decided to save out half of it (into a glass jar, and into the fridge) and make a test loaf with the other half to be sure it didn't have any off flavors. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooNXR1dVokJOkoGScwTghfAjn7j14xsk3tzU1UoykZYi06pz59EWSG9VAO7bsyyZDIGz0r_6aRBOal8L2ib37q8iUN4IwhvGL5hzgCn3PasRJ4Y44Ts9j0zlEmE3vzIZhLhyphenhypheng/s1600/IMG_1377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooNXR1dVokJOkoGScwTghfAjn7j14xsk3tzU1UoykZYi06pz59EWSG9VAO7bsyyZDIGz0r_6aRBOal8L2ib37q8iUN4IwhvGL5hzgCn3PasRJ4Y44Ts9j0zlEmE3vzIZhLhyphenhypheng/s200/IMG_1377.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toast with jam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The results were really wonderful. Local flavor for sure!<br />
<br />
And up next -- <a href="http://www.reclaimingprovincial.com/2012/10/24/three-delicious-shrubs/" target="_blank">Plum orange shrub</a>. As soon as I collect another cup or two of plums...<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5oST64Prn5QZWIYa7S2zXT6VxRrooGWCNdu2gK5O1C9aw2IlOXsMJy9Md1I3KfgVFWnRZtr8nGLaOwKOvXs96fch_nIpUCUFV-gaXhdIvowVVBM4tV5fS1mVCeYd8uCq091h/s1600/plum+orange+shrub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5oST64Prn5QZWIYa7S2zXT6VxRrooGWCNdu2gK5O1C9aw2IlOXsMJy9Md1I3KfgVFWnRZtr8nGLaOwKOvXs96fch_nIpUCUFV-gaXhdIvowVVBM4tV5fS1mVCeYd8uCq091h/s200/plum+orange+shrub.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plum orange shrub</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
And the shrub</h3>
<br />
Well, that didn't take long. The tree hit its stride, and I got a windfall all of a sudden. Gayle Engels, who has since moved to Oregon, introduced me to a few shrub recipes last summer and I'm a true believer now. So far though, I'd only used organic produce from the grocery store. Since these plums worked so well for jam and sourdough, I thought they'd probably make a nice shrub too, and they did not disappoint!<br />
<br />
I won't go into details about the process, since you can read all about it and the recipe under the link above, but here's the result, all bottled up and ready to go. I will definitely let it age a few more days before I serve it on ice with Topo Chico. We've got plenty of hot summer days still to go here in Austin.<br />
<br />Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-10553730332105853012016-05-24T12:54:00.000-05:002016-05-24T13:16:21.649-05:00The wanderingAs the final weeks of our sejour commenced, what I really wanted most to do was just to really be here, to see, to hear, to smell, touch and taste "here." So I set off wandering around in the afternoons, after my class, a nice lunch and a little homework.<br />
<br />
Dennis' daily hikes filled his head with ideas for places for us to go together -- not the monuments, museums and architecture one usually "must see," but things like someone's private Japanese garden,<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWBDI2eA5XA2j4_asTPu9GQquB-9RnCCwhKl5timyNYZ0n7BzKY9ZYrUe7fzZQW4pCmQbAoiOjPY337K88w62GGaAVnVY07UMXNx1YLekzCAxlswX96E0CzPu_nWgwdpjPQKG/s1600/japanese+garden.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWBDI2eA5XA2j4_asTPu9GQquB-9RnCCwhKl5timyNYZ0n7BzKY9ZYrUe7fzZQW4pCmQbAoiOjPY337K88w62GGaAVnVY07UMXNx1YLekzCAxlswX96E0CzPu_nWgwdpjPQKG/s200/japanese+garden.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Japanese garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
a rose that actually smells like a rose,<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxpXtyyDnwjHTmN_2iwSpoeGgSsckG62nuWUqLOTE11g92pUI-dYHRP9Mds7OSl7DLLj4yFrGfxMvGkYSI894NYdJTYgAJAqeX5KBB3jqj6e7VNgJn6McPROcT7a4TZSptMvJ/s1600/rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxpXtyyDnwjHTmN_2iwSpoeGgSsckG62nuWUqLOTE11g92pUI-dYHRP9Mds7OSl7DLLj4yFrGfxMvGkYSI894NYdJTYgAJAqeX5KBB3jqj6e7VNgJn6McPROcT7a4TZSptMvJ/s200/rose.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
a row of birches shimmering in the breeze coming off the Seine,<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtkoN7OPLSYie7gDH2CJsNwyAVMp9j7VU17UF74Rd1JeHaJ95N0NgfrxqrwJ-27X3jjOir4Ap1ojtnbwbKCXkZWzLUaSB2hqNFDq0YOC4oCwIEyLOiGT5o6WPdq6uYNO66pjC/s1600/birches+light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtkoN7OPLSYie7gDH2CJsNwyAVMp9j7VU17UF74Rd1JeHaJ95N0NgfrxqrwJ-27X3jjOir4Ap1ojtnbwbKCXkZWzLUaSB2hqNFDq0YOC4oCwIEyLOiGT5o6WPdq6uYNO66pjC/s200/birches+light.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birches along the Seine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and the taste of an apple crepe ordered at a window and carried off down the street.<br />
<br />
There's a bridge that attracts musicians. We wandered across it, enjoying a piano tune. The player was perhaps performing something that might well have been his own composition. We don't know. Notice the bride and groom who stroll across the bridge behind him. Anything can happen. It was Saturday.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzmOY8jofjOD44z538ZS2JqZQpR2QT8kR92g3f-P84sRkd3QmzrxRmep7aa_CPwxnPULHrMTY3ThqM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
One of the oh-so-many King's palaces had a rose garden. Think about this. Roses, dozens and dozens of them, some of them bound to be the poster plants for "antique roses" being perhaps centuries old ... Varieties created way before looks and carefree cultivation were all that mattered. Smell these roses. Go ahead. They don't mind. Every one of them has a unique scent. Ahhhh. All my time in this garden I spent bent over, my nose in some rose or another.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGUhIYWHTBrpIy2FnybyhHpyxLeeJNcMbqaqNffwP1kXx4En7Ayuff26Qv5nVdVz4Ra2r9cE_gROsTFzZJz366OBqzpbyEEY_T8DgDSElt7lS5HaSNLU4VVA3IWINb-LnDuQF/s1600/smelling+roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGUhIYWHTBrpIy2FnybyhHpyxLeeJNcMbqaqNffwP1kXx4En7Ayuff26Qv5nVdVz4Ra2r9cE_gROsTFzZJz366OBqzpbyEEY_T8DgDSElt7lS5HaSNLU4VVA3IWINb-LnDuQF/s200/smelling+roses.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like a bee, drawn to the flower</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One doesn't hear horns honking much in Paris, with two exceptions: marriages being celebrated by everyone who was invited to participate, as they drive apparently all over town hanging out of their windows and yelling and honking; and police convoys (and they always seem to travel in packs). So traffic has a bit of a different ring to it. It's more of a hum.<br />
<br />
And there are all these little unique shops with their windows full of different kinds of things. If you see something that interests you, you'd better just stop right there and go inside and check it out. You won't remember where you saw it, and you won't see it anywhere else. No going back!<br />
<br />
There was a hunt for the best yogurt. Yes, yum. My favorite was actually a fromage blanc with granola, served up at Telescope, near my school. Makes me want to start making yogurt again when I get home. Bread, granola, yogurt, fresh berries. Best breakfast in the world.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMJoTWaWu7meP5tx4V7GUvkEx1fkamSTRW5U6xQhebX-WOUueQOaLq5s2Yk_RvUSNm36H7t8RgfgoUKPjyhU1XdhRwyQaA2CP4uHKKSVsn6TNOKyU0auStQcGYWr0e71zdpoL/s1600/Telescope+fromage+blanc+et+granole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMJoTWaWu7meP5tx4V7GUvkEx1fkamSTRW5U6xQhebX-WOUueQOaLq5s2Yk_RvUSNm36H7t8RgfgoUKPjyhU1XdhRwyQaA2CP4uHKKSVsn6TNOKyU0auStQcGYWr0e71zdpoL/s200/Telescope+fromage+blanc+et+granole.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Telescope's fromage blanc<br />
et granole; Credit: <a href="http://www.farfelue.com/the-best-granola-in-paris/" target="_blank">Farfalue</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A lizard, fish, crawfish-looking fountain? Well, why not?<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgJGRaVLhwv1TZewIC7xdv19BKpa_6xMo0eM3ggyO7z22HFHr1rz7Mr2XHnm_VJBLND7z0vhPWjcBG6PdNnc4bLxg6CaecqKXS39277rhsTYoaaciz-bj5BGRaIYOEkpUh36O/s1600/lizard+fountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgJGRaVLhwv1TZewIC7xdv19BKpa_6xMo0eM3ggyO7z22HFHr1rz7Mr2XHnm_VJBLND7z0vhPWjcBG6PdNnc4bLxg6CaecqKXS39277rhsTYoaaciz-bj5BGRaIYOEkpUh36O/s200/lizard+fountain.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea-themed fountain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Off to the side somewhere hidden, a courtyard with an old massive port that once opened to let in coaches, once blue, now with the paint very nearly completely peeled off. Oh, and a pot of yellow pansies beside it. Someone must have thought that one through.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzrSInJu9AqJQ4CDCwjMlN4NygDaQH7O1EW-bcWkUl-vpHn1OV4JYD1G8GY8t1FCZxBH2mPF4XRcCSU9eryj8O0QgspfzSvlWTwAv-cjnjuIbP6cncrize0wCtkVhkJmqHVzg/s1600/blue+port.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzrSInJu9AqJQ4CDCwjMlN4NygDaQH7O1EW-bcWkUl-vpHn1OV4JYD1G8GY8t1FCZxBH2mPF4XRcCSU9eryj8O0QgspfzSvlWTwAv-cjnjuIbP6cncrize0wCtkVhkJmqHVzg/s200/blue+port.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blue door</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Things in the market that I've never seen before:<br />
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The roots of a celery plant.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-4ugm1TothTVu4qSocQZgUIUo5jzwuCB1BavxfRSPm6fRCROBNIJoeWtrKw82-MrvnYVzw_Epzx7Qlp1Pkhttd-l28spzC2RIflb20RelrtnKqnJfwLnYX6sxGEPG468btbE/s1600/celery+root.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-4ugm1TothTVu4qSocQZgUIUo5jzwuCB1BavxfRSPm6fRCROBNIJoeWtrKw82-MrvnYVzw_Epzx7Qlp1Pkhttd-l28spzC2RIflb20RelrtnKqnJfwLnYX6sxGEPG468btbE/s200/celery+root.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celery root</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Apples that are sort of shriveled up, each box labeled with the variety. I wonder what one does with them? One of the stories in the Premiere Gorgee de Biere was about going down to the cellar and smelling these apples, and what a treat that was. Indeed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-L8Tezy48Lv-BHHlSFef39c_bPNCJZxRAtiHqfZ6vUyxmB3zssU-TgxeA50Tjiukb13c0xyFV-tXbAGgm4WUHmt2oGjXI3_JcTYi-0-_8Uy_gd64SJJuDTKtGVv42BoAo_NxI/s1600/apples.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-L8Tezy48Lv-BHHlSFef39c_bPNCJZxRAtiHqfZ6vUyxmB3zssU-TgxeA50Tjiukb13c0xyFV-tXbAGgm4WUHmt2oGjXI3_JcTYi-0-_8Uy_gd64SJJuDTKtGVv42BoAo_NxI/s200/apples.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pommes ratatinees</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And outside a shoe store, for no good reason, an antique pitcher filled with a colorful mix of tulips in full bloom -- it's being what I'd call late winter here and all...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtgufhdbcoFYokZZF0olFH-DGwADVIH0VH8v8IP6QPJ-Eicz6-Zl0wYqdQYgM2ueJe_mo1BSteujBpsuh1AZ4lDItlppL1S3mAQe91THAB1-ED2TWNj_ooemU4YXd58AVtZTz/s1600/tulips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtgufhdbcoFYokZZF0olFH-DGwADVIH0VH8v8IP6QPJ-Eicz6-Zl0wYqdQYgM2ueJe_mo1BSteujBpsuh1AZ4lDItlppL1S3mAQe91THAB1-ED2TWNj_ooemU4YXd58AVtZTz/s200/tulips.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tulips on the sidewalk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So, this will go on for the next several days until the sun sets for the last time on our trip, we put away our things, fold everything up, compact it all into the couple of cubic feet we're allowed for luggage, and head for home!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ1j3mcmo_FZP7SdSO0bbv9VITO8GIn9a8aeLL2gGQWIo1BYHEdRCAZrb7UUdFR9bAOXypXSAAejjnFsY2x24M7QEmeIBrTFXsAi8APj_07rN8eQr5ronvdyNQBF8zLXbYbOe/s1600/sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZ1j3mcmo_FZP7SdSO0bbv9VITO8GIn9a8aeLL2gGQWIo1BYHEdRCAZrb7UUdFR9bAOXypXSAAejjnFsY2x24M7QEmeIBrTFXsAi8APj_07rN8eQr5ronvdyNQBF8zLXbYbOe/s200/sunset.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from 7 Quai Voltaire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-60344977365853706572016-05-10T10:11:00.000-05:002016-05-10T10:12:50.237-05:00Getting away from Paris for a long weekendMy french class made a weekend trip to Normandy last Friday, and I took advantage of a full day, Saturday, to relax and "faire du shopping."<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2pCuFObrgQv1cDl4h3GA8oD0a1VYhszrkeC5gnPJ3thEQBKju6gaQf4EvWnvC7YSDeC5YOjT21wE06iLzsY4-B4uf4Vcb8Yp5JRBp52nbsoHGWX4Yo8HFvhdaU3EmzGMTrKm/s1600/Bayeux+street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2pCuFObrgQv1cDl4h3GA8oD0a1VYhszrkeC5gnPJ3thEQBKju6gaQf4EvWnvC7YSDeC5YOjT21wE06iLzsY4-B4uf4Vcb8Yp5JRBp52nbsoHGWX4Yo8HFvhdaU3EmzGMTrKm/s200/Bayeux+street.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bayeux, Saturday morning</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Bayeux, the town we spent most of our time in, is small, with a walkable downtown. I had noticed on Friday night as we explored a little that there were lots of small shops with all kinds of things for sale, and it seemed like a good place to look for the little gifts I wanted to take back to friends.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOR-CS8M8Is8nVEuupahkAOnYFY4wSkOVxQ094vtspJoRBN1PEnJWFkFD637to1_dcrl4assINZIVsugE7nCYEFu8tIZMhqPqySUnq86h9BtT6CD_kYYXFc2Q7fFMzVlyrqhf/s1600/Bayeux+botique.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOR-CS8M8Is8nVEuupahkAOnYFY4wSkOVxQ094vtspJoRBN1PEnJWFkFD637to1_dcrl4assINZIVsugE7nCYEFu8tIZMhqPqySUnq86h9BtT6CD_kYYXFc2Q7fFMzVlyrqhf/s200/Bayeux+botique.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gift shop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcn6yWtv_iARRLy6AGQjZgQ4V4dAme7fu9pgTttDdG0wFLz5NJ1BNfavZ6RTlQP-AsujW-VYIjKAZV3AhuvwyMxNR1rLDrDqgRmz908LCmqifQiPVRuRrUJbrErRudVbqmt4C/s1600/Bayeux+antique+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcn6yWtv_iARRLy6AGQjZgQ4V4dAme7fu9pgTttDdG0wFLz5NJ1BNfavZ6RTlQP-AsujW-VYIjKAZV3AhuvwyMxNR1rLDrDqgRmz908LCmqifQiPVRuRrUJbrErRudVbqmt4C/s200/Bayeux+antique+shop.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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So, Saturday, after a leisurely breakfast, I headed off to town.<br />
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Before I got there, however, I came upon something that always enchants me, a weekly market. Coming upon one of these by surprise, as I did, just makes the day for me. There's an atmosphere that's special -- the sounds, the smells, the sights, catching little bits of conversations as people greet each other, ask questions, corral their kids, and such.<br />
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And, a market gives me a chance to practice french!<br />
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This market had every kind of thing for sale: Animals, clothes, books, CDs, vegetables and fruits, flowers, cheeses, and all kinds of meat, fish, and shellfish, as well as prepared foods for eating then or taking home.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5KA7NkreTW0uWJgeEGl9sukxU-UQDxsr1xwXA-O3j4Sp9xeufyoxcgbdpurBmopOXoQvLOKyBUkDMWG-UfH4L50Pi_uTdWTX2UCOeZ1bLdVoMmOoLASmWCJlYLYP6XGtlPWp/s1600/Market+chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5KA7NkreTW0uWJgeEGl9sukxU-UQDxsr1xwXA-O3j4Sp9xeufyoxcgbdpurBmopOXoQvLOKyBUkDMWG-UfH4L50Pi_uTdWTX2UCOeZ1bLdVoMmOoLASmWCJlYLYP6XGtlPWp/s200/Market+chickens.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chickens for sale</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I could have spent the whole day there. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0DkBlT4oLX4uiTmFEJ72NvINkJFWEpHvoO_t457F-KIb6MuqJWxfNmR4c_Ao01DMlz71LCbXa56ONB7_yClodkp3asMvFrXzQh7Bb7714xMcBGVgMAFXSmnjuy0iPF5KsDZM/s1600/radishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0DkBlT4oLX4uiTmFEJ72NvINkJFWEpHvoO_t457F-KIb6MuqJWxfNmR4c_Ao01DMlz71LCbXa56ONB7_yClodkp3asMvFrXzQh7Bb7714xMcBGVgMAFXSmnjuy0iPF5KsDZM/s200/radishes.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous veggies and fruits</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cf0QCTNVZ05onTxd1PdltcaFr2u9f5YO8__RuiFPJigXSE4QQE707cp2PaQMi_1CbDA6_CvArjcLXG8ubkLDNNEa8OEvn-3q5H2f3Mkq93i6iQAnekEm_gRR9b2FhZl-gJmE/s1600/cheese+market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cf0QCTNVZ05onTxd1PdltcaFr2u9f5YO8__RuiFPJigXSE4QQE707cp2PaQMi_1CbDA6_CvArjcLXG8ubkLDNNEa8OEvn-3q5H2f3Mkq93i6iQAnekEm_gRR9b2FhZl-gJmE/s200/cheese+market.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheese market</td></tr>
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When I texted Dennis photos of the rabbits, chickens and ducks, he suggested they would make great gifts. Perhaps...<br />
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And I did indeed find some nice gifts there, other than the beautiful and healthy little animals.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQk5uHApgPPJlTIkiwAOWiTFgCXW55bHwM9Lx3UrU8rJ_46MNNNsWHPRYAAGxpW8pa2aK6R52tRGctg1-Kt7yyNBA8DYiIEvqSFfZ-NgDn5XTJ0HuPYNmjsk00nK7UEhJnS9K/s1600/paella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQk5uHApgPPJlTIkiwAOWiTFgCXW55bHwM9Lx3UrU8rJ_46MNNNsWHPRYAAGxpW8pa2aK6R52tRGctg1-Kt7yyNBA8DYiIEvqSFfZ-NgDn5XTJ0HuPYNmjsk00nK7UEhJnS9K/s200/paella.jpg" width="193" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catalan Paella in the market</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA13xqmm_UwMqX_R5evXMLXDXflvjw1ay_1LTHb7YFa9gb_25X3d0qON9RAv9YizsOk_jky3oHHQZCiYSEf0XqXzkr4h1bOKwVKe-jzN_7MRCZ_Z5t25RyHGTNiWD0tnnnMUZ_/s1600/apple+dessert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA13xqmm_UwMqX_R5evXMLXDXflvjw1ay_1LTHb7YFa9gb_25X3d0qON9RAv9YizsOk_jky3oHHQZCiYSEf0XqXzkr4h1bOKwVKe-jzN_7MRCZ_Z5t25RyHGTNiWD0tnnnMUZ_/s200/apple+dessert.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous dessert</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Bayeux, as does all of Normandy, enjoys a great reputation for its regional dishes, among them, just about anything and everything made from apples.<br />
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Another specialty is dairy, so there are lots of dishes with cream sauces and cheese. Among others, the region is famous for its Camembert.<br />
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One of the students in our class and I had dinner together Saturday night and ordered several small plates to share, so we got to try five different regional cheeses, as well as a fabulous polenta dish with little slivers of brightly colored veggies tucked in everywhere.<br />
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Bayeux has a botanical garden, and it just happened to be right across the street from our hotel, so I spent a bit of my afternoon there. So peaceful and beautiful.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JKiu5SE-rI-viu9rdlYEVamHKBaZVuSxZDdTITTtC-XoTgfF0NFz1qZgENejjb17yw0FON_7BVcDariuKje7ivg6bvrndSgcJq7KdfLi1zUn_WowrXlghcdudlEI5ItY5LwM/s1600/Bayeux+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JKiu5SE-rI-viu9rdlYEVamHKBaZVuSxZDdTITTtC-XoTgfF0NFz1qZgENejjb17yw0FON_7BVcDariuKje7ivg6bvrndSgcJq7KdfLi1zUn_WowrXlghcdudlEI5ItY5LwM/s200/Bayeux+garden.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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And for my friends who are as transfixed by birds as I am, I awoke every morning well before it got light to a vibrant dawn chorus, owing to our hotel's being adjacent to the garden. I hadn't heard this much birdsong in weeks. As is always the case for this trip, I couldn't put a name to anything, but whoever they were, merci beaucoup! </div>
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Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-53856784333693058082016-05-05T11:25:00.001-05:002016-05-05T11:25:25.888-05:00Gardening, Paris-styleWhile last week, nothing topped a good hot chocolate, this week, nothing tops a Paris garden in springtime. Our weather turned truly spring-like this week, and we were able to shed the wool hats, sweaters and jackets (and for me, the wool base layers...). We visited lots of little gardens. They're everywhere, often tucked into recesses behind walls. I would turn a corner, and all of a sudden there's a little gate and I hear birdsong and the strong scent of flowers. I'm simply drawn inside these worlds of green, magenta, yellow, red and white as though I had no power to resist.<br />
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Austin has lots of little neighborhood parks too, but all pride about Austin aside, these little gems here in Paris simply put us to shame (excepting of course our Japanese Garden, which is a treasure in any season). I don't know who tends these gardens, but they are beyond magnificent. And they're everywhere!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sAE0FyeJ4IUoImm0f_y5wE7YUsWzZO43Lk0bNFHt2pXESVRhemjGCY4ZWhFQvFr4qu_bejHBf3IYI9b5vgiPuC92HSoHNBRcd_GhKIq_K1xtTmhFqT4F_Bll8RXVI6NNRK6y/s1600/Voltaire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sAE0FyeJ4IUoImm0f_y5wE7YUsWzZO43Lk0bNFHt2pXESVRhemjGCY4ZWhFQvFr4qu_bejHBf3IYI9b5vgiPuC92HSoHNBRcd_GhKIq_K1xtTmhFqT4F_Bll8RXVI6NNRK6y/s200/Voltaire.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jardin de Voltaire<br /></td></tr>
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Almost daily we stroll past Voltaire's little pocket garden, on our street. Not a park you can actually go into, it's just a bright spot along the walk to the area around Place Buci, one of our favorite destinations for drinks, dinner and shopping.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmqzGGWUDFpl9iMWG7jnOavSdV1cQ0sVJmTGWpy97dWm1FPBt3fUqFWfz0-A6jUpeddplqqqVwdEGOHbL2c8dMRCmzIqN6pGpeaomxzhjwMYZZEIMnia9WcCuG_FyGw418y5-/s1600/IMG_1161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmqzGGWUDFpl9iMWG7jnOavSdV1cQ0sVJmTGWpy97dWm1FPBt3fUqFWfz0-A6jUpeddplqqqVwdEGOHbL2c8dMRCmzIqN6pGpeaomxzhjwMYZZEIMnia9WcCuG_FyGw418y5-/s200/IMG_1161.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Promenade Plantée</td></tr>
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We strolled La Promenade Plantée last Sunday -- the first-in-the-world elevated park (the model for the High Line), repurposing a part of an abandoned rail line. About 2 1/2 miles long, it passes through two parks, Jardin Hector Malot and Jardin de Reuilly, while being a park itself. A triple-delight.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjg8dCmKK8F0NP62mVSZ6wkVeyk6NfEldJHKm16u8ZjpPRg79nGcCPgHb2GtbgNQNSaa3CY45MuNLwNntRbPwUnUx8CZIr_3mGDgnFNM8avN2A68K5_b49l8A0sEHPxnZkq7yK/s1600/FerrisWheel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjg8dCmKK8F0NP62mVSZ6wkVeyk6NfEldJHKm16u8ZjpPRg79nGcCPgHb2GtbgNQNSaa3CY45MuNLwNntRbPwUnUx8CZIr_3mGDgnFNM8avN2A68K5_b49l8A0sEHPxnZkq7yK/s200/FerrisWheel.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Ferris Wheel</td></tr>
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A day later, we rode the Ferris Wheel, for splendid views of all of Paris. It's at the back of the Tuileries, a rather formal garden close to where we are staying. It's beautifully planted with beds of tulips, redbuds in bloom, lilacs, and pansies, daffodils and other winter bloomers (winter, for us in Texas).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAI_U6YMZyKkogQnC9Uwpcuin4ho6V2Z_rL1Ld-6awZ7D2Od4fWHY6MvS5DAcBmplf1zLFt4x2U6ir_bU-KHbnr3HE9QE0-ehp6yysaE_j_otmHQV4tmdrS5rko2VmGjQzWudQ/s1600/Tuilleries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAI_U6YMZyKkogQnC9Uwpcuin4ho6V2Z_rL1Ld-6awZ7D2Od4fWHY6MvS5DAcBmplf1zLFt4x2U6ir_bU-KHbnr3HE9QE0-ehp6yysaE_j_otmHQV4tmdrS5rko2VmGjQzWudQ/s200/Tuilleries.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tulips in the Tuileries</td></tr>
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Dennis goes on long walks each day, in the mornings while I'm in class and discovers things that we go off together to see in the afternoons. He hit the jackpot today! He orchestrated a "small garden tour" day just for me, a beautiful walk that took us to 3 of these small gardens and the Luxembourg Gardens, one of the most well-known in Paris. Two of the gardens flanked <a href="https://www.google.fr/search?q=bon+marche+paris&espv=2&biw=1170&bih=646&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjZms2ulsPMAhUnIMAKHSmNCk4Q_AUICCgD" target="_blank">Le Bon Marché</a> and <a href="https://www.google.fr/search?q=grande+epicerie&espv=2&biw=1170&bih=646&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj4n9bblcPMAhUqCcAKHUPpCH4Q_AUIBygC&dpr=1" target="_blank">La Grande Epicerie</a>, rather over-the-top stores in Saint Germaine des Prés. So, we made the tour of those grand edifices as well. But back to the gardens -<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHtHXmH0_Jz9LQO7zB1Wpz8RpeSX8brlGEICl_ggj6UPVfjZrJ3rgGNTcZnYLOH705dpO9Q2KHRul3VTouRE72w1pfGNAkwA7DtZwJmyGab3F1Qb6HLh0h1PK5qKNmJXtHR9C/s1600/Boucicaut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHtHXmH0_Jz9LQO7zB1Wpz8RpeSX8brlGEICl_ggj6UPVfjZrJ3rgGNTcZnYLOH705dpO9Q2KHRul3VTouRE72w1pfGNAkwA7DtZwJmyGab3F1Qb6HLh0h1PK5qKNmJXtHR9C/s200/Boucicaut.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Square Boucicaut</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbhLa0w0G0eww80jyziNMEgiti8AFunwzrW90MFwOiIMdL2VvEkK1LyEbrpwFgpXGv_CZXKF5w4ukjGWHmPXiHNM9YqvTolzzt0yWcgcdy5SgS6G-ZHOYFsr2mVI5dT0kOOB7/s1600/LilacsVillemin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbhLa0w0G0eww80jyziNMEgiti8AFunwzrW90MFwOiIMdL2VvEkK1LyEbrpwFgpXGv_CZXKF5w4ukjGWHmPXiHNM9YqvTolzzt0yWcgcdy5SgS6G-ZHOYFsr2mVI5dT0kOOB7/s200/LilacsVillemin.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lilacs</td></tr>
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The first was Square Boucicaut. Flowers everywhere; birds singing; kids playing; Parisians lounging, relaxed, in the chairs and on the benches. The second, just a block or two away, was Jardin Catherine Laboure. Slightly larger, a little more elaborate (espaliered apple trees waist-high, in full bloom - can you believe it?), totally amazing.<br />
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Next was the Luxembourgh Gardens and I simply can't say enough about this grand example, certainly nothing that hasn't already been said.<br />
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Pictures describe Luxembourgh better than words anyway, so, <a href="https://www.google.fr/search?q=luxembourg+gardens&espv=2&biw=1170&bih=646&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwid963EnMPMAhWIC8AKHUJuAR4Q_AUIBigB" target="_blank">have a look for yourself</a>!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3-yJJG2HOM3wXOVd2qpRcb5lRB4F_3-eG_MP0cjz06DaVsXmeL6OiFC4vtrwTBvruLkajrkn9hP8fU2sKfztWGj9HATHvP3Zrz5BBctB602WSTVh84yXcJy1b8y9UhKyMc7N/s1600/peonies+georgia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3-yJJG2HOM3wXOVd2qpRcb5lRB4F_3-eG_MP0cjz06DaVsXmeL6OiFC4vtrwTBvruLkajrkn9hP8fU2sKfztWGj9HATHvP3Zrz5BBctB602WSTVh84yXcJy1b8y9UhKyMc7N/s200/peonies+georgia.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peonies<br /></td></tr>
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Our last garden today required a bus ride across the Seine all the way to the East Train Station. Jardin Villemin was just incredible. I was stunned upon entering to see peonies in full bloom, the size of a dinner plates. We don't have those in Texas, no we don't.<br />
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All day I've been hearing these lovely little birds singing their hearts out, but just never get a look at one. They must be tiny or in the very tip tops of the trees, or both. It's a nice reminder that naming a thing can often shut down curiosity about it. It's good to simply listen and enjoy, see and enjoy, feel alive and enjoy!<br />
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I hope your spring gardens are all blooming beautifully too.<br />
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Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-83694119067116574772016-04-30T09:00:00.003-05:002016-04-30T09:04:00.737-05:00The Paris dailyAh, how quickly we've settled into routine...<br />
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There's a gentle rhythm to days when you have a few things that you have to do but plenty of time in which to do them. That means there's time for all those other little things, like writing in a journal, planning out a day-trip for later in the week, and gazing out the window at the roof across the courtyard and the gray sky above it, with the clouds that slowly move across the whole scene.<br />
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That's what's happened in our second week here; we've got our little routines, but that doesn't mean we've sunk into ruts! Hardly. I made a day-trip to Fontainbleau this week. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii45fl91WahEBxezr_v_k2td4VJhN9Qr6qI-hnzvdnAiKA6gI1vnrSZKxiUKOZVYNQROenO3IgOrY8gVa-E-JAaI5rCOOYDvh4XkLpt9np1fCv1kOgY8DFzLCEh34LlESZWlDg/s1600/Fontainbleau+Library+CC*BY%2BMark%2BSchlemmer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii45fl91WahEBxezr_v_k2td4VJhN9Qr6qI-hnzvdnAiKA6gI1vnrSZKxiUKOZVYNQROenO3IgOrY8gVa-E-JAaI5rCOOYDvh4XkLpt9np1fCv1kOgY8DFzLCEh34LlESZWlDg/s320/Fontainbleau+Library+CC*BY%2BMark%2BSchlemmer.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Library, CC*BY Mark Schlemmer</td></tr>
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I am not sure I've ever seen a man-made thing so over-the-top, though I no doubt will find Versaille even more so than Fontainbleau, from what I've heard. But then there's the Grand Canyon, the desert at sunrise and Big Sur. I get chills just thinking about places like that. Not so much with castles.<br />
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But chocolat chaud, absolutely incredible. I will swoon over a good hot chocolate any time. I had one this week. It was served with an empty cup and two little pitchers. The smaller pitcher was filled with smooth-as-silk melted hot chocolate; the second with steamed milk. Being a novice, not knowing just how to proceed, I just poured *all* the chocolate into my cup and then topped it off with a little hot milk. I could have died right there after the first sip and been completely content. So this is now the chocolate trip, like our earlier trip was the gelato trip. We had for that trip a daily budget for gelato of about $15, and that was a decade ago. This time chocolat chaud, oh, and croissants.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFLfiKv4R4KEf-A0Ldnek7hqV4zylJSWJ77a3JP41tpjm3ukwdz9EzkeTIFIoFBKNTTx6Yv9z5EA9JwEN2MntO9esbICUGgKtmUKnq_p9WuDQyIiyISzAAlc4iBytP7aIM8JY/s1600/Chocolat+Chaud+Paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNFLfiKv4R4KEf-A0Ldnek7hqV4zylJSWJ77a3JP41tpjm3ukwdz9EzkeTIFIoFBKNTTx6Yv9z5EA9JwEN2MntO9esbICUGgKtmUKnq_p9WuDQyIiyISzAAlc4iBytP7aIM8JY/s200/Chocolat+Chaud+Paris.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dartblog.com/data/2013/03/010689.php" target="_blank">Chocolat chaud, à la Carette</a></td></tr>
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French is coming along well. There are times I hear and understand whole conversations, short ones to be sure, but still. Every word! Yea! Other times I understand nothing, but those are usually other people's conversations where I lack context. And most people talk so fast. I think I'm disadvantaged by being from Texas. I just talk slower and I hear slower too, I guess. I love the classes though and can't imagine missing even a single day. We're reading these lovely little stories about "minuscule pleasures." Exactly my kind of thing. One need only notice to find life an incredible thing. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsxgvpcans1t54AT8D285Rzxh9LzH2qLhFHiorS5HRFeR9-ZfguDBbIJ6ztXeIL3aUYaD3lpYxe6uO0ZXEIVCrJizMpmIQstVaTRhOizPkFOZrb5fam72bzUGOke4B5tsGBM6/s1600/LaPremiereGorgeedeBiere.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsxgvpcans1t54AT8D285Rzxh9LzH2qLhFHiorS5HRFeR9-ZfguDBbIJ6ztXeIL3aUYaD3lpYxe6uO0ZXEIVCrJizMpmIQstVaTRhOizPkFOZrb5fam72bzUGOke4B5tsGBM6/s200/LaPremiereGorgeedeBiere.jpg" width="122" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Premiére Gorgée</td></tr>
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The book is called La Premiére Gorgée de Biére, by Philippe Delerm. The first sip of beer, out of the bottle. Dennis has always said it was the best. My favorite story so far, "Helping to shell peas." Imagine that.<br />
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The morning classes, as much as I love them, make my trips to the bakery a very early morning ritual because I have to fit them in along with quite a few other things before I go to class. So, leisurely mornings are reserved to the weekends. Sounds so familiar, like a time far away and long ago.<br />
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So, 'en avant la troisiéme semaine!'<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgut_eoDZe5iuvv6x02VpDBzAkchWkRYpjsYIee2aG3oO37SqXAynpTCSz2EEOsadotYWFO0jy5M2hVvKhsgUwVojVdRRvTf6swm37zaDgPux4lbbQTTIW4zxPIkPvmx93SKvpa/s1600/Eric+Kayser+bakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgut_eoDZe5iuvv6x02VpDBzAkchWkRYpjsYIee2aG3oO37SqXAynpTCSz2EEOsadotYWFO0jy5M2hVvKhsgUwVojVdRRvTf6swm37zaDgPux4lbbQTTIW4zxPIkPvmx93SKvpa/s400/Eric+Kayser+bakery.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric Kaiser Bakery</td></tr>
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<br />Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-69377711253798702392016-04-24T08:55:00.000-05:002016-04-24T10:42:59.844-05:00Ten days in Paris<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 19.5px;">
<span style="line-height: 1.5;">What an adventure! I’ve barely been able to catch my breath this first 10 days because Road Scholar whisked me into gear only hours after we arrived in Paris. The first 3 days were a seemingly unending series of dinners, breakfasts and lunches, with meetings in between, or trips around the neighborhood where most of the students in the French course I’m taking are staying, or to the Sunday morning market. For that one, we had a French restaurant chef as our guide to picking the best fruits, vegetables, cheeses, olive oils and fish!</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">That’s all very good information for me, as I love to cook, and our little Paris garret has a nicely equipped kitchen. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkS51GSQeyVEbwmPMhhEKQPSliFZcejMdiTXSf3pxIUHm5AHUSv3NCoeby2iBgthMkUKQTnL06r1nVcowt0boNVZQpi1E3fNfrz5X2_Wl7u32znGJYu4gUAjj0BY7Sjr6-F8K1/s1600/IMG_1135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkS51GSQeyVEbwmPMhhEKQPSliFZcejMdiTXSf3pxIUHm5AHUSv3NCoeby2iBgthMkUKQTnL06r1nVcowt0boNVZQpi1E3fNfrz5X2_Wl7u32znGJYu4gUAjj0BY7Sjr6-F8K1/s200/IMG_1135.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainy day courtyard</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6Fcox_TnDgJ_K5sWvQJfpQPeRMgcVE5IurQYKqg73ZE0d65HDKXARO7uiG858gJs3JggnM4eso89hLS14yquoRr3DO3Ym_fiHhiTVrIb4dPyLJfGmCAIlJyItWvf4X0Xzufc/s1600/IMG_0298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6Fcox_TnDgJ_K5sWvQJfpQPeRMgcVE5IurQYKqg73ZE0d65HDKXARO7uiG858gJs3JggnM4eso89hLS14yquoRr3DO3Ym_fiHhiTVrIb4dPyLJfGmCAIlJyItWvf4X0Xzufc/s200/IMG_0298.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La cuisine!</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The Road Scholar program offered a “commuter” option, which let us choose our own place to live. I wanted somewhere centrally located, and with a real kitchen and a few other features that the Adagio (the apartment that students stay in who don’t choose their own accommodations) didn’t offer. So I found this wonderful apartment through AirBnB, right on the Seine, across from the L’œuvre, in a 300-year-old five-story building. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le salon</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">We love it!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is an elevator...</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'helvetica neue', helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 1.5;">Take today: Paris is more like winter than spring for us this Sunday. It’s cold, rainy, and we’re inside, warm as toast, listening to Vivaldi and having our dejeuner of ‘pain avec du beurre et de la confiture, et café, bien sûr.’ </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le dejeuner</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">But tonight I’ll get to cook a homemade pasta sauce and serve it over spaghetti, with a salad of fresh greens and other goodies from our local market, Marché Saint Germaine des Prés.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">No way this will compare with the dinner we had last night, Saturday, at La Buca, down near Place Buci – a 3 course affair where we could easily have called it a night after the first course! And that fabulous dinner had followed an equally impressive beginning at Prescription, our “neighborhood” bar, where we had wonderful cocktails and a copita of Del Maguey’s Tobala. We literally fell into bed after our walk home.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">So, that is our first free weekend. During the week we were much more like ‘des tourists.’ I walk to my class each morning, after a quick trip to our local boulangerie for the day’s bread, and a breakfast with Dennis of bread (sourdough, croissants, pain au chocolat) with butter, jam, and fruit, with yogurt and orange juice and coffee. Actually, that’s an enormous breakfast by French standards, but it’s what we love. All fresh, and delicious.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nôtre Dame</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">My classes are incredible. I can’t recommend the <a href="https://www.roadscholar.org/find-an-adventure/21756/living-and-learning-in-paris-independent-stay-and-language-study" target="_blank">Road Scholar independent live and study in Paris program</a> more highly. Class meets 3 hours each morning, Monday through Thursday, and then all day on Friday. Fridays are devoted to learning about French culture, art and history. Last Friday we had a lecture about the middle ages, up to the time of the revolution (1789). We visited the Conciergerie, Saint Chappelle and Nôtre Dame. The lecturer is really wonderful. He’ll be joining us next Friday for the continuation of this theme, with our day trip to Fontainbleu.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">The rest of the time we are in Paris, outside the class times, we are totally on our own, free to do whatever we want, when we want. Like being retired! La vie est belle!</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">Dennis isn’t taking the classes, so he’s off exploring in the mornings, and in the afternoons after I get home, he and I take long walks, usually with a destination in mind, or errands to run. We ride the busses and take the subway as needed (weekly and monthly passes), but mostly we walk. One does not come to Paris to lose weight, but it would be nice not to gain too much… This week we explored little pockets of "old neighborhoods" hidden within larger quarters of the Paris districts. Such hidden gems were the subject of our first week's study in our French classes, as taught by our talented Madam Bocquet, or, as she prefers, Odile. The first neighborhood was La cité floral. Indeed.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8qq0bk8-ZT8Ffypqe5enytauzvD3FQGIvfwj0XQMxX6qGr5D7KERC-tZs7EqqC-Gx8aQifeNGANNQQSD57L-pmARRq0Er7Xqlqnsm_1qULHMpQwzFGqX8Wcwh8pNirr_YW99/s1600/IMG_0293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8qq0bk8-ZT8Ffypqe5enytauzvD3FQGIvfwj0XQMxX6qGr5D7KERC-tZs7EqqC-Gx8aQifeNGANNQQSD57L-pmARRq0Er7Xqlqnsm_1qULHMpQwzFGqX8Wcwh8pNirr_YW99/s200/IMG_0293.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clematis</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">In the evenings we prepare our little repas, do emails, spend a little time on FB, and then watch some little BBC or PBS drama, or science program, or an Australian murder mystery like the Miss Fisher series, all on YouTube of course, and off to bed!</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.5;">I am learning French, and really having so much fun doing so. I’ve studied off and on for more than 10 years, but I’ve learned the most when I was here, especially the two weeks I spent with my friend Zarah, who lives in Lyon. We spoke nothing but French the whole time. That’s what it takes, really, being here. I don’t have quite the “only French” situation now, because when Dennis and I are together, we don’t speak French, but, on the other hand, I’ve never had classes quite like these, geared precisely to where I am and what I need to progress. They are very practical, not so much about grammar and all (which it’s assumed, for those who are intermediate to advanced, we all have had plenty of), but more about vocabulary and how to say things like they are actually said, rather than how we as speakers of English might think they would be said. The subjects about which we speak are all relevant and interesting (like learning all about the character and differences among the neighborhoods in Paris, first week). And the classes are entirely in French, though the beginners’ courses are not. The course is offered through the <a href="http://www.iesa.fr/groupe-iesa/historique" target="_blank">IESA, Institut Supérieur des Arts, Paris</a>. Their instructors are fabulous.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flower market</td></tr>
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<o:p>So, </o:p><span style="line-height: 1.5;">highlights of these first 10 days for me include visiting the flower market on Île de la Cité, understanding more and more of what I hear around me, as well as understanding my teachers (we have two) when they speak quickly as well as slowly, getting braver about speaking with people I meet in social situations, and vendors, cashiers, waiters, etc., being able to walk several hours without getting hot and tired (being from Texas), visiting the markets, whose sights, smells, and sounds I simply love, and the view out the “front door” of the building, onto Quai Voltaire, each time we take off on an excursion. Oh, and the food, and the drinks, and the course I’m taking, and our apartment, and having Dennis here, and the fact that we’ve got another 35 days!!!</span></div>
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But I do miss my kitty. Yes, I do.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwv-WuFu339TS3c1asVmZfReaMqoe6bGlU-C_2AOkeiccbidjOF3OcsshYdXuNcMxtVBy5MGzUv9E7N3d3-PkS5xT1nCF8RrltIG1ns-_R852GFeKQvz32dieiDwUasGKvtlh/s1600/IMG_0983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwv-WuFu339TS3c1asVmZfReaMqoe6bGlU-C_2AOkeiccbidjOF3OcsshYdXuNcMxtVBy5MGzUv9E7N3d3-PkS5xT1nCF8RrltIG1ns-_R852GFeKQvz32dieiDwUasGKvtlh/s200/IMG_0983.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty girl - Minou</td></tr>
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Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-29630645182033397512015-07-29T12:24:00.001-05:002015-07-29T12:25:20.086-05:00What does it mean to work for a living?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working at home</td></tr>
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I had been at it for almost 50 years, with a few notable breaks -- one for college, one for a year in South America, two for the boat trip, another 3 for Law School. Well, one can hardly call Law School a break from anything, but it was pretty much a break from working for a living.<br />
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Now I am not working for a living. I have worked. I was working. I no longer work.<br />
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What does that mean though?<br />
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I still do a lot of work. I read and meditate every day. I take care of my cat and my husband. I make 3 meals a day, most days, and tidy up things constantly. I plan trips, get together with friends, do the shopping, read books, write in my journal, keep in touch with friends who are far away. I take walks in the morning, work in the garden, bake cookies, biscuits, make granola, tortillas, bake bread, make yogurt. I'm revising a course I've taught in the past on contemplative nature observation, to teach it again this fall. I'm in three book clubs and enjoy meeting with my book club friends even when I don't read the books. I go dancing at the Broken Spoke when the weather's cool. I catch a movie from time to time. I practice Spanish and French; I signed up for a 6 week intensive French course in Paris next spring. I take photos of stuff that catches my eye. I'm beginning a weaving project for the fall.<br />
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Nobody asks me to do these things. And I don't do them because they are necessary, for the most part. I do them because I want to, I like to and I enjoy the process and the end result. And I do them when I want to, within reason.<br />
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I wasn't what I did. I'm not what I do now. This is just living life, with time to notice, without a lot of things crammed in and a sense that whatever you do, it's never quite enough.<br />
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It is enough.Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-2114196504533864572015-07-05T15:21:00.000-05:002015-07-05T15:21:52.838-05:00To act without attachment to the fruits of your actionsAccording to Jack Kornfield, Ajahn Chah was living proof of the secret of life, described in the Bhagavad Gita -- the secret I honor with the title of this post. It is indeed a secret from most of us, most of the time. Even if we know that everything is uncertain, even if we once see beyond the illusion that we can control things, we forget all about that in the rush of day-to-day. But then something suddenly reminds us, sometimes tragically.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeI2y9MpQ5-996jSDmQWEeTbtrpq7wF76GWEC5AV4XC4Nw6inpdbX7i3Kqy53IU5ZTv8z8j7dQhVVut0Cob7UQcIriAIAfAtVvTia3ricb64QWBzQepl2Wv9n0V6FcGbRjm8I5/s1600/Garden10806+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="kitty girl" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeI2y9MpQ5-996jSDmQWEeTbtrpq7wF76GWEC5AV4XC4Nw6inpdbX7i3Kqy53IU5ZTv8z8j7dQhVVut0Cob7UQcIriAIAfAtVvTia3ricb64QWBzQepl2Wv9n0V6FcGbRjm8I5/s320/Garden10806+036.jpg" title="" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty Girl</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Kitty Girl disappeared on a sunny afternoon earlier this month, or rather, I noticed that she was not in any of her usual places on that sunny afternoon. Within a few minutes I added up a number of things I'd noticed that afternoon, and after I called her continuously for about half-an-hour, I concluded that she wasn't coming back. This idea plunged me into a state of sadness, quite intense, a state of loss, loneliness, and despair. I missed her terribly, even after just a few minutes of knowing that she was gone.<br />
<br />
The evening went by with a hundred mistaken sightings. I kept seeing her out of the corner of my eye, where I would expect to see her. But it was never her. I went to bed early, hoping to wake up to her return. But no.<br />
<br />
The next morning there was still no sign of her. I approached morning meditation as an opportunity to explore the feelings of sadness, loneliness, and loss. I sank into them, willing to see and feel what might be at the center. It was no surprise though. After a short period of stillness and peace, my heart filled with compassion for my own suffering, and the suffering of everyone of us, at the hands of the illusions -- that things have permanence, that there is solid ground we can stand on, that we are separate beings, separated from the things that love us and that we love. <br />
<br />
Form and emptiness. Emptiness and form. Kitty Girl and I are not separate. Except in the relative world. And relative world, the here and now, is the only place where it is possible to access ultimate mind, where there is no separation.<br />
<br />
I practiced gratitude meditation, grateful for the lessons, the joy and happiness that having and loving a pet provide; and compassion meditation, accepting myself as I am with this suffering, knowing that I am strong enough to hold it in my heart, and accepting my life as it is, with what comes to me and what departs.<br />
<br />
I doubt I would have seen any of this in the experience of losing my kitty without the guidance of the teachers I've been privileged to learn from over the last 2 1/2 years of my studies with Naropa's contemplative education program. The teachers, the teachings and the sangha they created for me and my classmates has given me such gifts of understanding as I could never have imagined. I am so grateful.<br />
<br />
That next morning I remembered Ajahn Chah's teaching of the broken tea cup, as Kornfield recounts in The Wise Heart: "To me this cup is already broken. Because I know its fate, I can enjoy it fully here and now. And when it's gone, it's gone." Nothing is certain except this moment. (Ah, I just thought I saw her again, in peripheral vision, on the deck.) But instead of leaving us in despair, this fact can bring us great capacity to appreciate what we have, enjoy it fully. Fully. And then let it go when it's gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-36701210177964903742015-07-05T14:58:00.000-05:002015-07-05T14:58:06.661-05:00Naropa Master's Project 2013: Concluding observations<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoWI1VaYPLHoAyNnDfNHndZBQMOdsyMz4tmGOgQpBaoYTm5zudlsrZvXJ_mC57j0bIsiMQdXHNXY6TtEdq8HOe3oDkPdtP4cJYpNXxDXQcqlMBmQwQiIgmkiSNq8wFO0Q3tgS/s1600/Pelicans+on+watch+Larry+Johnson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoWI1VaYPLHoAyNnDfNHndZBQMOdsyMz4tmGOgQpBaoYTm5zudlsrZvXJ_mC57j0bIsiMQdXHNXY6TtEdq8HOe3oDkPdtP4cJYpNXxDXQcqlMBmQwQiIgmkiSNq8wFO0Q3tgS/s400/Pelicans+on+watch+Larry+Johnson.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brown Pelicans CC*BY Larry Johnson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>March 17, 2013</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>My purpose is to tell a story about how we come to know
ourselves in sharing that which we are with others. I don't think I'm going to
convince anyone of anything if they need objective measures to be convinced….<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>My journals are filled with insights, connections, memories,
and meaning-making. And it all seems to have roots in experiences that I had in
connection with my students. In connection. That's where everything happened.
In the space between and around and inside us, the mandala, the energetic space
(Personal journal entry, March 17, 2013).</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had a lot of ideas about what I would do with the opportunity a Master's Project presents. I thought to study my participants’ experience. I thought to
improve my teaching. I did neither. I found that every little thing about teaching Birding with Buddha collapsed into one big thing: What I wanted to know couldn't be measured, and is even difficult to discuss. But I know it now, and before I
did not. The experience of conceiving, creating, modifying, and teaching the
course was a vignette, a little dip into the flow of life within which I was
able to experience and express harmoniously qualities in myself that I often
think of as conflicting. Things came together so nicely. <i>What</i> a surprise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Their experience</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>March 4, 2013<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i>I remember during our first summer after an extraordinary
experience with our first ‘presence of being circle,’ I went on a ‘presence
walk’ around Boulder. Simply, it was an effort to be completely present with
everyone and everything that I encountered on a walk down Pearl Street. I was,
and it was incredible.<br /> </i><i><br /></i><i> About the same time, I read something that Merton had
written. I think it was a preface to an article we had to read, or something
like that. Del Prete refers to the same passage like this:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"... in our ordinary, everyday selves,
as he says in one celebrated passage, we ‘are all walking around shining like
the sun’ (Merton, 1965c, p. 157)” (Miller & Nakagawa, 2005, p. 168). The
full quote so closely described what I had experienced, and his experience was
so similar to mine that it acted as a powerful confirmation for me that simply being
present with experience was enough to completely change everything. He had this
"epiphany" as he called it, after 17 years of being a Trapist Monk.
Now, if that does not give you some confidence that it's ok if it takes a long
time to get it...</i><o:p><i> </i></o:p><i> Here is the full quote from Conjectures of a Guilty
Bystander:</i><i> </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in
which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the
human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if
only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way
of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun"
(Merton, 1968, p. 157).</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>(Personal journal entry, March 4, 2013).</i> </blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never could quite decide how to describe my study
objectives. I kept changing them. Surprise! I didn’t want to study what I
thought I wanted to study. I never could quite decide what to measure. Surprise
again! I didn’t want to measure what I thought I wanted to measure. The trouble
was that I didn’t really want to measure anything. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took me a while to see that the way I planned to measure
would negate the very thing I hoped to experience: not two. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Whereas a Western analytical mode — the modes of
Aristotelian or scholastic philosophy, for instance — presumes a distance or
capacity to stand apart from what is being considered, to intuit being means to
apprehend with one's whole self in a direct, experiential, concrete way
(Merton, 1968d, pp. 26-27)” (Miller & Nakagawa, 2005, p. 172). As I came to
realize the very day the classes began, if I stood apart from my students and
measured their experience I could not have the experience that for me had
become the point of the study: not to stand apart. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Merton is concerned with developing a personal openness to
a qualitative perception of reality, not simply knowing about and explaining in
conceptual terms what someone else has experienced” (Miller & Nakagawa,
2005, p. 172). Me too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The experience in community with my study participants in
communion with nature in the garden during those four classes showed me the
power of the practice of contemplative observation, taught contemplatively. The
participants’ journals do not show this; rather I can confidently conclude that
the practice is powerful because I have learned how to be open to a direct,
qualitative perception of reality. I experienced it. So I <i>know</i> it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of the things I might have supported with evidence from
the participants’ journals I came to realize were not important. I can’t
imagine why I thought they were. They understood the instructions; they fully
engaged in each class’s activities; they shared their personal experiences;
they were enthusiastic; the experiences affected them. I can read and reread
their words. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They had experiences. I see that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt, however, that what mattered in the classes, what
made them special, what made the difference for them, were the connections
among us and with nature that the practices nurtured, enabling all of us to
listen to and learn from our inner teachers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the last day, we talked about the course. The
participants confirmed with words what our experience together had already
conveyed: They liked it. One person said that during the third class she got
it, that this was another way to meditate. Another offered that the book was
awesome, and another added that the joy I experienced contemplating nature as
well as in teaching really came across <i>in the book</i>. He said, with a grin, that
it was infectious. Several mentioned that they noticed birds more now, and that
walks took longer because they stopped to listen to and watch birds. One person
mentioned that the most important thing for her was that the course was
experiential with all four classes completely devoted to experience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of this exceeded my wildest expectations for the
students’ experiences. The participants received, appreciated, and enjoyed what
I wanted to share with them. Yes, they got it. This was what I had hoped the
book by itself might do, but realized midway through my planning for the
project that it couldn’t. Their experiences confirmed for me that when I could
not only share what I had written about contemplative observation (where I do
stand apart), but also share contemplative observation <i>personally, in a way
that embodied it </i> – remaining mindful
moment-to-moment as contemplative teacher, letting them have their own
experiences, unconcerned about results – these together created the ground for
a meaningful experience for all of us. I was sharing more than the practice. I
was sharing my whole self: <i>what</i> I knew, my understanding of the teaching, and
my creativity in bringing together the environmental elements that supported
our practice, my perspective and clarity, along with my full presence – not to
stand apart once our classes began.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">My experience</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>March 6, 2013<br />I felt that [the second] class went well. … I enjoyed the
class a lot and feel that I am on the right track with my personal practice –
contemplative teaching. This is from my journal:<br /><o:p> </o:p>It's not so much about making Birding with Buddha better or
conveying the practice really. It's about practicing what I've been learning,
to embody presence, compassion, loving-kindness, sympathetic joy, equanimity,
generosity, patience, discipline, joyful effort, meditation and prajna -- the
brahmaviharas and the paramitas. As Aurobindo says, you can't teach anything --
just be present. As Merton says, we are all walking around shining like the
sun. As Buber says, the relationship is what teaches. As the Quakers say, show
others the light of their own wisdom. Yes, we are all walking around shining
like the sun. See that, enjoy that, celebrate that, in word, in expression, in
emotion, in presence, in restraint from judgment.<br /><o:p> </o:p>(Threaded discussion forum, Master’s Project 2, March 6,
2013).</i> </blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And to think that, for quite a while after I began to intuit
what it was about the way our Naropa instructors taught us that made it so
different, I despaired of ever being able to embody certain of those qualities
myself. I just didn’t think I could discipline my judgmental tendencies, which
I knew was an essential element of the practice. In fact, I was completely
mystified about how anyone could do this in a situation where your job was to
teach. I could see that it could be done. I could do it on a walk through the
neighborhood, though that was unintentional. My instructors did it all the
time! But <i>that I could do it while teaching</i>? No. I didn’t really think I could.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I didn’t even think I <i>should</i>.</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>March 19, 2013</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i></i><i>I have not been very honest with myself about this up to
this point. I am crushing myself with the judgment that I have nothing really
to offer anyone, that I know nothing worthwhile and that I shouldn't be
teaching on these subjects. I feel it like a weight on my shoulders, a very
heavy weight (Personal journal entry, March 19, 2013).</i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It takes a lot of courage to teach something that you don’t
know a lot about. Ironically, the only way for me to learn this particular
subject was to actually jump in and do it. <i>It</i> was teaching itself,
contemplative teaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This study and
the insights I experienced as the classes began made it possible for me to let
go of my deeply ingrained ideas about what a teacher did, and my expectations
and ideas about what the study was really about.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so this one particular aspect of contemplative teaching
became the point of the study for me personally. But it was possible for me to
embrace the collapse of everything I thought I would do to this one
single-minded focus on restraint from judgment at least in part because I had
already worked more than three years to create and improve the written
materials for Birding with Buddha. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Translating those to the book form allowed
me to share all of that outside the class time, so that I could turn the classes
themselves fully to experience – for the students and for me. And I could relax
with seeing ‘that we are all Buddhas, that we are all perfect ultimately’ (see
<i>Supra</i>, p. 14). The mere act of connecting in this way – being fully present,
seeing clearly where we were and where we were going, relating from my center
of basic goodness to each student’s basic goodness, finding the spacious center
in feelings that might come up in the course of our interactions, allowing the
separation between observer and observed to dissolve – connecting in that way
suspends the judging mind that I had up until this point believed teaching
<i>required</i>: judging students’ progress and feeling that I should offer corrective
advice, suggestions or comments. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I experienced that I could transform my critical,
opinionated, and authoritarian aspects into clarity, sharp insights, and a
calming sense of perspective (Rockwell, 2012, pp. 57–58). Whereas the former
energies tend always to bolster the sense I have that I am separate from those I
interact with, the latter quite harmoniously complement the qualities I was
learning to embody in being with my students, qualities that blend us together
and into the space around us: deep listening, speaking from the heart, trusting
my intuition and connecting fully in the present moment. There were no tensions
or conflicts among these energies, or any of the others that creating and
carrying out the course engaged. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Much of what happened energetically took place during the
conversations we had after each observation, but the discussion during the last
class about the course in general led to a really special insight.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>March 20, 2013</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I sensed something, I felt something, and I was paying
attention to that. It touched me. I made sense of it and put words on it
later...<br /> <o:p> </o:p>I saw a barrage of images of my early teachers, the ones
whom I remember vividly, and it touched me deeply to recognize that they were
all people who loved me, my great grandparents, my grandparents, my mother. I
recognized again, remembered again, that teaching is associated with love for
me as a student, and as I recognized my inner teacher, I associated teaching
others with expressing love for them.<br /><o:p> </o:p>I felt that love yesterday when I was talking with my
students about teaching the BwB class. I was touched that they enjoyed it and
thought I should offer it again.<br /><o:p> </o:p>… teaching is love. The connection between teacher and
student is love. (Personal journal entry, March 20, 2013).</i> </blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The qualities I learned from my Naropa teachers <i>are becoming
part of me</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I observed earlier that Birding with Buddha was not just
about birding (see Supra, p. 22). Well, contemplative teaching is not just
about teaching either. I tend to “drop into teacher mode” an awful lot, so it
seems that everything I have learned here applies <i>all the time</i> – to the
day-to-day, to all the moments. I saw that clearly the magical night when
Aurobindo took me dancing at the Broken Spoke. Contemplative practice is about
every moment, not just teaching moments. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And what about contemplative observation? If contemplative
teaching is not just about teaching, is contemplative observation not just
about observation? Are these qualities simply a way to be, like maybe, I <i>am</i>?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>I am present</li>
<li>I see
through relative world imperfections to ultimate mind (my own and others')</li>
<li>I am aware
of and rely on space and spaciousness to renew and refresh my connection to the
present moment</li>
<li>I slow down</li>
<li>I integrate
intellectual inquiry with experiences that deepen non-conceptual understanding,
so I can develop wisdom, and heart knowing, <i>prajna</i></li>
</ul>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah. Yes. That is it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Next step<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the spot—or as a daily practice—we can reaffirm our
intention to keep the door open to all sentient beings for the rest of our life.
That’s the training of the spiritual warrior, the training of cultivating
courage and empathy, the training of cultivating love (Chodron, 2012, Chapter
6, Beyond our comfort zone).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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There is this: Commit to stay with the practice for the rest
of my life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-27128563750353689762013-07-31T12:13:00.000-05:002013-09-25T12:58:53.679-05:00Coming to know<h3>
Teaching Birding with Buddha</h3>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8na7yNduC1JsCzD6A5wjXYQrXapRkz5sL-vQ1Qp9_1dEyPv-XrPbmHnpjEWBuMb9BnCeo-cdKe7seiF__RhxZCyPULaI1WDE4UkkeFfqo-b2i43-50OwZz11U2GrcPN-vuRe/s1600/Reddish+egret+Katy+&+sam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8na7yNduC1JsCzD6A5wjXYQrXapRkz5sL-vQ1Qp9_1dEyPv-XrPbmHnpjEWBuMb9BnCeo-cdKe7seiF__RhxZCyPULaI1WDE4UkkeFfqo-b2i43-50OwZz11U2GrcPN-vuRe/s320/Reddish+egret+Katy+&+sam.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reddish Egret CC*BY Katy & Sam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A Master's Project at Naropa can be just about anything. I taught Birding with Buddha as my project. It was pretty straightforward by the time I started teaching it. I had translated class materials I earlier developed the first time I taught the course in 2011 to an e-book, which would be the text for the new course. I offered it through the Austin Zen Center, and eight people signed up. I asked them to read a chapter or two from the book each week before class met so that we could spend our class time practicing contemplative observation, writing about our observations, and sharing our experiences. The participants left copies with me of the journal entries they created during the reflective periods of our class time. That was the basic plan.<br />
<br />
What I wanted to study, however, went beyond what one might learn about students' experiences during four 90-minute classes. I was investigating “the whole ineffable thing,” aspects of experience that are untouched by our labels, our conventional ways of relating our experiences to others. I wondered how contemplative practices facilitate access to that realm of experience. So I undertook a number of other practices that prepared me for the experience, both as a student of what I would learn, and a teacher of the participants in the study. These practices are what Naropa calls "methods," but they have little in common with the methods I learned about at the University of Texas, for example, when I was preparing to do research in information studies. These methods are much more personal and experiential. They don't require that we be separate from what we study. Quite to the contrary -- they focus our attention on our connection to everything. That is their magic.<br />
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<h3 class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
Meditation</h3>
I meditated every day. As I had learned, this practice is vital to my ability to stay present with what happens around me, from moment-to-moment. Awareness is a key component of contemplative observation and teaching, awareness of one’s inner and outer experience. Meditation is the method for cultivating awareness.<br />
<br />
<h3>
In-the-moment</h3>
I also practiced a special kind of contemplative observation called, ‘in-the-moment.’ It keeps the experience of presence fresh in my day-to-day life. <br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>September 2012</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>This morning on our walk through a neighborhood, I did in-the-moment. I noticed my mind was grabbing at the gardens, trying to take in every detail as we walked quickly by. There was a sort of desperate quality to it, of wanting to take it all in.</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>But there was also a very judgmental quality: gardens got a "good" or "bad" label almost instantly. </i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I breathed into these feelings of wanting to see everything and judging, and the feeling of my knowing what a good garden was (being right about the quality of gardening), and everything changed. Suddenly I saw everything that was there in front of me as an offering for my walk. The grasping was gone. The judgment was gone. The need to be right about what makes a good garden was gone. I simply saw everything, from the grass to the weeds, to the flowers, shrubs, architectural features, sculptures, garden art of various kinds, all of it was an offering for the world to see (Personal journal entry, September 2012).</i></blockquote>
<br />
That freedom from judgment is really special. In-the-moment facilitates that. You become fully present, aware of the spaciousness inherent in any situation, and you gain a new perspective that enables you to act more skillfully and effectively in any given situation. It’s especially useful when you’re experiencing emotions like those I was experiencing on my walk. Based on Brown’s (2012a) instructions, this practice can be done at any time in any place. I always start by noticing my inner experience without judging or trying to change it. I feel my body, just as it is. Next, I feel the earth (or floor or other surface upon which I sit or stand) and the space surrounding me, feeling myself a part of my natural environment. Next I focus on the space around me that is not filled with anything, the space between and inside things, including the space inside my body – the spaciousness that inheres in every situation. Then I fully take in the situation I am in, bringing my awareness to focus on an object, person or the entire scene. Keeping a sense of my inner energy and body sensations, and letting go of thoughts, I let the situation speak to me. I end the observations by pausing a moment as I let go of the experience. I breathe deeply, noticing again my inner state, along with any questions or insights I might have. The whole thing takes less than a minute.<br />
<br />
In-the-moment insights seem to ‘come from nothing’ as Lee Worley (2001) might describe it – from the pause, from feeling fully present, from contacting the sense of spaciousness that exists in every situation we are a part of. They are hard to explain, but refreshing and valuable. It makes me smile to experience how suddenly and mysteriously things change.<br />
<br />
I sometimes think I see the essence of in-the-moment in other contemplative practices: Pema Chodron suggests that especially when we “miss the mark,” that is, when we fail to meet our own expectations, instead of “spinning off into self-criticism,” we “look at what’s happening around us while simultaneously being aware of what’s happening inside us” (2012, Chapter 6):<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
First, come into the present. Flash on what’s happening with you right now. Be fully aware of your body, its energetic quality. Be aware of your thoughts and emotions. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Next, feel your heart, literally placing your hand on your chest if you find that helpful. This is a way of accepting yourself just as you are in that moment, a way of saying, ‘This is my experience right now, and it’s okay.’</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Then go into the next moment without any agenda (<i>Ibid</i>.). </blockquote>
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Thich Nhat Hanh (2006) tells us about a similar practice he shares through a Gatha he calls Ending the Day: “We can practice beginning anew at any moment of our lives” (pp. 117–118).<br />
<br />
I also see a relationship between in-the-moment and the simple practice of coming back to the breath without judgment when my mind has wandered during meditation as well as the demanding practice of tonglen, breathing in a painful feeling, my own or another’s, and breathing out relief, acceptance and equanimity. Chodron describes the practice:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Right on the spot, you own your feelings completely. Instead of pushing the emotions away, you’re completely in touch with them… Tonglen puts us in touch with all the others who are just like us, who feel the way we do (2012, Chapter 7). </blockquote>
Most important, in-the-moment has become a reliable way for me to make daily use of the special teachings we received in our second summer at Naropa, wherein we experienced the inseparability and mutability of what appear to us as opposing poles of emotion. For example, we might experience anger and jealousy as unpleasant; clarity and efficiently getting a job done as good. Or we might see arrogance and manipulation as bad; generosity and listening deeply as good. We learned we could transform unskillful states of being to their more skillful expressions, for example, anger to clear seeing and perspective, because they are not separate. They are all manifestations of the same basic energy. <br />
<br />
Transforming unskillful emotional states takes familiarity with them so that you recognize them in yourself, recognize when you are about to act on an emotion out of habit in a harmful, unproductive way. You catch yourself in the act, so to speak, and then sink into the physical sensation of the emotion (such as anger or obsession), contemplating it deeply like you would stare into a candle flame. There is no intellectual analysis in this. It is pure mindfulness of the physical sensation of the emotion. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
When you can simply be with the sensation of your emotion and experience it fully at the non-conceptual level, you will notice a dynamic reversal taking place … The energy … has a vast still center; like the eye of a hurricane… When you realize the empty nature of the sensation of emotional pain, the pain dissolves into an ecstatic sensation of presence and awareness (Chogyam & Dechen, 2003, p. 240).</blockquote>
This sounds quite dramatic, like magic. It is. So is in-the-moment. The transformation I recounted above on the walk through an Austin neighborhood was as close to miraculous as I experience in my day-to-day life. Seeing judgment fall away and perspective shift instantly does seem like a miracle. <br />
<br />
The secret of both in-the-moment and this practice of transforming unskillful states to more skillful ones is full presence with what’s happening in your body, your physical experience of an emotion, which brings about awareness of that spacious “vast, still center” that exists in every situation, even our most distressing emotional states. Contacting that center seems to free up the energy that we’re using to keep the unskillful state going. When that happens, the unskillful state collapses leaving clarity, compassion, generosity, peacefulness, and joy, among others, in its place. <br />
<br />
It is easy to forget that the painful emotional states and the joyous ones are not separate. It’s not about ‘getting rid of’ some and keeping the others.<br />
<blockquote>
<i>October 28, 2012<br /><br />But I came to think that wisdom would vanquish distortion, that experiencing space within the pain of separation would permanently dissolve it. It doesn’t work that way. Chogyam and Dechen continue:</i><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>There is no sudden breakthrough that remains forever – there are only sudden glimpses. But the glimpses encourage us to see more until, gradually, we develop the ability to integrate these experiences of unconditioned being with the rest of life (p. 241). </i></blockquote>
<i>So, it’s not about achieving freedom from pain. It’s about seeing how inseparable our wisdom is from our pain -- a hair’s breadth away. Not two. Brown (2012b, p. 6) alludes to this too:</i><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Awareness continually dawns, naturally. We can cultivate conditions that encourage that dawning, but we needn’t be hard on ourselves when we snooze, reject, or cling. This perspective on awareness that comes and goes, helps us develop compassion for others who are also loosing their minds.</i></blockquote>
<i> (Harper, 2012, p. 5).</i></blockquote>
In-the-moment contemplations were indispensable to building the experiential foundation that enabled me to accept the more subtle invitation to experience that teaching Birding with Buddha would offer me.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Haiku and Ikebana</h3>
I began incorporating Haiku and Ikebana into the reflective element of nature contemplation in early October 2012, and found them so useful that I decided to make them part of my study. I wrote them into the Birding with Buddha book, I introduced them during class, and I practiced them myself.<br />
<br />
After a period of contemplative observation, I reflect on what I have seen and heard by writing. First, I describe the scene and what happened. Then I describe my thoughts about it, how I felt emotionally, and the sensations I noticed in my body. These two together, the contemplative observation and period of reflection constitute the basic instruction for Birding with Buddha. <br />
<br />
At the end of the reflection, I pause, breathe, feel myself fully present in the space, and write the first line of a three-line poem. I find that I don’t have to 'think up' the next two lines, and they do much more than merely sum up the experience:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>October 8, 2012<br />Haiku and Ikebana drew out for me the non-conceptual aspects of the observation, qualities I would not even want to try to describe in words. Such words would rob the experience of its power as an image and a feeling. </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>It's not like looking at the Haiku and the Ikebana later necessarily brings up the experience and feeling, rather, the time and attention to creating them prolonged the immersion in the experience and feeling long enough to make of them stronger memories. The actual visual experience easily comes to mind, any time, along with the attendant feeling tone (Personal journal entry, Oct. 8, 2012). </i></blockquote>
When I add Ikebana to the mix of reflective contemplations, I follow the written reflection I just described with a period of pausing, breathing and feeling myself fully present in the space as for Haiku. But instead of, or in addition to, the Haiku, I gather five stems for an arrangement. I allow my gaze to be soft as I wander around in the space (usually my garden). I stop, let my eyes focus on the plant that first attracts my attention, and cut a stem. I repeat this step until I have five stems. I take them inside, choose a vase, and trim and arrange them with a minimum of thought.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>October 10, 2012<br /><b>Perception</b>: I heard two slurred notes then saw a tiny pale bird come down from the center of the tree to a feeder hanging in plain sight. He landed on the backside though. I only saw his tiny head popping out on the right over and over again. He flew down to the bowl of water below the feeder, perched on the edge and dipped his head towards the water several times. Then he flew up and to the right and out of sight. </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>Thoughts</b>: The feeder swaying in the breeze was rhythmic, as was the bird's head popping out from the back of the feeder over and over. I wondered, however, if I'd get a better look. I got bored and wished there were more birds. But then I was delighted when he flew down to the bowl, especially the way he flew, floating like a leaf. And I was shocked when he abruptly departed. </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>Feelings</b>: I felt interested, noticed a bit of straining to see the bird because he was so tiny and behind the feeder. I felt myself smile when he fluttered down to the water, and surprise when he flew. It took my breath away. I took a deep breath and felt the finality of the event, like it was a dream.</i></blockquote>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAh25P6PWiWiTQnKsCM8KNQQPSr_89oZH4qE4txAkb1nx_yAV9OKOeU7MmACraokyD6sy6xWnEQKHDM29TMr4x_HF8HhA2E_2Me6Rfc-yGv6pEXEyP8E-5GUMIS5f5wW5uyja/s1600/IMG_1244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAh25P6PWiWiTQnKsCM8KNQQPSr_89oZH4qE4txAkb1nx_yAV9OKOeU7MmACraokyD6sy6xWnEQKHDM29TMr4x_HF8HhA2E_2Me6Rfc-yGv6pEXEyP8E-5GUMIS5f5wW5uyja/s320/IMG_1244.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ikebana</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Tiny yellow head<br />Centers my attention<br />Oh! You fall like a leaf </i></blockquote>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Haiku</span></div>
<h4>
</h4>
<h3>
Journal</h3>
Sometimes I journal when I travel to watch birds with my friends, and even sometimes when I bird at home. These reflections help me to better understand the effect contemplative observation has on my experience of nature generally. I use the same journal to reflect about the experience of contemplative teaching.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Classes</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgquFqCZB9zkjPQl4IufzXF0p7V9z7Nt0vDTlz0RLdHrcOuvOR9MnDCMzdQM3f2MbW0LuvJ2_nT78jWcETQclrwwa1zLRNrj32E_5gWOyIupBz1DWPwzOF_wl3adsgHpI-5sBu/s1600/Class+setting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgquFqCZB9zkjPQl4IufzXF0p7V9z7Nt0vDTlz0RLdHrcOuvOR9MnDCMzdQM3f2MbW0LuvJ2_nT78jWcETQclrwwa1zLRNrj32E_5gWOyIupBz1DWPwzOF_wl3adsgHpI-5sBu/s320/Class+setting.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garden classroom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The four classes were 90 minutes long, each. I offered the students before each class a chapter or two from the book, Birding with Buddha. At the start of class, I read aloud a passage, and then we practiced contemplative observation following the instructions for that week’s chapter from the book. I practiced as well, making every effort to fully embody all aspects of the contemplative teacher. <br />
<br />
We held all of the classes in my garden, so we got to see spring come to life from late February through mid-March. While our first contemplation each week was from the book, our second contemplation was unrelated to birding, and chosen to help the students generalize the practice to other contexts. The contemplations on birds are at the end of each chapter in the book as the “Contemplative field trips.” Richard Brown introduced most of the complementary contemplations during the second half of our classes in the Summer Intensives. I presented them much as I learned them from him, with the exception of Beneath the Filters. I based it on two Contemplative Education Master’s Project presentations, Amy Howard’s in the Summer 2011, and Joanna Vausberg’s in Summer 2012. <br />
<br />
After each class, and at the end of the fourth class, I read my participants’ journal entries to see whether participants were able to follow the instructions, and what they experienced with the practice.<br />
<br />
I invited all of the participants to discuss their experiences of contemplation. Everyone participated. I did not record these or take notes. My own contemplative teaching experience was most intense during these discussions. I was as completely present as I could be, feeling into the subtle communications taking place – gesture, expression, body posture, tone, and other communicative elements. In staying present and receiving each contribution as an offering, as Kelly Petrie, one of my instructors, so nicely described her own contemplative practice of facilitating a discussion, I compassionately noticed my personal expectations and any judgments that arose in myself in response to what was offered … and opened to whatever arose and accepted the offerings with clarity and compassion (Ibid.). Clarity and compassion. What a combination. I reflected on the experience of contemplative teaching in my journal after each class ended. In effect, the classes were my contemplative observation of myself, as Kelly had suggested.<br />
<br />
Anyone may acquire a copy of Birding with Buddha from the iBookstore, or as a pdf. See the earlier entry here, <a href="http://georgiaharper.blogspot.com/2013/05/birding-with-buddha.html">Birding with Buddha</a>.<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
References</h3>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
Brown, R. C. (2012a). <i>In-the-moment
observation practice</i>. Unpublished lecture for online course EDU635e
Contemplative Teaching, Boulder, Colorado: Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Brown, R. C. (2012b). <i>The quality of
awareness: A transition to the ten aspects of knowledge</i>. Unpublished
lecture for online course EDU735e Transforming Curriculum and Instruction,
Boulder, CO: Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Chodron, P. (2012). <i>Living beautifully with
uncertainty and change</i>. Boston & London: Shambhala.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Chogyam, N., & Dechen, K. (2003). <i>Spectrum
of ecstasy: Embracing the five wisdom emotions of vajrayana Buddhism</i> (1st
ed.). New York & London: Aro Books.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Hanh, T. N. (2006). <i>Present moment
wonderful moment: Mindfulness verses for daily living</i> (2nd ed.). Berkeley,
CA: Parallax Press.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Harper, G. (2012, October 28). <i>Not five,
not four, not three, not two, not one</i>. Unpublished paper for online course
EDU 735 Transforming Instruction and Curriculum, Boulder, CO: Naropa
University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpLast">
<br />
Worley, L. (2001). <i>Coming from nothing</i>.
Boulder, Colorado: Turquoise Dragon Press.</div>
</div>
Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-60966621496078781422013-06-09T09:19:00.000-05:002013-06-09T09:19:02.834-05:00Contemplating nature<div class="tr_bq">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCP0Z_zJiXrR0ehGTi5AGiu3TFEgaHwufSgPzTxWAIsgOUW8z7GJL5z5lvd4av1ebHRc7uAOsx9sc_bRiBTB2SYRul5IznfBjK2lpyVtnxtO5j_Ied0t76S4wJOYuvgNWPVBc/s1600/BewicksWrenAlejandroErickson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCP0Z_zJiXrR0ehGTi5AGiu3TFEgaHwufSgPzTxWAIsgOUW8z7GJL5z5lvd4av1ebHRc7uAOsx9sc_bRiBTB2SYRul5IznfBjK2lpyVtnxtO5j_Ied0t76S4wJOYuvgNWPVBc/s320/BewicksWrenAlejandroErickson.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bewick's Wren CC*BY Alejandro Erickson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>October 28, 2012 </i><br /><br /><i>Leading a small group of birders on a sunny Sunday morning in the Texas Hill Country. I hear a bird scolding in a tree right in front of the group, only about 15' away. I see it through binoculars easily. I see its eyebrow, its taupe brown color, hear it sing a line or two and instantly know it's a Bewick's Wren. It flies out of the tree to a nearby low rock wall and others see it and recognize it as a wren. I call it as a Bewick's Wren and everyone turns away from it. </i><br /><br /><i>This is classic field trip behavior. Identify the bird ASAP, notify the group, call the name, game over. No one looked at the Wren again. Not even me (Personal journal entry, October 28, 2012). </i></blockquote>
<br />Birding is like that. Compulsive almost. Get the name, fast. Good! Move on. That’s what made me think it might be a good fit with contemplative observation. Slow the whole thing down. Relax with what was going on. Be there then. To be a little more precise, I thought that the idea of contemplative birding would be to lengthen and be comfortable with the time of not knowing – the time between when you first are aware of a bird and the moment when your mind attaches a label to it – and just observe the bird in all its aspects without words. What happened in practice, however, was that my mind would race to close the gap between seeing or hearing, and naming the bird. Expanding that time seemed impossible. Luckily, it was unnecessary. It took only a short time for me to realize that contemplative birding wasn’t actually about not naming. It was about observing the mind's desire to name, and letting go of that, along with the name when it appeared. <br /><br />That's just basic meditation practice applied to birding -- watch the mind’s desire to wander, to grasp, and let thoughts go and return to the present. That same kind of non-grasping way of being with what’s happening is at the heart of contemplative teaching and contemplative observation. You focus attention on what you see out there, take note of what you think about that, and what you feel, physically, in the body, and emotionally, and then let it go. Reflecting upon these outer (perceptual) and inner aspects of an experience enables insights into the relationship between the two. Ultimately, just as contemplative teaching dissolves the separation between teacher and student, contemplative observation can dissolve the separation between the birder and the bird. <br /><br />Contemplative practice is about “opening what is closed, balancing what is reactive, and exploring and investigating what is hidden. To open, to balance, and to explore" (Goldstein & Kornfield, 1987, p. 15). <br /><br />For example, when we are engaged in thought, our senses close much of the world out. We don’t pay close attention to our direct experiences -- to sight and sound, to smell and taste, to the sensations in our own bodies. When our senses are open to both our external and internal landscapes, we are able to go from the level of concepts -- naming -- to the level of direct observation, to what is really happening. <br /><blockquote>
This is one of the great rewards of birding: In searching for birds, you end up hearing, seeing, smelling a great deal more (Sengupta, 2011). </blockquote>
Thinking also tends to be reactive: we see or hear and immediately like or dislike. We can achieve some balance between these poles of judging by being aware without making choices. Awareness without choice isn’t hard. It’s just noticing. <br /><br /><b>Just notice. </b><br /><br />Through being open and just noticing, we begin to see things that are otherwise hidden beneath the concepts we normally use to know about our world. Our concepts, our names for things, can limit what we see. They freeze experience into discreet, static events, even though the truth about the world around us is that nothing is static. It’s all constant flux and flow. It’s all process. We can begin to see, hear, and explore that process if we slow down enough to notice it. <br /><br /><blockquote>
Without the rigidity of concepts, the world becomes transparent and illuminated, as though lit from within. … [T]he interconnectedness of all that lives becomes very clear. We see that nothing is stagnant and nothing is fully separate, that who we are, what we are, is intimately woven into the nature of life itself (Salzberg, 2011, p. 112). </blockquote>
<br />The only tools one needs to notice are eyes and ears and the other senses and all of the brain: the part that analyzes and synthesizes, and the part that sees and hears wordlessly. I didn’t know that my brain had such a part until I read the book, Stroke of Insight, by Jill Taylor (2006). Taylor, a neuroscientist, experienced a stroke that incapacitated the part of her brain that controls language, logic and math, among other things. The stroke left her capable of seeing the world, experiencing all phenomena including herself wordlessly, without commentary, without conceptual overlay – direct perception. She so valued the insight this gave her into the nature of existence that she fought for nearly a decade to reclaim her language and linear thinking skills so she could share with us what she learned. Reading her story assured me that I could see directly too, and I didn’t need to have a stroke to do it! It’s our birthright because we have a human brain. <br /><br />Contemplative observation encourages us to be curious about our own essential physical character. Paying attention to our body’s sensations is an integral part of the observation. It facilitates direct perception. Brown recommends that we begin each observation with a quick check-in with the body. How are we feeling? <br /><br /><blockquote>
Directly noticing our physical experience is a non-conceptual, or pre-conceptual experience. We could simply gaze upon our inner landscape, as if we were sitting in nature and taking in the whole scene without commentary. Of course, thoughts arise; but that’s no problem, because we notice and know how to work with them. The point is that direct perception is a source of knowledge. Thoughts are another source (Brown, 2012, p. 9). </blockquote>
<br />At the end of a practice session, after observation and reflection, a few moments spent reflecting on the reflection can reveal a lot about how the observer perceives and processes her environment (<i>Ibid</i>., p. 6). <br /><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9y7ez6C2r5ybBGsjKFE1PbmA6oUZqEyGS8AAqUZPiT-IDLNPcqCAW3uG_XKHeNaiFYmq-SOs4FJ4TTrEKw4ME7ODL7UrERBg0gcChNXUt5dF7tRU3jC2ZRJxLDq1ZDD1M3Uq/s1600/CardinalContemplative.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9y7ez6C2r5ybBGsjKFE1PbmA6oUZqEyGS8AAqUZPiT-IDLNPcqCAW3uG_XKHeNaiFYmq-SOs4FJ4TTrEKw4ME7ODL7UrERBg0gcChNXUt5dF7tRU3jC2ZRJxLDq1ZDD1M3Uq/s320/CardinalContemplative.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cardinal observation CC*BY Georgia Harper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>October 14, 2012 </i><br /><i> </i></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<i>Sitting in the garden, on the rocks that border what used to be the rose garden. It just stopped raining, the sun came out, and there are drops of water hanging like little lights all over the trees. <br /><br /> <b>Perceptions</b>: I notice a Cardinal on the upper bar of the sling chair. He faces first one way, then another. Fairly still, looking up and down. He flies to the nearby Mountain Laurel and begins to jump from branch to branch, always flicking his tail a time a two between each move. He gradually gets deeper into the foliage and I lose sight of him. Ne never sings or calls. <br /><br /> <b>Thoughts</b>: Is that the Tanager? No, it's the Cardinal. The Tanager is gone for the season. He's sort of still for a Cardinal. Oh, there's the tail flick. He's being awfully quiet. Nice view. Oh, there he goes, into the tree. Can barely see him now. I think he's moving carefully through the branches, not the kind of quick flickering of a smaller bird. <br /><br /> <b>Feelings</b>: Surprise to notice him suddenly. I didn't see him fly to the chair. I am happy to be out here. What a treat. I feel lucky. Relaxed, alert, no strain, no tension anywhere. <br /></i><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Haiku</b>:</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Suddenly there bright red<br />Back, forth, up, down<br />This way, that way, zig-zagging out of sight </blockquote>
<i>(Personal journal entry, October 14, 2012). </i></blockquote>
<br /> After practicing contemplative observation for a while, we might notice becoming mindfully aware more generally (Brown, 2012, p. 8), watching everything, including everyone, the same way we practice watching birds or our students or ourselves as we teach. That’s the idea! <br /><br />Contemplative observation facilitates wordless knowing of what’s out there and what’s inside. My own experience as a student at Naropa showed me how central it is to nurturing a contemplative approach to life in general. Teaching Birding with Buddha allowed me to explore that as a teacher.<br />
<br />
<h4>
References</h4>
<br />
<div class="csl-bib-body" style="line-height: 2; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;">
<div class="csl-entry">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Brown, R. C. (2012). <i>Observing learning communities</i>. Unpublished lecture for online course EDU635e Contemplative Teaching, Boulder, Colorado: Naropa University.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div class="csl-entry">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Goldstein, J., & Kornfield, J. (1987). <i>Seeking the heart of wisdom: The path of insight meditation</i>. Boston & London: Shambhala.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Seeking%20the%20heart%20of%20wisdom%3A%20The%20path%20of%20insight%20meditation&rft.place=Boston%20%26%20London&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.aufirst=Joseph&rft.aulast=Goldstein&rft.au=Joseph%20Goldstein&rft.au=Jack%20Kornfield&rft.date=1987&rft.tpages=195"></span>
</span><div class="csl-entry">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Salzberg, S. (2011). <i>Lovingkindness: The revolutionary art of happiness</i>. Boston, MA: Shambhala Publications.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A9781590305577&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Lovingkindness%3A%20The%20revolutionary%20art%20of%20happiness&rft.place=Boston%2C%20MA&rft.publisher=Shambhala%20Publications&rft.aufirst=Sharon&rft.aulast=Salzberg&rft.au=Sharon%20Salzberg&rft.au=Jon%20Kabat-Zinn&rft.date=2011&rft.tpages=271&rft.isbn=9781590305577"></span>
</span><div class="csl-entry">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sengupta, S. (2011, January 14). India through a birder’s eye. <i>New York Times</i>. New York, NY. Retrieved from http://travel.nytimes.com/2011/01/16/travel/16India.html?pagewanted=all </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div class="csl-entry">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Taylor, J. B. (2006). <i>My stroke of insight: A brain scientist’s personal journey</i>. Lulu.com.</span></div>
<span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1430300612&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=My%20stroke%20of%20insight%3A%20A%20brain%20scientist's%20personal%20journey&rft.publisher=Lulu.com&rft.aufirst=Jill%20Bolte&rft.aulast=Taylor&rft.au=Jill%20Bolte%20Taylor&rft.date=2006-11-01&rft.isbn=1430300612"></span>
</div>
Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-20174281745266811982013-05-25T14:21:00.000-05:002013-05-25T15:09:01.805-05:00Contemplative teaching<h3 class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-size: large;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1VxW1rj0PkrBZCgBkr55N5Y5imK3uYVUIML5EXSYoaBBs6sQfZ_XDlhI9VMqUmKg42nPaNMpSUYSESDUq7WhJJj8lUHmgPJA6WmsLkZxIxdGtdQ0FjJFqyAZ4npH_Ult0c3aI/s1600/Green+Heron+Habitat+Anita+Ritenour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1VxW1rj0PkrBZCgBkr55N5Y5imK3uYVUIML5EXSYoaBBs6sQfZ_XDlhI9VMqUmKg42nPaNMpSUYSESDUq7WhJJj8lUHmgPJA6WmsLkZxIxdGtdQ0FjJFqyAZ4npH_Ult0c3aI/s320/Green+Heron+Habitat+Anita+Ritenour.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Heron CC*BY Anita Ritenour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></h3>
<h3 class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wading in</span></h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpFirst">
<i>September 14, 2011</i></div>
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpLast">
<i>Ebbens’ (1996) comprehensive look at
contemplative teaching is a bit overwhelming. … Will I be able to hold all
these things together if this is what it takes to be contemplative? I feel a
weight in my chest, suggesting that the answer is, “it would take a miracle.” …
But, with the big picture in mind, there’s nothing else to do but take a deep
breath and simply be fully present in this moment (Kessler, 2000, p.
22).
I meditate daily. I remind myself moment-to-moment to stay open, to accept
situations as they are, let things speak for themselves, see the facts and
register them precisely, and not ignore the unpleasant aspects of what I see
and feel (Ebbens, 1996, p.
3).
I hope I’ve got it right -- this is the basic path of contemplative education.
For the moment I just need to focus on the moment. At least that seems doable <span style="mso-no-proof: yes;">(Harper, 2011a, p. 2)</span>.</i></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">
Looking back on that first fall semester of the
Naropa Contemplative Education Master’s Program, I see that I had very little
understanding of contemplative teaching. I was flailing around, drowning in the
sea of all that I had learned over the summer semester, the “Summer Intensive”
as it’s aptly described, grasping for the little rafts where I knew I could
rest, like returning to the present moment. But about halfway through that
semester, I began to get it. It really wasn’t so complicated as it seemed at
first. It came down to being off the cushion more like I was on it. Simple
enough!</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpFirst">
<i>November 7, 2011</i></div>
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpMiddle">
<i>Brown’s article, Taming our Emotions,
contained in the collection of essays, Nurturing our Wholeness (Miller &
Nakagawa, 2005, p. 3)
… defined contemplative education in a way I could live with now, rather than
imagine striving towards someday. “Rinpoche suggested that we should manifest
the effects of our practice of meditation in our everyday teaching. This he
called ‘contemplative education,’ …” (2005, p. 4).</i></div>
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpMiddle">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpLast">
<i>As our readings unfolded and built upon each
other over these six weeks, I found the emphasis on speech and silence, slowing
down of experience to see the five skandhas, and befriending … impatience, to
be intimately related and integral to my ability to manifest the effects of
meditation practice in the classroom, that is, to teach contemplatively <span style="mso-no-proof: yes;">(Harper, 2011c, p. 1)</span>.</i></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">
Ah, yes. I had read this exact thing on the program
Website when I first visited to learn about contemplative education. As the
semester continued, I ‘remembered’ more and more of what I had once known, but
forgotten:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpFirst">
<i>October 12, 2011</i></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="IndentquoteITALICCxSpLast">
<i>“The most important thing any teacher has to
learn, not to be learned in any school of education I ever heard of, can be
expressed in seven words: Learning is not the product of teaching. Learning is
the product of the activity of learners” (Holt, 1984, p.
10).
This seems to have become a part of who I am as a [student]. I believe learning
is personal, it’s active, and it flourishes without outside direction <span style="mso-no-proof: yes;">(Harper, 2011b, p. 1)</span>. </i></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">
By spring, 2012, I could <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">put into everyday practice</span> a few of the things we were learning. Faculty
at the University of Texas invite me to give lectures on copyright for their
students and these really began to change when I tried integrating
contemplative practices.</div>
<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>May 5, 2012 </i><br /><br /><i>“…giving students a voice that is heard and to do it in such a way that the dialog continues” (Palmer, 1997, p. 120 cited in Brown, 2012a, p. 2) … is easy to do. I quickly found that if I began my lectures by inviting the participants to ask questions right then, the lectures gradually disappeared! No kidding! After only a month of inviting questions at the start, my lectures went from about 30 minutes … to 0 minutes. The entire hour was taken up with discussion around student questions. Further, the topics I would have covered in the lecture were still, for the most part, covered, but in the context of factual settings intrinsically of interest to the students. This change facilitated an accommodation to another of Palmer’s suggestions – that we can reduce what we teach to the essentials: “Palmer writes about a fundamental challenge in our attempts to integrate contemplative practice into content-driven education: lack of space (time)” (Ibid., p. 7).</i><br /><br /><i> Turning over the role for directing the interaction to the students had other benefits as well: “By expanding beyond ourselves we can draw upon the energy of the subject, which is experienced as alive” (Ibid., p. 9). And we can draw upon the energy of our community:</i><br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>[P]racticing being present and extending loving-kindness to myself and others, polished a lens through which I could see how my role as instructor was changing, and how that changed the entire experience of a community of learners. … Inviting the energy of the audience, as integral to the experience, creates a joyful exchange from which we all leave more energized than when we came together (Harper, 2012a, p. 4).</i></blockquote>
<br /><i>(Harper, 2012b, p. 3).</i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;">Really knowing</span> </h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But it was the fall, 2012 when the light came on for me,
around something the Twelfth Tai Situpa (1992) said in Relative World Ultimate
Mind: One can teach “in an ordinary way, but … also … through mind transmission.”
And what was this ‘mind transmission?’</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="Indentquote">
It is a form of learning that emanates almost completely
from a person’s presence. … I learned from his eyes, from his gestures, from
moments when he simply put his hand on my head and gave me a blessing. Because
I was his student, it was his duty and his "goal" (so to speak) to
see that some of what he had to teach me went deep enough to change me, to …
eventually travel from him to live in me. It is an extraordinary level of
education, teaching and learning. … To my mind this is the very heart of
education -- what we are learning has changed us, now lives in us, and we are
able to gift others with it – to ‘transmit’ it (Michele Blumberg, Threaded
Discussion, Transforming Curriculum and Instruction, Oct. 30, 2012).</div>
</blockquote>
<div class="IndentquoteITALIC">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
This sounded very familiar to me as a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">student</i> in Naropa’s Contemplative
Education program. Through their words, gestures and actions, and through the
very structure and content of our course of study, our instructors were
demonstrating this kind of teaching, although I have never heard them call it
that. And to be fair, I am probably missing something really important here.
But this is what it sounded like to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
If this were true (or even remotely plausible),
then perhaps it was time for me to stop thinking of myself as teaching copyright
or even my other interest, Birding with Buddha, or any other subject, and start
thinking of myself as teaching contemplatively. There was only one way to find
out if the things I was learning were changing me, living in me, making me able
to give them to others. I needed to see if I too could share <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">contemplatively</i> on any subject, any
subject at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">
<br />
It is simple, really. At that point I had my own
understanding of contemplative teaching. This is what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I knew</i> it to be because this is how I had experienced my
contemplative teachers.</div>
<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>1. Contemplative teaching is constant mindfulness that we are all Buddhas, that we are all perfect ultimately. This is Situpa’s basic teaching: because the relative world fully coexists with ultimate mind, one can journey from relative imperfection towards ultimate perfection (1992, p. 134). My contemplative teachers were always mindful of this truth, graciously accepting and giving space to whatever the students said. I admired this trait, having experienced how it feels in that warm and accepting environment to contemplate contributing, and to speak without the catch in the throat that awaits judgment. But, I admit that until recently I despaired of ever embodying it myself because it’s so hard to stop the judging mind. Thankfully, another of our instructors, Kelly Petrie, shared a simple tool for cultivating it. It comes down to just noticing, which is no surprise:</i><br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I have found the act of facilitating to be a practice in mindfulness all by itself (a contemplative observation of myself you could say). It is an opportunity to compassionately notice my personal expectations and any judgments that arise in myself in response to what is offered. This awareness has allowed me to open to whatever arises and to accept the offerings with clarity and compassion (Threaded Discussion, Transforming Curriculum and Instruction, Nov. 28, 2012). </i></blockquote>
<br /><i>2. As Michele Blumberg described above, presence is the most salient aspect of being that contemplative teachers manifest in everything they teach. And as Situpa inspires us, “[b]y refining our words, our gestures, our actions – all of the ways that we shape our environment and the atmosphere in which we live – we can develop impeccable performance in our lives” (Ibid., p. 94). Impeccable performance is … presence.</i><br /><br /><i>3. And I could never over-emphasize the importance and power of the awareness of space. Lee Worley's pausing between each word emphasizing the space between them is an unforgettable reminder of the value of stopping for a moment, breathing space into whatever I am experiencing, and feeling it change, inevitably. Awareness of the spaciousness inherent in every situation gives me the capacity to find the wisdom in difficult emotional states, of which I have an unending supply.</i><br /><br /><i>4. There never really is a reason to hurry to get anywhere. “Not everything can be done at once” (Ibid., p. 134). Contemplative teaching allows me to take all things at a slow, measured pace, with no hint of concern about what we don't yet know. I can celebrate every little step taken.</i><br /><br /><i>5. Contemplative teaching integrates experience with intellect, non-conceptual learning with conceptual learning. This facilitates knowing at the deepest levels, wisdom, prajna (Harper, 2012c, pp. 1–4).</i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Prajna</i>
was difficult to grasp initially, but I came to understand it because I experienced
that special, deep kind of knowing through the systematic combination of
experience with intellectual exploration. Again and again our instructors
complemented readings with contemplative exercises that deepened and broadened
our experience of the ideas we read about and discussed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
Slowing down enough to learn from my own experience
was the thread I explored as a student at Naropa. Now it seemed time to start
exploring it as a teacher. I planned a study of contemplative birding around a
series of experiential exercises. But even as the day approached when I would
lead the first class, I still deeply doubted that I could bring contemplative
qualities to the experience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
Then, miraculously, Aurobindo Ghose took over
everything, waved a magic wand, and removed that doubt. Just before my first
class, I picked up one of the books we were reading that week, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Common Vision</i>, by David Marshak
(1997), to cover a few pages. Right away I came upon this about Ghose's idea of
integral education: "The psychic being ... is a powerful <i>inner
teacher</i>. … The child's psychic being can be apprehended by the teacher
through her own psychic being. … [T]he expression of the child's developmental
urge … is the direct manifestation of the psychic being" (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ibid.</i>, p. 91). The desire to learn is an
expression of our deepest being.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
And this, where Marshak directly quotes Ghose,
struck me just as profoundly: "'The first principle of true teaching is
that nothing can be taught'" (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ibid.</i>,
p. 92). Ah, yes. John Holt told me the same thing. I read this a long time ago,
didn’t I?</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
No matter. As I continued to read, these two ideas
stayed with me this time -- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">psychic
connection</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nothing to teach</i>.
They stayed with me all through my first class where, not surprisingly, they
affected my teaching experience. They stayed with me the rest of the afternoon,
in the back of my mind, but they stunned me with their power at the Broken
Spoke, one of Austin's best country-western dance halls.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
I experienced nothing short of magic there: I
simply lacked a sense of judging. Normally, I’m challenged by country-western
dancing. I’m not that good at it and it seems that I struggle to learn new
steps, and to coordinate with my partner. It combines a teaching and learning
challenge. But that night I saw everyone and every event -- every dance and
every 'sitting one out,' the old familiar songs, the new songs, the feeling of
thirst, the feeling of exhilaration, the smoothness of the dance floor, the
shuffling of my boots across it, the feel of my partner’s hand on my back, my
own hand on his shoulder, the crowded dance floor, the swaying of the rhythm of
the dance, everything – as just what it was. I could not immediately account
for this lack of judging. I didn't like or not like anything, including my own
or other dancer’s dancing! I didn’t think about the dance. I connected with
every person there in a way I never have before. The magical aspect of this
change in perspective was that it was effortless. Judging was just gone, like
smoke on a fresh breeze. The whole thing was just so odd.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">
<br />
Later, as I thought about it, I recalled that
Welwood (2000) had described something like this in one of my favorite of his
pieces, Dialectic of Awakening:</div>
<div class="IndentquoteCxSpFirst">
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
When someone opens completely to what they are
experiencing, the personality -- which is an activity of judgment, control, and
resistance -- disappears for a moment (Welwood, 2000, p. 103). </blockquote>
</div>
<blockquote>
<div class="IndentquoteCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="IndentquoteCxSpLast">
The ultimate practice here is learning to remain
fully present and awake in the middle of whatever thoughts, feelings,
perceptions, or sensations are occurring and to appreciate them ... as
Dharmakaya -- as an ornamental display of the empty, luminous essence of
awareness. They are the radiant clarity of awareness in action (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ibid</i>., p. 106).</div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Fully present and awake. But I think there was
something more. There was a pervasive sense of spaciousness. The Aurobindo
Ghose passages had breathed some space into and around the ideas I had about
teaching and learning. Suddenly the space of what a teacher is and what a
teacher does just opened up. “Nothing can be taught.” The dance hall experience
of effortless awareness and connection, of direct experience, let me <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel</i> what it was like to simply enjoy
dancing, as I dance at this time. Just that. The sense of connection was much
more valuable than any lesson I could give or take from analyzing the steps.
That experience also let me see very clearly that the study I had in mind for
Birding with Buddha <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">assumed a level of
separation </i>between my students and me that now felt inimical to
contemplative teaching as well as contrary to my own direct experience of
reality. It seems I thought I would "teach" the contemplative
practice and evaluate how well students learned it, whether they experienced
what I experienced, and whether the book I had written effectively instructed
them in the practice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
All that simply fell away. Yes, I had written a
book about contemplative birding; maybe I could improve it; I could affect the
environment for the classes by arranging them to facilitate the interests we
all shared; I could affect the experience by being present and relating to each
person from my heart, from psychic being to psychic being as Ghose would have
put it; I could model the practice that I wanted to encourage; but I would not
teach them anything (Marshak, 1997,
pp. 92–94).</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br />
So even worse than at the last minute, actually
after the classes began, I became fully committed to teaching contemplatively
because I knew I could do it. I felt so many things shift on the dance floor,
and saw for myself the truth of the ideas we had studied. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">experienced</i> that I was ready. </div>
<h3 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></h3>
<h3 class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: large;">References</span></h3>
Brown, R. C. (2012). <i>Creating learning
communities: Reflections on Parker Palmer’s work</i>. Unpublished lecture for
online course EDU635e Contemplative Teaching, Boulder, CO: Naropa University.
<br />
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Ebbens, S. (1996, August). Contemplative
teaching. General Pedagogical Studycentre, Utrecht.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Harper, G. (2011a, September 14). <i>Contemplative
education? What’s that?</i> Unpublished paper for online course EDU EDU 635e
Contemplative Teaching, Boulder, CO: Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Harper, G. (2011b, October 12). <i>Role of the
teacher</i>. Unpublished paper for online course EDU 615e Perspectives in
Sacred Learning, Boulder, CO: Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Harper, G. (2011c, November 7). <i>Silence and
noticing</i>. Unpublished paper for online course EDU EDU 635e Contemplative
Teaching, Boulder, CO: Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Harper, G. (2012a, March 27). <i>Teaching
outside the cocoon</i>. Unpublished paper for online course EDU EDU 635e
Contemplative Teaching, Boulder, CO: Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Harper, G. (2012b, May 5). <i>Presence builds
community</i>. Unpublished paper for online course EDU 735 Transforming
Instruction and Curriculum, Boulder, CO: Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Harper, G. (2012c, December 12). <i>Embodying
wisdom: The Buddha, the Twelfth Tai Situpa, you and me</i>. Unpublished paper
for online course EDU 735 Transforming Instruction and Curriculum, Boulder, CO:
Naropa University.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Holt, J. (1984). Teaching is no mystery. <i>Growing
without schooling</i>, <i>40</i>, 10. Retrieved from <a href="http://www.holtgws.com/gws40.html">http://www.holtgws.com/gws40.html</a> </div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Kessler, R. (2000). The teaching presence. <i>Virginia
Journal of Education</i>, <i>94</i>(2). Retrieved from <a href="http://passageworks.org/wp-content/uploads/file/The_Teaching_Presence_VJ.pdf">http://passageworks.org/wp-content/uploads/file/The_Teaching_Presence_VJ.pdf</a>
</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Marshak, D. (1997). <i>The common vision</i>.
New York: Peter Lang Publishing.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Miller, J., & Nakagawa, Y. (2005). <i>Nurturing
our wholeness: Perspectives on spirituality in education</i> (Cdr.). Brandon,
Vermont: Holistic Education Press.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpMiddle">
<br />
Palmer, P. J. (1997). <i>The courage to teach:
Exploring the inner landscape of a teacher’s life</i> (1st ed.). San Francisco:
Jossey-Bass.</div>
<div class="Bibliography2CxSpLast">
<br />
Situpa, T. T. (1992). <i>Relative world ultimate
mind</i> (1st ed.). Boston & London: Shambhala.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-30264042837697297852013-05-21T15:24:00.002-05:002013-05-23T16:03:38.851-05:00Birding with Buddha<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLR0htN1hP9gumOJYOd68VQgzuTO-WncHTfnu8_yxAEwxZunjB-3fGkKrhoKgfi9Sles3OyhtJp9yeNgiyChh3dZUeDVbDZRZG9Y-2FxnYJTa3_LIACWKWvaj3EQyERtDrczJ/s1600/GiantBuddhawBird+Ekke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLR0htN1hP9gumOJYOd68VQgzuTO-WncHTfnu8_yxAEwxZunjB-3fGkKrhoKgfi9Sles3OyhtJp9yeNgiyChh3dZUeDVbDZRZG9Y-2FxnYJTa3_LIACWKWvaj3EQyERtDrczJ/s320/GiantBuddhawBird+Ekke.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buddha with bird, CC*BY Ekke</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
Contemplating Nature</h3>
I finished <i>Birding with Buddha</i> this month. It is designed to accompany the course I taught this spring, and it's not really meant to stand alone, but see notes below to acquire a free copy. <br />
<br />
It was a modest undertaking and yet it has taken me awhile. I taught it first as a course, Zen Birding, in 2011, and again this spring, as Birding with Buddha, my research project for a Master's Degree in Contemplative Education from Naropa University. I refined it a lot over the last three years, partly as a result of the things I learned teaching it. But I read so many wonderful articles and books over the course of my studies at Naropa that I knew would enrich the text immeasurably, that it's a very good thing that I was able to make it my research project and stretch out the time to sit with it, so to speak. I know it is better for the time I've spent at Naropa.<br />
<br />
Now what?<br />
<br />
I really don't know. That's supposed to be a good thing. It is what it is.<br />
<br />
<h3>
If you would like a copy of Birding with Buddha</h3>
Birding with Buddha is available in the iBookstore, or you can download it here. I wrote the book in iBooks Author, so it is formatted for the <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B6dTL18LoCRHNFNjYzdNdy1ielk/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">iBooks reader</a>. If you visit this page and press and hold the link in Safari on your iPad or other device with iBooks reader installed, Safari should give you the option to open the file with iBooks. But if you access the link from your computer, whether Mac or PC, just download it and either sync it to your iPad iBooks reader or email it to yourself and open the attachment on the iPad with iBooks. Best of luck!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B6dTL18LoCRHdk9lU3BWVndmeUE/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank">A pdf is available</a>
too, even though it is not so good an alternative. The sounds in Chapter 3 do not play in the pdf format. I would
suggest that the reader listen to <i>any</i> bird sounds in place of the
recordings -- whatever is chirping outside your window. <br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
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<br />
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<br />Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-48998410939635927332012-04-22T19:19:00.000-05:002012-05-28T17:48:02.270-05:00A day of contemplation in the garden<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJbVDLtMV0biAhQVaIMRJdBtfNm2t9GwGhZKA_oYkTxlcD5fyjqZe67xuUHpOMAcPBdkpHiV9uXKlBd8gHVjjY_tbFH6cwW4IIwO_JN9G2leH8uMQbENyfGByopxqSBirE45Z/s1600/Earth+Day+2007+-+Atlantic+Reflection+%7C+Flickr+-+Photo+Sharing!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJbVDLtMV0biAhQVaIMRJdBtfNm2t9GwGhZKA_oYkTxlcD5fyjqZe67xuUHpOMAcPBdkpHiV9uXKlBd8gHVjjY_tbFH6cwW4IIwO_JN9G2leH8uMQbENyfGByopxqSBirE45Z/s200/Earth+Day+2007+-+Atlantic+Reflection+%7C+Flickr+-+Photo+Sharing!.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: CC*BY FlyingSinger</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Today is Earth Day. I am spending as much of it as I can outside just <i>being</i> in the garden. With my cat. She's so laid back.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeI2y9MpQ5-996jSDmQWEeTbtrpq7wF76GWEC5AV4XC4Nw6inpdbX7i3Kqy53IU5ZTv8z8j7dQhVVut0Cob7UQcIriAIAfAtVvTia3ricb64QWBzQepl2Wv9n0V6FcGbRjm8I5/s1600/Garden10806+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeI2y9MpQ5-996jSDmQWEeTbtrpq7wF76GWEC5AV4XC4Nw6inpdbX7i3Kqy53IU5ZTv8z8j7dQhVVut0Cob7UQcIriAIAfAtVvTia3ricb64QWBzQepl2Wv9n0V6FcGbRjm8I5/s200/Garden10806+036.jpg" title="" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty Girl</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
What luck! We're joined there by the Austin symphony of spring birds playing their best solos -- its the spring breeding season and no one wants to be ignored. Over the course of this single day I've heard, in no particular order, Chuck-will's-widow, Summer tanager, Louisiana waterthrush, White-eyed vireo, Golden-cheeked warbler, Nashville warbler, Northern cardinal, Spotted towhee, House finch, Lesser goldfinch, Black-crested titmouse, Carolina chickadee, Carolina wren, Great-horned owl, Great-crested flycatcher, Black-chinned hummingbird, Eastern phoebe, White-winged dove, Purple martin, Blue-gray gnatcatcher. I must be forgetting somebody.<br />
<br />
And there are a few that seem to be missing. Where are the Blue jays, the Northern mockingbirds and the Chimney swifts? What about the Bewick's wren and the Red-eyed vireo? I heard them yesterday. Well, so it goes.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbVwz70AUAvl1e-k-PMgLuFUaA8bj1J4cyWO0BFMagE5GyoAIdwsTtMNReUOLrhyphenhyphen7E88hjL4CjeC66hW6jEPzlq_Mtcrp3XN8CDYw6jJnMiRLjd30Inipu2q9Ad6MdjyS85Oi/s1600/Summer+Tanager+%5Bmale%5D+%7C+Flickr+-+Photo+Sharing!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbVwz70AUAvl1e-k-PMgLuFUaA8bj1J4cyWO0BFMagE5GyoAIdwsTtMNReUOLrhyphenhyphen7E88hjL4CjeC66hW6jEPzlq_Mtcrp3XN8CDYw6jJnMiRLjd30Inipu2q9Ad6MdjyS85Oi/s200/Summer+Tanager+%5Bmale%5D+%7C+Flickr+-+Photo+Sharing!.jpg" width="147" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: CC*BY .:[Melissa]:.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I hope I never forget how beautiful a place this is, how sweet and fresh the air, how delicate the web of activity that brings it all to life in an unending process of birth, growth, decay, death and renewal. Like those little 8-spotted Forester moths that showed up recently, innocently hanging out around the Virginia creeper. And then a few weeks later, what? What on earth is skeletonizing the Virginia creeper -- oh -- it's a little caterpillar, which I look up and find is ... 8-spotted Forester moth larvae. Of course. And the birds love to eat the caterpillars. And I learned today that it's no surprise that the Summer tanagers hang out here. We have a bee-hive in the side of our cliff and Summer tanagers eat, yes, bees. Their favorite thing. It's like poetry only more beautiful and without words.<br />
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</div>Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-84896081228646268402012-04-21T18:57:00.000-05:002012-04-21T18:57:08.722-05:00Reflecting on a symposium<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvP1Z7wxdTHgYu-PeFLY8vStMxHZsc2fCs4Hzg2Oc4OpA-M8kSaUJZVnnBU8WVOnHb76kP1ZDBDwmyLVvQ9eel3eDP1sPIeNG4cHqJHL4c2NgROglxZwLPYIp8_O3u9GVJi4Oc/s1600/banner2.png.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="46" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvP1Z7wxdTHgYu-PeFLY8vStMxHZsc2fCs4Hzg2Oc4OpA-M8kSaUJZVnnBU8WVOnHb76kP1ZDBDwmyLVvQ9eel3eDP1sPIeNG4cHqJHL4c2NgROglxZwLPYIp8_O3u9GVJi4Oc/s200/banner2.png.png" width="200" /></a></div>
I attended a symposium in mid-April. Following are my notes about and reflections on one of the panel discussions. You can find the traditional takes on the conference, and the presenters' materials, as well as a treasure trove of resources at the <a href="http://www.law.berkeley.edu/orphanworks.htm" target="_blank">Symposium Website</a>.<br />
<br />
My notes, however, in poetry form, convey something different, something unlike a typical set of notes from a conference. I listened and watched utilizing the practice called contemplative observation -- seeing what the senses perceive, how the mind reacts with thoughts and feelings, and which body sensations the whole experience evokes. The contemplative education department at Naropa University teaches the practice, developed by Richard C. Brown. It helps integrate the benefits of a meditation practice into daily life. Most importantly, one learns as much about oneself as about the events taking place in the surrounding space.<br />
<br />
It is somewhat like <a href="http://georgiaharper.blogspot.com/2011/03/zen-birding.html" target="_blank">Birding with Buddha</a>, observing contemplatively "to see beyond ordinary thinking to a wordless awareness that unites us with all phenomena in the all-encompassing process that life is" (Harper, 2011).<br />
<br />
So, it may sound a little crazy, and it is, but that's what keeps the practice interesting. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<h1>
Life symposium -- see, oppose, breathe, rest, accept</h1>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3>
Perception</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The room a mix of art deco drab brown and tan<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Participants -- black and dark shades of blue and gray<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The speakers all men, the audience mixed, but mostly men <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first speaker’s tenor is witty and frank<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His voice, high-pitched as he admits his earlier naïveté,
plaintively advocates letting things sit and allowing people to "bolden-up"
(which he knows we all have in the last ten years) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Congress screws up when it tries to deal with the future,
rather than settle disputes of the past”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ambiguity is slack in the system; he likes that<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Reflection</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me too<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Perception</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We sit around large
round tables, all facing the stage, quite still, some heads bowed, like mine
while I type<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sipping coffee <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Reflection </h3>
<h2>
<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Barely breathing, shallow, cramped breaths<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remind myself to breathe; I forget to breathe<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I notice that my shoulders are hunched <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I lower them <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They creep back up<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the speaker makes jokes I laugh and some of the tension
dissolves<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then it comes right back <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder, “Am I the only person in jeans?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah, a guy, an earring, and jeans<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breathe <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not at home with these still black, blue and gray guys<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But only moments ago -- embraces, kisses, laughs and joyful chatter
graced and filled and expanded and warmed the space<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one else is really here <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only old friends; 20 years of practice <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Twenty years of practicing… what? And what for?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That sinking feeling<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m overwhelmed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What did he just say?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fear of missing an important and relevant fact<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s just too much<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
See, I'm holding my breath – oh that helps…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah, but there's a different way to <i>see</i>, to <i>hear</i>, to <i>know</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I straighten up; I breathe, raise my chin, raise my eyes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The room is still the same <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's still, really still <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Quiet<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thoughtful <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone here cares, even industry<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A lot<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could not have seen that before <i>clear seeing, heart knowing</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Register wants to amend Section 108<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My opposition, a surprise<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t care, do I?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish not<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breathe -- I do<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I <i>see</i> that now<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Suddenly I notice -- my clothes so tight around me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They squeeze my chest, my arms, my legs, my back<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the speaker says “I saved this!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I smile<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I smile, laugh and really listen <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not feel so overwhelmed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I lose self-consciousness<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t feel squeezed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But then preoccupation returns <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Perception</h3>
<h2>
<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s ranting<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Reflection</h3>
<h2>
<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Does he not see<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So SNCC is defunct – so there is no one to
complain<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His risk is zero, or close to it; he need not worry so<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sit down; shut up<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I need to move around<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been sitting too long<br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Perception</h3>
<h2>
<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rick Prelinger – wearing a tux? No, but<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Polished silver hair, parted down the middle<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A fabulous sense of humor<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Security through obscurity; he collects ephemera<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Reflection </h3>
<h2>
<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ephemera, like the color of his hair, my skin, our
positions, our health <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like thoughts, like feelings, “like clouds in a windy sky”
as Hanh (2006, p. 53) says of feelings<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hmmm<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He <i>collects</i>
ephemera; not wanting to let it go<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s what librarians do; saving things for others to see, to
touch, to feel, to listen to, to learn from – ordinary <i>prajna</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I lean against the chair back<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breathe easier<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The puzzle is so complex; my part of it so small; I smile
about that; not so much to worry about after all<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But people who want to remodel their homes must petition the
copyright board in Canada for permission to reproduce their own blueprints<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How screwed up is that?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Perception</h3>
<h2>
<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Prelinger makes the 1%/99% argument <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The third speaker to make it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get it, but…<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h3>
Reflection</h3>
<h2>
<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He is the best, making his argument so eloquently, still,
outside this room, no one will listen to him<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Congress will solve the 1%’s problem<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rest of us be damned, and we will be ignored<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whether we speak eloquently, with wit and charm, or yell and
rant and curse them and their horses and dogs and children<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the way it is here<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I read today about icebergs making slow slides into the sea,
speeding up more than we thought<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so it will go, all of it<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<h1>
Concluding Reflection<o:p></o:p></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Observing a panel session at a conference in this way,
contemplating, not just listening to, what is being said, but also the
manner of its presentation, the attitude of the audience, the engagement across
the divide between podium and floor, and my moment-to-moment formulation of various
responses to it – in my body and my mind, my thoughts, feelings, sensations,
the ups and downs of the flow of my energy – this is priceless.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aware of my self, of the space, of what is going on across the
field of sense perceptions, I come to a new understanding of how to
communicate with those with whom I work who want to know about copyright law. I think differently with the part of my brain that does not always need words
to inform me, I trust in a process other than analysis and synthesis to respond to
others. I see that ordinary analysis and synthesis, while quite
valuable, are nevertheless dualistic, so they are not all there is.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Contemplative observation allows me to glimpse the field
of being where we’re all <i>really</i> in
this together. Presence is the key. "When someone opens completely to what
they are experiencing, the personality -- which is an activity of judgment,
control, and resistance -- disappears for a moment" (Welwood, 2000, p. 103). And I need those moments of full
presence, those glimpses of clear seeing to help me touch lightly the sadness I
feel when I think about all the pain we experience, the achingly beautiful
world we share, and how we must all let it all go, one by one. I can balance with this a little better each day. I am so grateful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: 0in;">
The
ultimate practice here is learning to remain fully present and awake in the
middle of whatever thoughts, feelings, perceptions, or sensations are occurring
and to appreciate them, in Mahamudra/Dzogchen terms, as Dharmakaya -- as an
ornamental display of the empty, luminous essence of awareness. They are the
radiant clarity of awareness in action (<i>Ibid.</i>, p.
106).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<h1>
References<o:p></o:p></h1>
Hanh, T. N. (2006). Present moment wonderful moment: Mindfulness
verses for daily living (2nd ed.). Berkeley, CA: Parallax Press.<br />
<br />
Harper, G. (2011, March 8). Zen birding. <i>Lifelong learning</i>. Retrieved from http://georgiaharper.blogspot.com/2011/03/zen-birding.html<br />
<br />
Welwood, J. (2000). Dialectic of awakening. In T. Hart (Ed.), <i>Transpersonal
knowing: exploring the horizon of consciousness</i> (pp. 85–106). New York, NY:
SUNY Press.Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-12473623548259302132011-08-05T13:16:00.000-05:002011-08-05T13:16:02.158-05:00TraditionsYesterday and this morning, I became part of a long-standing tradition: I chose Chinese medicine to treat a health condition.<br />
<br />
I've ended up over the course of the last 3 months with a really bad cough. I checked with my doctor and she noted that since my allergy meds, taken regularly, have done nothing to remedy the cough, it's fair to assume it's not caused by allergies. But I also have asthma. She thought that the really hot, dry and windy conditions we're experiencing here in Austin (and that I also experienced in Colorado, at least the dry and windy part of it) exacerbate asthma symptoms. She's been hearing a lot of complaints from her patients with asthma. So, she suggested I try an asthma inhaler that reduces inflammation, which I agreed to do. I have tried them before, and they really do improve my breathing.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulznpHYgHhXMd3qlPR3tqOk6p6bKgN9twk6XH-1uhYZlmMCGB2o7xudOaIDOiC97nzd6s5EKrccIOm5ktothMJ_4j8_WQgwc7q3Yvml0ct-ZKy5FE05ZH-ejRPAf0qB-yfeSR/s1600/chineseherbsforasthma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulznpHYgHhXMd3qlPR3tqOk6p6bKgN9twk6XH-1uhYZlmMCGB2o7xudOaIDOiC97nzd6s5EKrccIOm5ktothMJ_4j8_WQgwc7q3Yvml0ct-ZKy5FE05ZH-ejRPAf0qB-yfeSR/s320/chineseherbsforasthma.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My asthma herbs & other healthy things<br />
CC*BY GKH</td></tr>
</tbody></table>But I also went to see Billy, my acupuncturist, got a treatment, signed up for a weekly series of them for awhile, and got three little paper bags full of Chinese herbs from the Turtle Dragon shop down the street from his office.<br />
<br />
Billy prescribed Chinese herbs once before when I had a really bad case of bronchitis, and I recalled mainly that they tasted awful. These aren't the same ones. I brewed them up this morning and to my surprise, they tasted rather good. Well, maybe it was the three slices of fresh ginger I added to them (part of the recipe!). But in any event, the tea was very nice. I will take this medicine 30 minutes after each meal for the next 6 days. Then we'll see about that inhaler.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwWNPqVcud-PNHD0JKijFNvViXv3ree2Vf_P19fbV_kkvpoew3O4YAyDc3fr72QnEPaLuTOj3o2e6sFy1dV1Nw-t8k7XNaHLj8FBj9MaBrvL6VXDHnuehEf6tExHgdEOUaQzGa/s1600/JimmyshomeschoolmomChineseherbstore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwWNPqVcud-PNHD0JKijFNvViXv3ree2Vf_P19fbV_kkvpoew3O4YAyDc3fr72QnEPaLuTOj3o2e6sFy1dV1Nw-t8k7XNaHLj8FBj9MaBrvL6VXDHnuehEf6tExHgdEOUaQzGa/s200/JimmyshomeschoolmomChineseherbstore.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese herb shop<br />
CC*BY Jimmyhomeschoolmom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So, I'm not Chinese. So I've never been to China. It's still tradition. And I like tradition. And I would love for these treatments to tame this cough. If they don't, well that's ok. Best to try though, before I embrace the western approach. The inhaler contains an ingredient that, according to the mile-long insert in the box, "increases asthma-related deaths." Hmmm. I am pretty sure the inhaler will work, and I'm pretty sure that, odds are, I'm not going to suffer unreasonably with side-effects, but geez, some of them can be real doozies.Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-50442472948618630462011-07-31T12:56:00.000-05:002011-07-31T12:56:59.331-05:00Getting a little perspective on your yard birdsAs I packed for my summer trip to Boulder, I planned to bring my binoculars and bird book, but at the last minute, I put them both away, recognizing that I wasn't going to have time for birding. Boulder was not a birding trip. Nonetheless, when I first arrived, I noticed right away that there were many new unfamiliar bird sounds as well as some that I knew but which were slightly different, suggesting maybe a different but related species to the ones I was familiar with at home. I just listened.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheStOj7nlCJY-Ip9Aj-x5ILwVith3Icalz3MU-E7IzASyUyQyIUMwi-1yGfjN-67hUKW1qqMH3YlKQmNPiY58oquj_7GSodOneqpIeFXGqt7AjExiQ_HJOFwgSPiLBlefODsFZ/s1600/IMG_0750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheStOj7nlCJY-Ip9Aj-x5ILwVith3Icalz3MU-E7IzASyUyQyIUMwi-1yGfjN-67hUKW1qqMH3YlKQmNPiY58oquj_7GSodOneqpIeFXGqt7AjExiQ_HJOFwgSPiLBlefODsFZ/s200/IMG_0750.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flatirons, Chautauqua<br />
GKH CC*BY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Little by little I got better at just listening, and on a day trip to Chautauqua, I sat in the woods along the trail into the Flatirons just listening. It truly was a musical delight. Only once or twice did my mind grab onto a label, or my eyes wander to the source of sound.<br />
<br />
But I did find it odd that I couldn't see any of the birds.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYjAYtepd1OrdhCaqwRn9fDOy6N85PrMMv5bFq3kmHbyS7uS4tCtnR1rBHM4aDE-8d8J5dYc8GiO2aExHELpNk1iZqcMF9xBmdhiT0rUQDK7En7FcyMzpxlNkJoKt-Y2qLgs5/s1600/redflicker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYjAYtepd1OrdhCaqwRn9fDOy6N85PrMMv5bFq3kmHbyS7uS4tCtnR1rBHM4aDE-8d8J5dYc8GiO2aExHELpNk1iZqcMF9xBmdhiT0rUQDK7En7FcyMzpxlNkJoKt-Y2qLgs5/s200/redflicker.jpg" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Good <br />
CC*BY*NC*ND</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Gradually that changed. I saw a Red-shafted Northern Flicker's flight feather on the ground on my walk home one morning and picked it up. I had heard them in the trees at the entrance to our building, Lincoln Hall, but I never saw them.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiknFTKgz6kFlkY85Bzey9LYaJH1NOgXdeAmvkfCDztz4R_zWMa4SsizoEmA0bdqbMIbP-aPyD9mu1LvQM2bGH1lil7K6IxppL9dYK800G08lWeGk3twZ84dXV4QahFEtgY49E/s1600/broad-tailedhummer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiknFTKgz6kFlkY85Bzey9LYaJH1NOgXdeAmvkfCDztz4R_zWMa4SsizoEmA0bdqbMIbP-aPyD9mu1LvQM2bGH1lil7K6IxppL9dYK800G08lWeGk3twZ84dXV4QahFEtgY49E/s200/broad-tailedhummer.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coby Leuschke <br />
CC*BY*NC*ND</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Then one morning, a Hummingbird made an appearance, calling an alarm above the flowering plants around the trees at the entrance to Lincoln. I noticed that the leaves of the plants below her were waving in a pattern that at first suggested they were being fanned by her wingbeats. It took a few seconds for me to realize that something was on the ground at the base of those plants, hidden from view. Its movement along the ground caused the tops of the plants to wave. It had her quite riled up. I never discovered what it was, however, because I was about to be late to morning mediation, so I left the mystery unsolved when she flew away.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"></div>A few days later, a flock of Chickadees appeared in the trees visible through one of the windows of Shambhala Hall, our mediation room. I could tell that they weren't Carolinas, but unsure of what they were, I just listened and watched. Later, a female House Finch appeared on the roof of our apartments, in the courtyard.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBb81Vi51uoakEp_2dTvIzA2-fgCGPTgWjRHmcP4_GbwDReGLLomfyi5iMPLMXNo7M8WuSV6ca8KqtpIF3ISC-QKBkTBJYFH2Tr0JzLgolxgQ4XjFtfoM4fyC1QcZdYvgEAuhj/s1600/robinsLizSloan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBb81Vi51uoakEp_2dTvIzA2-fgCGPTgWjRHmcP4_GbwDReGLLomfyi5iMPLMXNo7M8WuSV6ca8KqtpIF3ISC-QKBkTBJYFH2Tr0JzLgolxgQ4XjFtfoM4fyC1QcZdYvgEAuhj/s320/robinsLizSloan.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robins in Snow Lion Courtyard -- Liz Sloan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>And then I noticed a female American Robin sitting on a nest in the courtyard. She eventually hatched and fledged three babies.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"></div>One day Crows and Ravens showed their tails in flight so I could tell them apart without binoculars, even without glasses. And then, on an afternoon walk, I heard the sound of the Flicker in a tree above me and looked up and saw him in a hole in one of the branches of the tree. These occasional sightings always made me feel happy and present. But beyond the occasional squirrel or raccoon on campus, and these few birds, the wildlife in Boulder was sparse to say the least.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKMim1fXXPh-OKrscGvktryJSe_sxMlH-YHSpBd8PzqI7RO-AtO-1FTtrEAALvG02SGnho5wl8UvWc98qjUitUt1sWOrhnGE6_UGR94jSaa42QDnU-qLXfJhQumUNkJUABNfp/s1600/IMG_0056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKMim1fXXPh-OKrscGvktryJSe_sxMlH-YHSpBd8PzqI7RO-AtO-1FTtrEAALvG02SGnho5wl8UvWc98qjUitUt1sWOrhnGE6_UGR94jSaa42QDnU-qLXfJhQumUNkJUABNfp/s320/IMG_0056.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home garden -- GKH CC*BY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I guess I got used to it. When I got home to Austin, my first morning in the garden astounded me with the variety and numbers of birds, squirrels, lizards, snakes and frogs I saw and heard within the first few hours of waking up! Critters were everywhere -- on the ground, in the trees, in the sky, at the feeders, on the bird baths. Unperturbed and raucous, they went about their business as though I weren't there. It was the best welcome home I could imagine! Well, that and the fact that Dennis had kept my garden alive and thriving, the feeders filled, and the bird baths clean and inviting the whole time I'd been gone. No wonder the critters were at home.<br />
<br />
I had to remind myself that these were the same birds, lizards and squirrels that I had been noting somewhat dismissively before I went to Boulder, as my usual yard inhabitants. What a difference a little perspective can make.Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-43879936443007146982011-07-23T13:18:00.002-05:002011-07-24T08:03:57.830-05:00Why Meditate?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUZQCrAT82DWpeofdHo-LWmcfjnX3RLxLuEb-9v7S0nfM-NFYL9dhic5MncoO6RkFcHP8VLL0YVG2lFvhj0Z6BFGrpuk6ie5DDOmUB5rePircMFhoKCNsBSDFkLMkQZWusaIB/s1600/balance+intellect+with+heart.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUZQCrAT82DWpeofdHo-LWmcfjnX3RLxLuEb-9v7S0nfM-NFYL9dhic5MncoO6RkFcHP8VLL0YVG2lFvhj0Z6BFGrpuk6ie5DDOmUB5rePircMFhoKCNsBSDFkLMkQZWusaIB/s320/balance+intellect+with+heart.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Center for Contemplative Mind in Society</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Morning and afternoon meditation were a constant in our lives at Naropa University this summer. Coming to this as I did from having meditated "off and on" for roughly 40 years, the regularity (in the past I might have said "rigidity") of the Naropa schedule was challenging at first. It quickly became a comfort, however, like a base, a simple practice to return to from wherever I went spinning off.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.shambhalasun.com/images/stories//AAAinteriorgrafixKEEP/meditator-lizamatthews-2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.shambhalasun.com/images/stories//AAAinteriorgrafixKEEP/meditator-lizamatthews-2010.jpg" width="130" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shambhala Sun, <br />
Sept. 2010</td></tr>
</tbody></table>One of our first readings was <a href="http://www.shambhalasun.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3575&Itemid=0">Matthieu Ricard's "Why Meditate?" (2010)</a>, which I read several times during the course of the semester, each time understanding it differently. By the end of the semester, I had come to appreciate meditation in a way I never had before. Ricard described its centrality with straightforward and powerful words: “If we want to observe the subtlest mechanisms of our mental functioning and have an effect on them, we absolutely must refine our powers of looking inward” and “… cultivate a way of being that is not subject to the patterns of habitual thinking” (pp. 41 and 86).<br />
<br />
More simply put, daily practice on the cushion is necessary to sharpen the ability to notice. And noticing is the foundation of all learning, insight and wisdom. So, for example, meditation helped me better notice myself reacting in habitual ways in day-to-day activities. I noticed my thoughts while washing the dishes. I saw subtle complaints, clinging to opinions, nostalgic reminiscing, and many others. This "just noticing" allows for questioning, looking deeper into those habitual thought patterns, for "just noticing" what hides beneath the surface of things that “get me,” or take me off to the past, or into the future.<br />
<br />
Refining my attention and practicing mindfulness enabled me to see that even within the impulse I have to help, to inform, to counsel and to solve problems (in other words, the impulse to teach and to counsel my clients) is a subtle aggression, a desire to make problems go away. This came as a real surprise. But noticing it allowed me to consider refining my approach to teaching and to counseling, to "cultivate a way of being that is not subject to the patterns of habitual thinking" (Ricard, 2010, p. 86). Sometimes problems will not go away...<br />
<br />
And Ricard pointed out something else just as foundational about meditation -- that while we can read the words of scholars and practitioners who have devoted their lives to “observing the automatic, mechanical patterns of thought and the nature of consciousness,” ... “we cannot merely rely on their words to free ourselves ... We must discover for ourselves the value of the methods these wise people taught and confirm for ourselves the conclusions they reached. This is not purely an intellectual process. Long study of our own experience is needed to rediscover their answers and integrate them into ourselves on a deep level” (pp. 86-87). In other words, you can't think your way to everything.<br />
<br />
My Naropa journal came to contain many examples of my noticing that it wasn't all about thinking, that things happened in the gap, in the space between thoughts, and while I wasn't thinking:<br />
<blockquote>I notice coincidence, repetition, and synergy here. For example, I hear "Heart Sutra" three times over the course of two days, so I Google, 'Heart Sutra commentary,' and up comes an <a href="http://www.westernchanfellowship.org/heart-sutra-commentary.html">amazing talk by Dr. John Crook</a>, whom I've never heard of, posted on a UK site called Western Chan Fellowship, equally unknown to me. I read a little and then I leave it alone. I read more and then I leave it alone. It takes two days to finish it. I don't think about it. I am very present while I am reading. I feel my breathing slowing down, I feel my shoulders relaxing, my back straightening, at times I feel filled with energy, other times I am more empty and open. Some of his words trigger memories. There is recognition at times. And then there is ‘I don’t know.’ Then there is Richard (our instructor) saying, "you have to find out what is there before you worry about the fact that it's not there.” The Heart Sutra is about not here, not there, not anywhere. I don't want to think about it, I just want to hear it. Today I heard (noticed) this:</blockquote><blockquote>‘The essential feature of this approach is to realize that it is based in meditation. Thought can raise innumerable objections and create endless metaphysical speculation. The Buddha is speaking out of his enlightenment. He is sharing it, transmitting it. To receive it one has to follow the same path’ (Crook, 1992, part 2, para. 13).</blockquote><blockquote>I can't think my way to this (Personal Journal Entry, July 9, 2011).</blockquote>Even more to the point:<br />
<blockquote>We repeated the same improv performances in Presence class today three times, focusing on the same element each time. I got bored (predictably). The third time, Lee (our instructor) added an audience, and suggested that "we" get out of the way this time ("I've done every thing I know how to do in this role with this element"). She was right. Wow.</blockquote><blockquote>The element was fire. I may have undervalued and diminished it's power in my life somehow. But it is there. My performance of fire came from somewhere other than thinking it up. Lee would say, it came from nothing, from space, from the ground. I discovered three things about fire by thoroughly being fire for that third time, for those six minutes.</blockquote><blockquote>1. It is explosive. It uses things up. It takes one thing, combines it with another, and transforms both through explosion. Nothing is the same after fire touches it. </blockquote><blockquote>2. It is passionate. It is heat, lust and desire. It consumes and exhausts in its uncontrolled raging energy. </blockquote><blockquote>3. But harnessed, it radiates warmth, life-giving energy and the spark that starts things growing and changing. </blockquote><blockquote>It relates the things it consumes to each other. It joins them in energetic exchange. Fire only exists through connections: fire connects the earth element of fuel and the heaven element of air. It is the dynamic connection between heaven and earth. Its hard to imagine that I am or even have that connection inside me. But I was fire today. I have fire and can call upon and use its energy (Personal Journal Entry, July 4, 2011).</blockquote>Given my careers in academe and in law, where logical thought is so highly valued, Crook's and Ricard's words, and my experiences with the Naropa summer learning intensive, are stunning confirmation of the importance of intuitive understanding. The Heart Sutra presents a very esoteric understanding of the nature of reality, and it’s pretty hard for me to grasp, but I'm convinced I won't get there by just thinking my way to it. “This approach is … <i>based in meditation</i>. <i>Thought</i> can raise <i>innumerable objections</i> and create <i>endless metaphysical speculation</i>..." (emphasis mine).<br />
<br />
Indeed.<br />
<br />
So, it's trusting more than just that part of my being that is analytical and strictly logical. It's about giving a say to Jill Bolte Taylor's, "Stroke of Insight." Theoretically, I get this. But where the rubber meets the road, it is not easy to trust beyond what you're comfortable trusting.<br />
<br />
That's when it's back to the basics. Seeing how dramatic a difference being present makes, and how effectively meditation is sharpening my ability to see things I simply have not seen any other way, I am <i>very</i> reassured. Maintaining a regular meditation practice is absolutely essential to this seeing. Trust in the process is essential.<br />
<br />
And today I read, by a sad coincidence perhaps, that <a href="http://sweepingzen.com/2011/07/21/dr-john-hurrell-crook-1930-to-2011/">Dr. John Crook died on Saturday</a>, the last day of our semester. I am learning to bow to and trust those who teach. They know what they're talking about.<br />
<br />
<b>References</b><br />
<div class="csl-bib-body" style="line-height: 2; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;"><div class="csl-entry">Crook, J. (1992, November). The heart sutra - A commentary - Dharma talk by John Crook. <i>Western Chan Fellowship</i>. Retrieved July 9, 2011, from <a href="http://www.westernchanfellowship.org/heart-sutra-commentary.html">http://www.westernchanfellowship.org/heart-sutra-commentary.html</a></div><div class="csl-entry">Ricard, M. (2010, September). Why meditate? (How to meditate). <i>Shambhala Sun</i>. Retrieved July 23, 2011, from <a href="http://www.shambhalasun.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3575&Itemid=0">http://www.shambhalasun.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3575&Itemid=0</a></div></div><div class="csl-bib-body" style="line-height: 2; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;"><div class="csl-entry">Taylor, J. B. (2006). <i>My stroke of insight: A brain scientist’s personal journey</i>. Lulu.com.</div><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1430300612&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=My%20Stroke%20of%20Insight%3A%20A%20Brain%20Scientist's%20Personal%20Journey&rft.publisher=Lulu.com&rft.aufirst=Jill%20Bolte&rft.aulast=Taylor&rft.au=Jill%20Bolte%20Taylor&rft.date=2006-11-01&rft.isbn=1430300612"> </span></div>Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-54906135335048734192011-07-20T21:22:00.002-05:002011-07-20T21:35:43.904-05:00Naropa summer learning intensive: Welcome to contemplative educationI had little on which to base any expectations about the Summer Learning Intensive, my introduction to Contemplative Education at Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado. I had the overall character of the schedule (from early in the morning until late into the night, 7 days a week, for 3 1/2 weeks); some summer readings (Turning the Mind into an Ally; Sacred World, and East Meets West, an essay about the formation of Naropa in the early 70's); and a basic understanding that the program enabled teachers and others to integrate mindfulness practices into their lives at work.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YDKU-_3col7hg7iUvt0QP11Ah9WegukPE3IoIzeid8lGSln8sJAqT78dBv1t8vWu4QDQSH_EEUH9SCIFPpB6d_xOMbUoktxsq68WoFTAkHvZ5PooS3prZ7AoJmVTMT1areQP/s1600/IMG_0801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YDKU-_3col7hg7iUvt0QP11Ah9WegukPE3IoIzeid8lGSln8sJAqT78dBv1t8vWu4QDQSH_EEUH9SCIFPpB6d_xOMbUoktxsq68WoFTAkHvZ5PooS3prZ7AoJmVTMT1areQP/s200/IMG_0801.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boulder Creek flooding<br />
from snow melt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Well, that just doesn't give you much to go on. So I just went. It was like stepping into a raging river.<br />
<br />
There's not much you can do but just hold on for the ride. And you're going to get bumped, scraped up, and if you're not careful, you'll drown. Assuming you survive, it's quite an experience.<br />
<br />
Thursday was the first full day and it was filled with orientations, introductions, getting settled in. Friday was my first immersion experience. I went under for the first time at Amy Howard's thesis project presentation.<br />
<blockquote><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJgJAnh5CX4Ya7EpJXYpKI1H3IIW6mdqgnGfKPbvaToFPQCwDmg0CrLAXmZg620JMmowC2R3o-YQlg0k0WKScysWbppiPsNWWbuBHbUwipB7SCv6ctJHv82jEcEjoxtfP6NbO/s1600/tradition.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJgJAnh5CX4Ya7EpJXYpKI1H3IIW6mdqgnGfKPbvaToFPQCwDmg0CrLAXmZg620JMmowC2R3o-YQlg0k0WKScysWbppiPsNWWbuBHbUwipB7SCv6ctJHv82jEcEjoxtfP6NbO/s200/tradition.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tradition; trust; natural loveliness<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></blockquote><blockquote>Amy's talk was about opening to being awake, and redefining the meaning of your life. She asked us to file by two long, low tables of nicely matted photographs and just notice each one. When we returned to our seats, she asked us to think about which one had appealed the most to us, moved us in some way. We returned to the tables, took the picture that had affected us the most, and returned to our seats. I chose the one to the left. She asked us to take a moment to reflect on and write about what about that photograph had affected us.</blockquote><blockquote>This image reflects qualities that I wish I had -- grace, strength, comfort in your own body, and a natural beauty that seems to come from a connection to something larger than yourself, in this photograph, a tradition that probably goes back many many years. And trusting in your larger community. My feeling was one of sadness. I often feel sad when I see something so achingly beautiful. It's like my heart just breaks open and sadness flows out. I have always wondered why this happens. Why doesn't love and beauty and grace and connection bring about joy, rather than sadness (Personal Journal Entry, June 23, 2011)?</blockquote><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFYpzbOw_kUMt_JMCsMfDjg1Ypg2AIrB1Up6EenP_e-gMIqRLCApKDQDbozIDeeIjEp0xeJm2JHx2aCmFeCC4c7S_F__wQqGt0oKRnT4SLpLcbBcKBIJuuxLeFvRXrWts5xCi/s1600/closed_enso_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFYpzbOw_kUMt_JMCsMfDjg1Ypg2AIrB1Up6EenP_e-gMIqRLCApKDQDbozIDeeIjEp0xeJm2JHx2aCmFeCC4c7S_F__wQqGt0oKRnT4SLpLcbBcKBIJuuxLeFvRXrWts5xCi/s200/closed_enso_2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Closed enso</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I didn't have to wait long to find the answer to that question, one that had puzzled me for decades. But before that question got its answer, Saturday came: Graduation for the outgoing class. The ceremony was stunning. Seven students in their turn, each creating an enso brushstroke, a circle representing everything, all at once. Poetry, storytelling, the ringing of the gong, tears and joy everywhere. This was no ordinary graduation ceremony.<br />
<blockquote>The ceremony completely exceeded even my wildest imagination of what it might be like to complete this program. The level of compassion, caring, love and commitment, support, energy and passion that everyone, everyone brings to this endeavor is simply unprecedented in my experience, anywhere, for anything. I can't believe I am sitting here, a part of this process. I know it's a university. I know there will be difficulty and adversity and frustration here and there. But that's true everywhere. This love and support is not everywhere. <i>That</i> I recognize. Never do the challenges end. You just meet them differently. <i>That</i> makes all the difference (Personal Journal Entry, June 25, 2011).</blockquote>Thus began my getting to know a part of myself that I had long ignored -- my heart. It wasn't a matter of "what's going on here," or "why," or of fixing anything. I just started to notice. That's all. The practice for noticing was, first and foremost, meditation. At Naropa, meditation is primarily Shamatha practice, or mindfulness of the breath. You simply, repeatedly, notice what comes up while you sit, and return to observing your breath: in.....out. Thoughts come up, you think them, you go off with them, you notice that you've gone off and you return to Shamatha. Twice each day, 50 minutes in the morning and evening.<br />
<br />
"And how might that help?" most everyone wonders.<br />
<blockquote>Shamatha is not an endurance test, nor will it suddenly solve all our problems. But it does help us see how our problems arise, because it trains us in recognizing thoughts and emotions. It also trains us in letting them pass without acting on them. Even when we’re bored, we can work with our minds. This helps us cope in daily life. Because practice has enlarged our perspective beyond identifying with our thoughts and opinions, we’re less likely to act from a tight, self-protected space. We have more patience, more tolerance. We’re more able to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes. In this way, meditation matures us (Mipham, 2003, p. 83).</blockquote>So meditation was the constant in our lives. Always there.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmRWTlHWPPGZTt0PFGoRHHdF5eE3LbtrRet3gLVtHQHG9rF_PgTtgCAccYRpg6AZvA9jtetkoFAVQ5HSDUavnWv2DkgNltf5ElViFw_dX2kqHqXHzPMoDnYe9yB6rBE_Dc-r7/s1600/IMG_0753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmRWTlHWPPGZTt0PFGoRHHdF5eE3LbtrRet3gLVtHQHG9rF_PgTtgCAccYRpg6AZvA9jtetkoFAVQ5HSDUavnWv2DkgNltf5ElViFw_dX2kqHqXHzPMoDnYe9yB6rBE_Dc-r7/s200/IMG_0753.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every morning on my<br />
way to class, I stopped by<br />
the raspberry bushes...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>But we also went to work that first week strengthening our practice of noticing through class activities of every kind. We explored our senses, our connection to the world, in fact, where we let the world in. We fine-tuned our ability to observe, and broadened it to include observing the observer, our feelings, our sensations, and our thoughts in response to what we saw, heard, felt, tasted and smelled out there.<br />
<br />
Then we studied conceptual approaches to characterizing emotions, and discussed and experienced the different patterns of responses within ourselves that each characterization evoked. For example, Welwood (1983) notes:<br />
<blockquote>In Western culture we have a history of treating emotions with suspicion and contempt, as alien, "other," separate from us. The "passions" have usually been viewed as our "lower nature," from Plato onward. Viewing the source of the passions as Freud did, as an "it" (translated in English as "id"), "a primitive chaos, a cauldron of seething excitement," makes it more difficult to befriend emotions and accept them as part of ourselves" (p. 80).</blockquote>Welwood (1983) goes on to contrast the Western view with the Buddhist meditative approach, "which considers that it is precisely our alienation from emotions that makes them become so domineering and uncontrollable" (p. 80). I'm quite familiar with the first approach, and quite ready to try something else. So I embraced the practice of staying present with feelings and emotions, befriending them, as Welwood describes it. In short order I began to see this practice as the life-preserver it was. It is what keeps us afloat in the stream. You always have it. You can always just become present with what you are experiencing. Becoming present means observing your felt senses (tightening in the chest, warmth in the throat, pressure or burning in the shoulders, or whatever you sense in your body), your feelings (fear, happiness), your emotions (magnified feelings) and your thoughts. Just see them, notice them all.<br />
<br />
Finally, we learned several key buddhist concepts describing the practice of integrating intellectual and intuitive understanding, with awareness of body, felt senses, and mind, to create insight and wisdom. We had been using this practice in our classes and as we prepared our assignments. It's called <i>prajna</i>. Judy Lief (2002) says of <i>prajna</i>,<br />
<blockquote>...as soon as you enter the Buddhist path and start practicing meditation and studying the dharma, you are picking up this sword of <i>prajna</i>. Now that you have this sharp thing, this sword that skewers and cuts through ego trips of all sorts, you have to deal with it (para. 9).</blockquote><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.goddessaday.com/images/Prajnaparamita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.goddessaday.com/images/Prajnaparamita.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prajnaparamita</td></tr>
</tbody></table><blockquote>Prajna is represented iconographically by the feminine deity Prajnaparamita ... with four arms. Two arms are folded on her lap in the classic posture of meditation, and her two other arms hold a sword and a book. Through these gestures, she manifests three aspects of prajna: academic knowledge, cutting through deception, and direct perception of emptiness" (para. 18).</blockquote>Leif (2002) says that we cultivate <i>prajna</i> through refined practices of hearing, contemplating, and meditating. We take what we read, listen to, discuss with others with an open mind; we analyze it, turn it over in our minds and look at it from every point of view we can, and then we sit with it for a time until it becomes something that we know deeply; finally, we live with it for awhile until it is part of our very being, no longer something that we must "recall."<br />
<br />
Our final week put all we had been studying, discussing, and practicing to the test in two performances: the Warrior's Exam for Mindful Teacher Class, and Final Performance for our Presence in Teaching Class.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://enlightenyourday.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/shambhala-rocks.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="http://enlightenyourday.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/shambhala-rocks.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shambhala rocks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Warrior's Exam is a form of traditional questioning. Each of the nine of us would have our turns seated on mediation cushions in the center of a circle of witnesses to be the questioner of a student, and the student who answered the question. We had ten questions to study. We would have five minutes to respond to our single question, without notes. After a brief follow-up question of the questioner's device, we would have 2 minutes to respond. Then we would return to our place as witnesses in the circle for the other students. So, each of the nine questions we would answer were drawn from a bowl, along with the names of the questioner and responder for that question.<br />
<br />
<i>Prajna</i> was perfect preparation for the exam: we had already heard, read and discussed, with our minds open and non-judging. We had had time to analyze and think about what we had read. We had begun to see how it applied to our own experiences, to begin to incorporate those parts of what we had heard that were meaningful, that were true, for us. And now we were ready to sit with it for awhile longer, to see what became part of us, our very marrow, because that is what was to be our response to our questions. Not a memorized script. Not a fainthearted attempt to explain. But what came from within us, from the place beyond "thinking it up."<br />
<br />
It was an exhilarating experience, for all of us. We did the absolute best we could, for all of us. It was the most extended period of time for which I have been present. Not 100%, of course, but for nearly 2 hours, I returned again and again to being there. For everyone. And they were there for me.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGIdeWpORpsz8afVujfxfUmqU6yhixAbummeDIXq_XSs7lr9H4TL2_pjkQnryLq8ELzXcO5sRmZNySuFiPAVvtmDZNKjRWJGcwi5KtrjedIq37jAEjPN46_QZPSDrYiOzE3-6-/s1600/HillyHillyTradesforHorse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGIdeWpORpsz8afVujfxfUmqU6yhixAbummeDIXq_XSs7lr9H4TL2_pjkQnryLq8ELzXcO5sRmZNySuFiPAVvtmDZNKjRWJGcwi5KtrjedIq37jAEjPN46_QZPSDrYiOzE3-6-/s200/HillyHillyTradesforHorse.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HillyHilly trades for a horse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Final Performance for Presence Class asked from our bodies that same experience of bringing forth form from space, the place beyond thinking. In other words, "let's do a play!" Being present in this context meant struggling with a predictable set of urges -- most notably the urge to run as far and as fast as I could up into the Rocky Mountain foothills. Once I committed to stay present instead of checking out, a myriad of other urges cropped up in the place of the big one. One by one, I faced them all down. I sang, I spoke, I waited for and gave cues, I played my parts, changing costumes, being conscious, taking and giving feedback, getting better each day, being there. I would have to say that I was there just about 100% of the time during the play. I could not let a stray thought take me off. There was absolutely no room for wandering. It was pretty cool.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_bX7zIK57kR6eypSWSpOezTR4tzeNwzJ2rpWQHH247ZF3tij-UFYXw_2DEszYmFBBPWlf0w5jLe_9le1RDUEH5LYzcit27cfUHkNOKJXiJExCx17f_PlFHKX6j9jLxy6dAvH/s1600/MMsingsHBtoCB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_bX7zIK57kR6eypSWSpOezTR4tzeNwzJ2rpWQHH247ZF3tij-UFYXw_2DEszYmFBBPWlf0w5jLe_9le1RDUEH5LYzcit27cfUHkNOKJXiJExCx17f_PlFHKX6j9jLxy6dAvH/s200/MMsingsHBtoCB.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MM sings HB to CB</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Our play was called, Meditation Self-Evaluation, and it presented a series of vignettes representing the thoughts that meditators have as they sit on the cushion, illustrating their successful efforts to let them go (short bursts of thoughts that wander in and easily leave, sometimes of their own accord), and their not so successful efforts (the longer vignettes that spin out a storyline or indulge the meditator in a fantasy): Like a memory of parents arguing; a breakup; a childhood morality tale; a student driver experience; and Marilyn Monroe singing "Happy Birthday" to the meditator.<br />
<br />
That one was my idea. So I played it. It was transformative. It brought up every fear, anxiety, and condemnation I could possibly harbor, and I faced them all. That's what in the Shambhala tradition they call being a warrior on this path. Never abandoning yourself.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4ls-82goR7vUKJbRllXvUtjE4vIn1q5yxNR7uxR3v4SEdQ1-rsu6NOyS6nmkAhM9We7mjpQNB2XnWooe-05bSE66RfMIPeUPkVBFMLj8r0dgTtI03NS6-pRMWks-vESQmbJ4/s1600/IMG_0803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4ls-82goR7vUKJbRllXvUtjE4vIn1q5yxNR7uxR3v4SEdQ1-rsu6NOyS6nmkAhM9We7mjpQNB2XnWooe-05bSE66RfMIPeUPkVBFMLj8r0dgTtI03NS6-pRMWks-vESQmbJ4/s320/IMG_0803.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas's photo of his summer family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So, it was amazing. Practically impossible to convey in a blog post, but making an effort is a good practice. It converted two dozen people from "strangers I've never seen or heard of before" to what one participant called his "summer family." Mine too. I have arrived. I am home (Hahn, 2009).<br />
<br />
I flew to my Austin home a day later, had Sunday to relax and readjust, and went to work on Monday. It's Wednesday now. Warrior's Exam was a week ago. I'm still impressed. This is just the first semester.<br />
<br />
<b>References</b><br />
<br />
<div class="csl-bib-body" style="line-height: 2; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;"><div class="csl-entry"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Hanh, T. N. (2009). <i>Happiness: Essential mindfulness practices</i>. Parallax Press.</span></div><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="csl-entry"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Hayward, K., & Hayward, J. (1998). <i>Sacred world: The Shambhala way to gentleness, bravery, and power</i> (2nd ed.). Shambhala.</span></span></div><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1570623619&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Sacred%20World%3A%20The%20Shambhala%20Way%20to%20Gentleness%2C%20Bravery%2C%20and%20Power&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.edition=2&rft.aufirst=Karen&rft.aulast=Hayward&rft.au=Karen%20Hayward&rft.au=Jeremy%20Hayward&rft.date=1998-12-01&rft.isbn=1570623619"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<div class="csl-entry"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1570623619&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Sacred%20World%3A%20The%20Shambhala%20Way%20to%20Gentleness%2C%20Bravery%2C%20and%20Power&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.edition=2&rft.aufirst=Karen&rft.aulast=Hayward&rft.au=Karen%20Hayward&rft.au=Jeremy%20Hayward&rft.date=1998-12-01&rft.isbn=1570623619"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Lief, J. (2002, May). The sharp sword of <i>prajna</i>. <i>Shambhala Sun</i>. Retrieved July 14, 2011, from http://www.shambhalasun.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1675&Itemid=0 </span></span></span></div><div class="csl-entry"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1570623619&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Sacred%20World%3A%20The%20Shambhala%20Way%20to%20Gentleness%2C%20Bravery%2C%20and%20Power&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.edition=2&rft.aufirst=Karen&rft.aulast=Hayward&rft.au=Karen%20Hayward&rft.au=Jeremy%20Hayward&rft.date=1998-12-01&rft.isbn=1570623619"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Mipham, S. (2003). <i>Turning the mind into an ally</i>. Riverhead Hardcover.</span></span></span></div><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1570623619&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Sacred%20World%3A%20The%20Shambhala%20Way%20to%20Gentleness%2C%20Bravery%2C%20and%20Power&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.edition=2&rft.aufirst=Karen&rft.aulast=Hayward&rft.au=Karen%20Hayward&rft.au=Jeremy%20Hayward&rft.date=1998-12-01&rft.isbn=1570623619"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1573222062&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Turning%20the%20Mind%20into%20an%20Ally&rft.publisher=Riverhead%20Hardcover&rft.aufirst=Sakyong&rft.aulast=Mipham&rft.au=Sakyong%20Mipham&rft.date=2003&rft.isbn=1573222062"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="csl-entry"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1570623619&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Sacred%20World%3A%20The%20Shambhala%20Way%20to%20Gentleness%2C%20Bravery%2C%20and%20Power&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.edition=2&rft.aufirst=Karen&rft.aulast=Hayward&rft.au=Karen%20Hayward&rft.au=Jeremy%20Hayward&rft.date=1998-12-01&rft.isbn=1570623619"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1573222062&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Turning%20the%20Mind%20into%20an%20Ally&rft.publisher=Riverhead%20Hardcover&rft.aufirst=Sakyong&rft.aulast=Mipham&rft.au=Sakyong%20Mipham&rft.date=2003&rft.isbn=1573222062"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Welwood, J. (1983). Befriending emotions. <i>Awakening the heart</i> (First Edition.). Shambhala.</span></span></span></span></div><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1888375914&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Happiness%3A%20Essential%20Mindfulness%20Practices&rft.publisher=Parallax%20Press&rft.aufirst=Thich%20Nhat&rft.aulast=Hanh&rft.au=Thich%20Nhat%20Hanh&rft.date=2009-07-21&rft.isbn=1888375914"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1570623619&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Sacred%20World%3A%20The%20Shambhala%20Way%20to%20Gentleness%2C%20Bravery%2C%20and%20Power&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.edition=2&rft.aufirst=Karen&rft.aulast=Hayward&rft.au=Karen%20Hayward&rft.au=Jeremy%20Hayward&rft.date=1998-12-01&rft.isbn=1570623619"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A1573222062&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=book&rft.btitle=Turning%20the%20Mind%20into%20an%20Ally&rft.publisher=Riverhead%20Hardcover&rft.aufirst=Sakyong&rft.aulast=Mipham&rft.au=Sakyong%20Mipham&rft.date=2003&rft.isbn=1573222062"><span class="Z3988" title="url_ver=Z39.88-2004&ctx_ver=Z39.88-2004&rfr_id=info%3Asid%2Fzotero.org%3A2&rft_id=urn%3Aisbn%3A0394721829&rft_val_fmt=info%3Aofi%2Ffmt%3Akev%3Amtx%3Abook&rft.genre=bookitem&rft.atitle=Befriending%20Emotions&rft.publisher=Shambhala&rft.edition=First%20Edition&rft.aufirst=John&rft.aulast=Welwood&rft.au=John%20Welwood&rft.date=1983-11-12&rft.isbn=0394721829"> </span></span></span></span></div>Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-46641728054783509132011-05-24T12:40:00.000-05:002011-05-24T12:40:22.937-05:00Spring migration<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9brEjm8mLL2bhFP9K5quf4X0-OYLO4PH3exHWgIS7A5W7YtgM5DfSY5wMFXo5MKiJTieuUPg_D2tlF0OJ24crLNnMWbL7Al1pl9VukVAKKM6m_KjtBgwp5RHz1scuJza2BYjB/s1600/Migrating+storks+by+David+King.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9brEjm8mLL2bhFP9K5quf4X0-OYLO4PH3exHWgIS7A5W7YtgM5DfSY5wMFXo5MKiJTieuUPg_D2tlF0OJ24crLNnMWbL7Al1pl9VukVAKKM6m_KjtBgwp5RHz1scuJza2BYjB/s320/Migrating+storks+by+David+King.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Migrating Storks, by David King. CC*BY</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Every year, about the middle of April, spring migration reaches a crescendo of species and numbers on the move. Birders get pretty busy too. Watching wildlife in beautiful places is a great way to spend April, much better than stressing out about end of semester papers, grades, and life transitions. I've done both, and believe me, it's no contest.<br />
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So, this year I met up with a friend from Seattle, and visited my favorite spring birding mecca, Southeast Arizona, then drove out to West Texas with birding buddies for a week that ended with a couple of days in Big Bend. And there were local trips to see Golden-cheeked warblers, participate in breeding bird surveys, and take friends' grandkids to state parks. Plus, there's always backyard birding. All kinds of surprises show up this time of year, along with the summer residents who've been wintering down south.<br />
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Having just finished up the beta test of my Zen Birding course, all this spring birding that is, by nature, quite focused on identification, presented an interesting challenge. It took me completely in the opposite direction. In Zen Birding, the challenge is to just be with the birds or whatever else I might be seeing and hearing (that is, to continually return the mind from its chattering about wing bars and eye rings, to simply being present and wordlessly observing). During these spring migration birding trips, the challenge is to bring every skill and ability I have to bear on the question of "what was that?"<br />
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Turns out that having two seemingly opposing objectives at the same time is, itself, very much a part of Buddhist seeing and understanding the nature of existence. After all, the <i>sine qua non</i> of insight is that everything is empty of self, and is, instead, a part of everything else. And yet, the experience of self is, well, pretty hard to just set aside. We experience ourselves as selves. We might be mistaken on some level, but in the everyday world we live in things are, as a practical matter, separated from other things in time and space. You and I are not the same thing.<br />
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Evidence of this seeming contradiction presents itself constantly, once you recognize that it exists and can't be dismissed. The question becomes, "how do I touch each understanding lightly enough that I can move easily from one to the other, as life requires?"<br />
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I am continually reminded of the Buddha's response to the first person he met on the path after he experienced enlightenment, about which I have blogged before -- the interchange in short was: "how did you wake up" -- Buddha drops his bag; "what will you do now" -- he picks the bag back up again and goes off on his way.<br />
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It's not that we don't or can't have things, but that we must be able to let them go, to drop them. But life requires that we get from here to there and take our things with us. We must do both.<br />
<br />
So, during birding to identify, I was present, I was the birder who knew the names (often enough). But I wanted to be able to drop it instantly. And I wanted to be aware of what I was doing regardless of which approach I took. Because I will forget some day which bird is which, I must be able to let go of the bag in which I define myself as a good birder. I have a preference for the comfort of knowing who I am, but I have to be able to let it go to see what else I might be.<br />
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Maybe I am at least a little bit like the birds that probably love the warm south, but let it go to take up epic journeys across thousands of miles to arrive (many, but not all of them) here in North America, where folks like me celebrate their arrival by being here with them.Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33855340.post-45109787190369684662011-03-23T12:47:00.000-05:002011-03-23T12:47:32.831-05:00Watching the Wheels Go 'Round and 'Round<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-1Lf3h7Ocx_9c7R-sgY6O1KNfmep5NPDvtvpWZiKNHRH4ax8UsHhXUfoZaVgkuiLQZiR9Dx5bdT1LaUM4lsUef2c1llvAHZrMjXdejUz2v8BbRhmaIymguTS2ilodq1F9a92/s1600/Garden+Summer+07019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-1Lf3h7Ocx_9c7R-sgY6O1KNfmep5NPDvtvpWZiKNHRH4ax8UsHhXUfoZaVgkuiLQZiR9Dx5bdT1LaUM4lsUef2c1llvAHZrMjXdejUz2v8BbRhmaIymguTS2ilodq1F9a92/s200/Garden+Summer+07019.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>A sunny Wednesday morning in Austin, Texas. Birds are singing, dozens of kinds of flowers blooming in the garden, the doors open, the air fresh and sweet with the scent of Mountain Laurel. And just a few centimeters below the flowers blooming in the beds is rich and rotting compost, dead leaves and insects and molds, all thriving. Ah, life. What we call the good and the bad, it all keeps keeping on.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kl8DZJ7QTVqKxs4zVDD7x397ZoiYgJ9v0rgZWxTEKCAHR3rV9GW5h1v83i-pm8KiZN4oT0mpjLX0G1kIcF6QXag0LIS8_LkZdsZHuMaA0Mb9VYUmHsyGtQ9uOd20PQGNw-Pm/s1600/Google_booksearch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7kl8DZJ7QTVqKxs4zVDD7x397ZoiYgJ9v0rgZWxTEKCAHR3rV9GW5h1v83i-pm8KiZN4oT0mpjLX0G1kIcF6QXag0LIS8_LkZdsZHuMaA0Mb9VYUmHsyGtQ9uOd20PQGNw-Pm/s200/Google_booksearch.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>It's the same eternal keeping on of the Google Book Search project. It has its blooms and sweet breezes and its rot. The cycles seem longer and slower than my garden's, but things do roll around. Another one rolled around yesterday. The NY district court rejected the parties' settlement agreement. A limb got blown off a tree, so to speak. Everyone's talking about whether to let it lie, pick it up and maybe prune it a bit and root it, or just cut the whole tree down. But there's rejoicing that at least something happened. We are so impatient for the next phase. Even though it's never the end of anything, just another step down the path of ... keeping on keeping on.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcWXvpCPDgt9zd4yMGSdccHdHVhVuIOMfQiOAGdQUgNloi5RSqdwAQisw2j_dkIRI0IsnlB1EGoz2O_sOLFZIRZKwUcxjKyJgk7IKMfifP-OvCZn-MiblxP5f2pBvfMTH8RP4/s1600/jobscommencement.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcWXvpCPDgt9zd4yMGSdccHdHVhVuIOMfQiOAGdQUgNloi5RSqdwAQisw2j_dkIRI0IsnlB1EGoz2O_sOLFZIRZKwUcxjKyJgk7IKMfifP-OvCZn-MiblxP5f2pBvfMTH8RP4/s200/jobscommencement.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>I read the court opinion rejecting the settlement. I get it. Perhaps because I don't fear Google (all companies have their trajectory, up -- and down), or the processes that allow companies and individuals in them to test the limits of what's possible, and to succeed and to <i>fail</i>, my main reaction was simply recalling Steve Jobs' commencement speech to Stanford grads about 6 years ago, when he used the rejections he'd received in his own life to make the point that bad things aren't necessarily bad. What may seem bad to us can make things turn a different way, and we find something that we never would have found if we hadn't had the bad turn of events making it impossible for us to do what we thought we should do. Jobs strongly urged the grads not to give up, ever, on what they believed in, even if it was not "working," in that others rejected it. Maybe that's what's going on with copyright these days. Many people believe in ideas that others keep rejecting. But the believers keep turning away from the rejections, the failures, and trying other paths, even though it just doesn't seem to ever work. Actually, you might apply this theory to either side's efforts, and it seems to hold true. Things keep breaking, one way or the other, now good for one side, now bad, over and over.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2U21Zkk3KUkXcbQk7FL9GEPsQGfzN0DeGCOpNCQpXomI02P9kb0dy2AWGIV5IYmURB9OW03G6Z0xyE2WsVXEojlVLrneZNftgOaOTjYa4Q0dAgNW8Cx8IQmwAf2ojkb5SGRbd/s1600/cclogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2U21Zkk3KUkXcbQk7FL9GEPsQGfzN0DeGCOpNCQpXomI02P9kb0dy2AWGIV5IYmURB9OW03G6Z0xyE2WsVXEojlVLrneZNftgOaOTjYa4Q0dAgNW8Cx8IQmwAf2ojkb5SGRbd/s200/cclogo.jpg" width="200" /></a>In truth, it is not an all or nothing thing. Jobs does what he does in a world where many people still vehemently reject him and his ideas. But he found a path where he can do it. And we are fortunate to live in a world that allows him to be creative, along side those who disagree and create what they want too. Something like that might happen with copyright too. Creative Commons is a good example. It exists as a result of the failure of efforts to change copyright law through legislative and judicial channels. The architect of the effort that failed didn't give up; he just invented another way. And copyright law didn't change. People just have an easy way to exercise their choice now, to keep for themselves exclusively only a subset of the whole bundle of rights.<br />
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So, will the orphans just have to be lost -- a century's worth of works that no one will ever feel safe using? I really doubt that. There is a way. No one has invented it yet, that's all. But I won't be surprised if it's not what anyone is imagining today. Things have a way of taking very strange and wonderful turns. Even if they seem bad at some point along that way.Georgia Harperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09291097487039349747noreply@blogger.com0