Sacred Space: Basilica of Agony

The Basilica of the Agony, photograph by Hans Mast

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed long into the night. The Basilica of the Agony is built at the foot of the Mount of Olives, near this garden. I like it that there is a church to mark Jesus' dark night.

Samsara

Samsara wheel

Friends, I've been crying a lot over the news. The killing of twenty children is too much to bear, and the suffering of the killer is tragic as well. 

I know our civilization can be better than this, that we can give love and help to those who need it, that we can keep weapons out of the hands of the unwise. But I also know that no matter what we do, there will always be suffering. I have no uplifting message today; just the dull truth that there is so much joy and so much pain in this world.

May all beings be at peace.

Food for the Soul: Stew Deep and Dark

Moonlight in a Forest. Winter, by Arkhip Kuindzhi

As days grow darker, I start looking forward to rich, slow foods like beef stew. These meals remind me to sit with what is potential for a while, to watch as meat breaks down and flavors meld, rather than to expect completion in a flash of a pan.

Start by browning some beef chuck in a large dutch oven, and then remove it from the heat. Add some sliced onions, then some garlic. Then a generous amount of red wine and tomato paste, and once everything is combined and warm, transfer this mixture, plus meat to the slow cooker for 6 hours on low.

The last, and most important step is to add all the magical spices that make this stew special: bay leaf, paprika, marjoram, cumin, lemon zest. (Just typing those beautiful words makes me happy.)

I think we served this over egg noodles last time, but you could also just soak up the juices with crusty bread. This beef goulash is a summary of the one found in Michele Scicolone's Italian Slow Cooker. You should check this book out. 

When you sit down to eat your stew, give thanks for the many forms of life that went into it. Ponder where that life has gone, and what you will do with the energy you receive. If you find yourself exploring your own dark spaces during these dark days, I hope this food will give you some comfort and nourishment along your journey.

Food for the Soul: Roasted Beets

Beetroot, by Maria Livings and Marie Rodgers of Lush Designs

Let's celebrate autumn with the vegetable that is surely the juiciest, most autumnal root—the beet!

"The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies."

    —Jitterbug Perfume, by Tom Robbins

Beets aren't the friendliest things to cook, but you can be rewarded with candy-flavored little jewels of food if you're willing to put into some slicing and roasting time. 

Slice them up (wear an apron but enjoy the way your hands turn a lovely hot pink color). Toss in a few sliced carrots and let them get a little pink, too. Sprinkle some rosemary over beets and carrots. Roast at 400 or 425 until they're tender—about 45 minutes. 

You can make salads with roasted beets (red cabbage, walnut, red apples, and red wine vinegar is a good one), but after waiting for them to roast, I'm usually to impatient to do anything but eat them! Try roasting them at the same time as you roast a chicken.

Remember to save your beet greens, too, for a light reminder of the end of summer. If you have a juicer, the beet greens make a lovely pink foam for the top of your orange-carrot juice.

Bringing Forth What Is Within

via Vintage Fan Girl

Elaine Pagels has been making the rounds to publicize her latest book on the Book of Revelation, and in listening to and reading some of her interviews, I've been reminded of her past work with gnostic texts. One of her favorite passages from the Gospel of Thomas is also one of my favorites:

"If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you."

How's that for a short Easter message? What a beautiful celebration and affirmation of life! The message fits with so many philosophies that inspire me. Allow what's within you, whether it's shadowy or angelic, to be integrated within you, and you will be reborn, and you will see the world with new eyes.

Viking Compass

The Viking compass, sunstone, or Vegvísir was supposedly a magical bit of technology that allowed sailors (or pillagers, depending on how you want to write history) to find their way even on foggy days, when the sun was hidden. Visit Pantheon for a nice historical summary of the Viking compass. 

Regardless of the Vikings' behavior, you have to admit, they were brave, sailing around in the fog and the cold. It takes courage to follow a little compass when there's nothing but water around you and you have no view of the sky above. 

I think the Vegvísir a beautiful symbol of the philosopher's stone, which I would say is a beautiful symbol for something else. (But what that is, I'm not saying.) Visit Jeff League, who seems to get the connection, for some beautiful art featuring antique maps and encaustic painting. 

Alchemy of Sleep

Alchemy of Sleep, by Brad Kunkle

"The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach."

    —The Meaning of Pscyhology for Modern Man, Carl Jung

I've had the pleasure of visiting a child care center at nap time and getting to listen to a dozen little bodies breathing while they dream and sleep. Hearing them sleep so soundly was a good reminder of how restorative a good sleep can be. When I have a good sleep, it really does become spiritual experience.

How early can you get to bed tonight? Good travels to the "primeval cosmic night" await.

Dancing with the Water

Behind the Surface, by Nadaia Moro
via trendland

I've been having lots of watery dreams lately, so these pictures by Nadia Moro really speak to me. In my dream space, water brings non-differentiation and returns what's not important to prima materia. 

If water dissolves the irrelevant, the key to living joyfully is to identify with what is lasting. (Not that I'm saying what that is.) 

After this dissolution comes the dance. Recognize you're part of something powerfully creative and join in its creative song.

Destino

A collaboration between Dali and Disney, which I find incredibly beautiful.

The original collaboration was completed in 2003, after Disney's nephew found the storyboards and 17-second clip and saw the project through to completion. It received an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Short Film.

Song of the Day: In Praise of Tears

I went to a great concert at a local college last week, with all music by Franz Lizst. He arranged some beautiful music for the piano. (If you've ever watched Tom & Jerry, you've probably heard one of his arrangements.) One of the most beautiful pieces of the evening was Lizst's arrangement of a Schubert song. 

This recording is of Schubert's original voice and piano arrangement, but with just the first two stanzas. It's all I could find.

What I love about the song is the wistful, high piano notes, which seem to evoke tears pretty well. I also love  the message, because while it partakes of some senses-versus-soul dualism, it's true that tears can be magically unifying. Recognizing our tender disappointments connects us with every other living thing.

And, perhaps most of all, I love the general Romantic, slightly overwrought tone of the piece. Was this the eighteenth-century version of Bright Eyes?

Laue Lüfte, Blumendüfte, Alle Lenz- und Jugendlust, Frischer Lippen Küsse nippen, Sanft gewiegt an zarter Brust; Dann der Trauben Nektar rauben, Reihentanz und Spiel und Scherz: Was die Sinnen Nur gewinnen: Ach, erfüllt es je das Herz? Wenn die feuchten Augen leuchten Von der Wehmut lindem Tau, Dann entsiegelt, Drin gespiegelt, Sich dem Blick die Himmels-Au. Wie erquicklich Augenblicklich Löscht es jede wilde Glut; Wie vom Regen  Blumen pflegen, Hebet sich der matte Mut. Nicht mit süßen Wasserflüßen Zwang Prometheus unsern Leim. Nein, mit Tränen; Drum im Sehnen Und im Schmerz sind wir daheim. Bitter schwellen Diese Quellen Für den erdumfangnen Sinn, Doch sie drängen  Aus den Engen In das Meer der Liebe hin. Ew'ges Sehnen Floß in Tränen, Und umgab die starre Welt, Die in Armen Sein Erbarmen Immerdar umflutend hält. Soll dein Wesen Denn genesen, Von dem Erdenstaube los, Mußt im Weinen Dich vereinen Jener Wasser heil'gem Schooß.

Brisk winds, Scent of flowers, All Spring and youthful joy, Fresh lips Stolen kisses,  softly pressed on tender breast; Then the grape's nectar stolen, Round dances and games and jokes: Whatever the senses can achieve: Ah, does it ever fulfil the heart? When the moist eyes shine from the dew of melancholy limes, then unsealed, therein mirrored, the sight of Heaven's meadow. Then suddenly in the twinkling of an eye every wild gleam is extinguished; as from the rain flowers are nurtured, dull spirits are raised. Not with sweet floods of water did Prometheus mix our lime. No, with tears; Thereby in longing and in pain have we come home. A bitter threshold these springs for the birth of our earthly senses, as they pressed out of the narrows into the sea of life. Eternal yearnings float in tears and surround the stark world, In their arms it's salvation they evermore uphold. Shall your nature then be purged free from the dross of Earth, You must in weeping unite yourself with yonder water's holy shoots.

Lyrics via the Lied, Art Song, and Choral Texts Archive

Thunder Silence

I learned a new word in Japanese: mokurai (黙雷), which is translated as "thunder silence."

Being a quiet person, I love this word, because I feel how active and charged silences can be. Sometimes there's too much to say, and sometimes the other person needs compassionate silence more than words, anyway.

"We can make our minds so like still water that beings gather about us that they may see, it may be, their own images, and so live for a moment with a clearer, perhaps even with a fiercer life because of our quiet."

    —"Earth, Fire and Water" from The Celtic Twilight (1893), by William Butler Yeats

Winds from the East, by Stephen Beadles
via Selah, Selah

Whooo are youuu?

The caterpillar asks Alice, "Who are you?"
Alice and the Caterpillar, by the Emily Martin, aka the Black Apple

I came across a lovely article by Anne Lamotte on Oprah's website (via Medicinal Marzipan).

I love that Anne describes the process of coming to live authentically as an often messy, embarrassing, painful process. Because if you're really wanting to see transformation, it's going to take courage.

Alice and the Piglet, by Emily Martin

The Mad Tea Party, by Emily Martin

Read the whole article; it's so worth it! And then ponder the last two sentences with me, because they're too poetic to not become a sort of mantra:

"To love yourself as you are is a miracle, and to seek yourself is to have found yourself, for now. And now is all we have, and love is who we are."

Still Life with Live Flowers, by Emily Martin

Flowers and Skulls

What is it about the juxtaposition of flowers and skulls that's so engaging and haunting?

"Life is short; even the most beautiful of creations will die"—this is what I hear these compositions say.

Antler no. 6986, by Kari Herer

"Even the most delicate of creations has a surprising strength and resilience."

Antler Drawing and Flower Photograph 4226, by Keri Herer,
via decor8 and going home to roost

Of course, Georgia O'Keefe, the great artist of New Mexico, is famous for these themes.

Ram's Head, White Hollyhock, and Little Hills, by Georgia O'Keefe,
via this mama makes stuff

Summer Days, by Georgia O'Keefe
via endless me

Love for the Darkness

Towards the forest II, Edvard Munch

"I love the dark hours of my being
in which my senses drop into the deep.
I have found in them, as in old letters,
my private life, that is already lived through,
and become wide and powerful now, like legends.
Then I know that there is room in me
for a second huge and timeless life."
     —Rainer Maria Rilke, from A Book for the Hours in Prayer, trans. Robert Bly


Sometimes dark hours literally come in the dark of night, but being a night owl, I find those hours can be really productive if I use them gently and quietly.