By the Light of the Silvery Sun

Normally, this would be my last post of the summer series. But I got a late start and so there are about three weeks to go. One of the reasons I choose the summer for this writing is my work schedule is usually lighter. So it's going to be a good writing experiment to do this daily practice when there is more demand on my time, and on me. It's also going to be interesting to see how I fare in the last three weeks of three months in the Green Wilderness. 

I've been on vacation for a week, with complete freedom around eating since I'm at the beach house with a kitchen and grocery stores easily available. My time has been completely unstructured and there've been no demands on me. In October when I'm traveling out of the country, it will be a lot more interesting to consider food choices and to discover what might be available and what might not be.

I've been far from perfect this week, but pretty good all things considered. I've had a little sugar, a few drinks, a tiny bit of dairy and gluten/grains. But just a little of all that. I've definitely felt it in my level of well-being. That feeling of vibrant good health is not quite on track when I make food choices that are non-supportive. Some of that looks like low energy, congestion, trouble sleeping. 

I've prepared most of my meals and have eaten out only four times, so far. I think it's helped that I've also been doing a two-week online coaching program in emotional eating. The extra support, accountability, and awareness have been helpful. I've also learned a few things. Actually, there have been some stunning insights. I love that I can still learn things about myself in my 60s.

The light yesterday was a study in contradiction, the sky was as changeable as I've seen it. I was up at the beach for a few hours in the morning. The light and everything around me appeared silver. I took a photo and questioned whether I'd somehow set the camera on black and white. A few hours later the skies and light were a jumble of blue and white and golden. The sky was afire with deep pink and purple at sunset, and the rising blue moon slipped in and out of the clouds reflecting the deep pink of the evening sky before settling into gold and then a pearlescent white. I never caught a glimpse of the whole moon all at once. I'm hoping for clear skies tonight. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

Once In a Blue Moon

This evening's blue moon mostly hid behind a thick layer of cloud. Every now and then I could see a slice of her deep pink deliciousness as she rose over a silvery Atlantic Ocean. The sunset in the west was brilliant, with deep pink and purple skies. The moon, of course, reflected these colors in her rising, and I wished that the thick layer of cloud would have dispersed. I am grateful, though, that I was given glimpses.

The moon is near perigee, so she's a super moon, appearing larger than she usually does. Somehow, even with the thick cloud layer, her reflected light shimmers on the water. I sat outside on the beach and watched for about an hour, catching glimpses here and there as she continued to rise and pick up different colors to reflect, leaving the deep pink and picking up golden raiment. 

There also were no-see-ums out, and I'd have liked to have stayed longer, but got the distinct feeling that I was being served for dinner. 

It was a surprising day, and most of it was clear with blue skies and sunshine. The forecast was for cloud and rain today, but I suppose the trajectory of the hurricane south of us changed and we benefitted from the change in course that took it way out into the Atlantic. I'll take it. I may get a few more sunny days before I have to go home on Saturday. I'm stretching it out as long as I can.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

A glimpse of the moon above the water, just above and to the left of the pesky ship in all my camera shots.

Behind the Clouds

It's the second of three consecutive rain days forecast here at the beach. There are rip tide warnings and warnings for mild coastal flooding between six and 12 tonight. Behind all those clouds, there's almost a full moon. And some sunshine as well.

I happened to look ahead to next week and noticed that from Saturday (this week) on, the weather is expected to be sunny, cooler in the 70s, and dry. For at least a week. I laugh as I think I picked the wrong week of my two weeks of vacation to be at the beach. I think about Murphy's Law ~ anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. According to that, there might never be good weather at the beach. But then there's the sometime addition to the law . . . and at the worst possible time. 

So, you always get into the wrong line at the store. Your week at the beach is the one with the rain, or the hurricane. Still. The beach is a beautiful place to be. Any time.

And I've come to read, so I can do that indoors as well as out on the beach. I had been hoping to get a little sun and color but I'm happy to be away, and to hear the ocean outside the window. It's even louder than usual because of the weather. So, there's that.

I'd planned to extend my stay a few days to enjoy the sun when it comes back, but that keeps getting pushed. The sun, not my stay. I'll stay as long as I can, which right now is til Saturday. Charlie and I are taking a fun mini trip by train on Monday and Tuesday to explore New Haven. Connecticut. There's some coastline there as well. And pizza.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

In and Out

The first of three rainy days at the beach. I had a massage scheduled and drove into town about an hour before to make sure I could find parking and have a relaxed arrival. This day spa is popular, and I've been trying to get an appointment at this place for two years, so I was glad to finally be able to book a treatment.

There are all kinds of tempting goodies for sale. All those products coming together in one small space produces a smell you can't buy, but wish you could. I used to get a similar feeling in the artisanal soap department in Whole Foods.

The 90 minute treatment in a dark room with dark sheets on the massage table led me into deep relaxation, and I honestly don't know how she got my body to stop hurting because she worked with barely any pressure. A bit like magic, it was.

I walked around town, popped into a few stores, browsed a bookstore and decided to pass on the new release I've been wanting to buy and read. I have such a stack of unread books at home already that I think I'll wait til it comes out in paperback. I finished David Baldacci and have moved on to Elizabeth Peters. It's my first time reading her. I found the book on a bookshelf in the basement at Mom's. I have a feeling I will want more.

I stopped to pick up some salt water taffy and a small piece of fudge from Dolle's. It's an institution in Rehoboth Beach. I did not see the Bidens. 

It rained lightly the whole time I was walking around. I would have walked the whole boardwalk but I settled for the end of it. Or the beginning. Which is in the middle.

I don't have a lot of tolerance for discomfort these days, or I'd have walked around more and taken advantage of the last hour on my meter. But, honestly, I just wanted to get back to the beach house and burrow into my book. I've given myself an entire week to read and I step away from it only grudgingly. Well, that's not completely true. I happily met some old friends yesterday for lunch and I felt so good about going out when I got back, that I went back out and took myself to dinner. Roasted oysters, soft-shelled crab, key lime pie. Delicious.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

. 

 

Pretty in Pink

The evening sky 

Arrays in pink

After a deeper, brilliant ball of fire 

Sinks

Slowly

Into the bay

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

White Lady

At the beach I wear either billowy soft white or light blue denim. It's my thing. Today I wore both. Denim during the day and white for my evening walk to the beach to be with the sinking sun and sunset.

I still favor the jeans and peasant tops of my youth, the gauzier the better. And, what one of the kids in my youth group in Wilmington called my "flowy clothes." The closet is a sea of blue and white. 

I notice I still love the light pinks for my cheeks and lips. I spent some time in my 20s in reds, my 30s in light brick colors, my 40s in neutral soft reds, my 50s saw the return to my 20s and then my teen preferences. Maybe I'm aging backwards.

Beach waves twist themselves into my white and silver hair.

It was a day of sinking more deeply into peace, softness, and relaxation. A quiet day spent reading, taking walks, and watching the moon's blue and white dance with the late afternoon sky. I talked to my brother in the afternoon, and will return the call of a friend later. I like being quiet when I can. I like days and days of quiet. I emerge feeling grounded and wise.

Walking back from the beach in the lessening light and the growing dark, I notice the songs of cicadas, loud and raucous. Now, I notice they are still there, but are more subdued. Softer. It's just after 8 and it's already dark. Only two months ago, there would have been almost an hour more of daylight and its residue after sundown.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Sleeping In

The beauty of time off with absolutely no agenda, except rest, is the body can do what the body needs to do.

Today I did not stir before 10 a.m. When I get out of balance, sleep suffers and the sounds of insect song and the whispering surf is soporific. And it worked on me all day. Whether I was on the beach or in the yard or in the house, my breathing slowed and deepened, and I could swear my blood moved with the tide.

Food was simple. I made some basmati rice to have with the last of the leftovers from Wednesday and a little cut up avocado. The avocado was left over from my late morning green smoothie. I'm adding fruit this week. Dinner was a salad with chicken left over from last night. There were also artichoke hearts and pine nuts. A nice, light vinaigrette ~ all paired with the roasted red pepper soup I made this afternoon. I followed that with a little bit of coconut yogurt and some cacao-cayenne Paleo granola I found at the store today when I went out for water and carrots. Forgot the carrots (for the soup) yesterday when I did the main shopping for my trip. I found another fun foodie treasure while I was out. Honeysuckle honey, raw and local. I've never had that before, but honeysuckle is the fragrance I love most about summer, besides peaches.

I spent some time reading today ~ on the couch, in the yard on the chaise, up at the beach on the bench. I'll spend more time with David Baldacci, Shaw, and Anna Fischer this evening. Before and after a bath with Epsom salts. A rare treat for me after my landlady removed the tub and replaced it with a large shower. Boy do I miss nightly baths. The tubs here are long, wide, and deep. Perfect for soaking. The magnesium works on my aches, and has a little something to say to my mental exhaustion too. 

The moon was out this evening when I took a walk after dinner. Waxing gibbous. There will be a full moon next week. I think I may stay for that.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

 

Scramble Ramble

The day spun round like a gyroscope.

I've just finished dinner and am taking a little breather with the keyboard. Tapping out a few impressions of the day. 

I was oddly on-time with managing all the different pieces. Morning journal. Grocery shopping at three stores. Packing food, clothes, books, journals, and anything else I thought I might want or need. Of course, I overpacked. But not as much as I could have. 

The drive to the beach house was oddly simple and clear. Only a few spots where volume and roads coming together slowed things a bit. And, of course, the run down the Coastal Highway. That usually slows in the section that has a lot of traffic lights. 

It rained as I arrived. I drove around a little because I did not want to unload the car in the rain. There was about a 20 minute break in the rain before the downpour came. A few hours later, another break let me walk up to the beach for a quick look. I came back and made dinner, glad I'd brought food or I might have gone out to eat. Instead, roasted veg and chicken thighs. A nice salad. Dinner was the most settled part of the day.

I'm tired, and just want to stay put.

I was so focused on getting out of town I forgot to eat. Or make a green smoothie for the road. So, at the store I hit before getting on the highway, I picked up a little tub of store-made chicken salad. The chicken was not pastured and the mayo probably had industrial oil, but it was light on mayo and oddly yummy. Best of all, it was not the fast food I thought I might have to pick up along the three hour drive. 

Songs of insects harmonize with the percussive surf. I've got the window open so I can hear them. There's not the sound of a car to be heard. I'm looking forward to being lulled to sleep by the susurration of surf and insect song.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Sun's Down

It's the first day of this summer writing practice that I've gotten near the end of the evening without having written. A busy day that I woke late upon. Worked all morning. Ran from here to there. A break in the middle for a beautiful lunch at a fun restaurant in Philly with my son. Rushed back home, got a quick pedicure for the beach trip, headed out to lead the last of the midweek evening outdoor summertime services for my church. They happen once an month, and I'd have been on vacation for three days, but for the service. Getting ready for a big exhale after I send a few more emails. 

Then I can pack.

I have a list. I don't trust myself to remember everything otherwise. I'll still probably forget some things. 

My mom used to laugh at me for getting stressy before a trip, worrying that I might forget something.

"They have stores at the beach," she'd say.

Still.

The timer's gone off. Leftovers for a late dinner. Fingers crossed I can get to bed early and get up early.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

   

Bits and Pieces

I tried to watch a scary movie last night. I didn't last very long. I wanted to watch a missed network show On Demand, but my cable has not been working. I finally called Comcast, and after, I kid you not, more than an hour on the phone working my way through their automated system to actually reach a human who then worked through their automated system doing the same steps I did, they decided to send a repair guy out today. (Grateful I did not have to wait days.) I may or may not have to pay a $100 service call. I reminded them that I should not have to pay for this correction since the problems started after their scheduled maintenance in my area "to improve my Xfinity experience."

My experience is not improved.

So, another plot twist. This time, a smaller one that simply affects my schedule for the day. I'm a bit weary of even small plot twists. My annual two weeks of rest and restoration time off before the program year start-up begins in two days. I feel a little like a thirsty person in the Wilderness crawling to the edge. 

I'll be at the beach for a week. I'm taking some books and good food and not much else. I plan to blob around and maybe go for some walks. I hope to sleep a lot, sit at the water's edge and look off into the horizon and deep waters, lie down on the sand and look up into endless blue skies. I'm hoping that the beach will be light on people and heavy on soft breezes. Maybe I'll go out to eat a few times and have some good seafood.

I haven't been to the beach house since a few months before Mom died.

That's about 18 months, and I almost fell down the rabbit hole of thinking about that time.

I had other bits and pieces I wanted to write about today, but they've slipped out of my mind as the writing led to me a space I'm not interested in exploring right now. I can say no to the places where the writing leads. 

Another edge I've crawled to.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discover into my own human experience. Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

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Calm After the Storm

Things have been stirred up.

Not sure where all this has been coming from, except that I am anticipating change beyond my control. Outside circumstances can disrupt inner calm, balance, equilibrium.

Others fail to plan, and the consequences can spread beyond their lives. I think about ways to insulate myself from this, but we're communal beings and can cause disruption for others and can feel disruption in our own lives that may have nothing to do with us, except that we are connected.

Plot twist.

It's a popular meme. Meant to inspire humor in the middle of disruption. I like it. Especially once the dust begins to settle and I can look around and assess what might be next.

How do we roll with things with ease and grace?

I've been thinking about that lately.

For now, I have a little bit of a reprieve and a little bit of time to think. 

To breathe through my anxiety and plan for how to manage challenging emotions that once might have led to a bit of soothing through non-supportive foods. 

I'm sipping a green smoothie made with spinach, cucumber, and frozen mango. I'll switch back to savory green smoothies tomorrow. I bought a half chicken at the store last night. Ran out to pick up coconut yogurt and saw my favorite label of pastured birds had stocked half chickens. They're fun to set into a roasting pan with some salt, pepper, and nice herbs. Maybe a little lemon and garlic. There's fresh tarragon in the fridge. Sounds perfect for a late summer evening. That'll be dinner, with some roasted asparagus, onion, and baby San Marzano tomatoes. I'll pop the bones into the slow cooker overnight for some quick broth. Or put the bones into the freezer for later.

I've been thinking about sleep hygiene and thought I might spend the week without screens in the evening. It's been awhile since I picked up my book, so I've been thinking about good music and a good read, with a nice cup of herbal tea. Early to bed and early up in the morning, maybe a walk along the canal. I'll take a look at the humidity. We're getting to the time of year when the early mornings are surprisingly cool, even when temps rise later in the day.      

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Something In the Weather Breaks

There's a change in the air. I woke to a cool and dry morning. A signal?

Yesterday I turned off the air conditioning. I threw open the windows. Fresh air blew through my place. Drove away the staleness. Sweetened the air. An invitation?

I wish it was as easy to refresh a life as it is to refresh a closed off space.

Another healing insight.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Back In the Messy Middle

There's a point in the Wilderness when you've come too far to go back, and the way ahead feels like it's so far beyond where you are that you might not make it.

I'm right about there.

The thing is, this is about the rest of my life. The program is over and I need to figure out how to make what I've learned work for me. Part of me wishes this had been a year-long program. I feel proud and relieved that I made it through the 90 days, and did really well, but there's a lot more to do, I'm discovering, to reach my goal of vibrant good health and weight release.

There's also a little bit of rebellion going on. 

I always say that you can do anything for a week or three weeks, a month or three months. It's doing it for a lifetime that is the challenge. Giving up sugar? Let's be truthful. I love sweet things, so this one is tough. Giving up grains, gluten? More truth. I love bread and pasta. I enjoy a balanced-feeling meal and I've been taught that this includes starches. Giving up dairy? Truth. Cheese? Yogurt? Cream? Butter? Really?

The other part of the truth is that these foods are not supportive to my well-being.

And nothing tastes as good as good health feels.

Still . . . 

[Pausing to breathe]

I've given myself the third Wilderness to work through some of this stuff. So far, I really haven't been doing that. Maybe I have. I've been experimenting with food and how it makes me feel, physically and emotionally. I've been dipping my toe in the waters of "real life" eating, and noticing. 

One thing I've noticed is that I need support and accountability. A three-month challenge is a great introduction, but it is not a lifestyle. I think I probably knew this already, but tried to convince myself a three-month program that is brilliantly marketed would be the cure-all. It's a good program, but definitely not a cure-all. 

Physician, heal thyself.

I've taken my daily rest, here in the Green Wilderness, and it's time to cork my water bottle, pick up my journey bag, and start moving again. It's day two of my buffer zone to switch seasons. Some berries, a green smoothie with banana and frozen mango, soup and salad for lunch, chicken and veg for dinner. I did the batch cooking yesterday and my fridge is full of good things. Time to spend some time with my mindset. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Soothing

I drove past Shake Shack on the way home from the store today.

The miracle is that I didn't stop. I could feel the impulse to soothe with food.

I spent some time last night, figuring out how I would use the buffer zone this week. I love the way WildFit organizes time and seasons, and offers a structure that is meaningful even beyond the challenge. I think I always will think of Thursday night through Sunday night as the buffer zone. Liminal time. Time for reflection, for preparation. Time to gently transition to something new if I need to.

I haven't had a green smoothie in a few weeks and I decided to have one this week. It tasted bitter, a note to self that I may be eating too many sweet foods ~ like sweet vegetables, root vegetables, and fruit. I am not eating sugar. At least, not intentionally. Some may have snuck in when I've been out to eat. It's a reason I don't eat out very often any more.

I decided to use a hack recommended for this kind of situation. And what's the situation? I'd like to be a little more disciplined and intentional around eating. I'd like to shore up my nutrients. Reorient my palate. Follow my three-month plan more closely. 

So I'll use the buffer zone, three days, to help me transition back to more disciplined eating by going back to basics. Start the day with some fruit, and then add some fruit to my green smoothie. Make another pot of roasted red pepper soup and pair that with salads for lunch. Have a serving of animal protein and some roasted vegetables for dinner. Make some artichoke hummus and divide that into portions. By Monday, I hope to switch back to savory green smoothies and enjoy them in the morning for the week. Swap out the roasted veg soup for a protein with my salads at lunch, and keep dinner the same.

A two-week group is being offered by my former WildFit coach around emotional eating, with some intensive reflection work. It starts on Monday. I think I'll sign up for that. Anytime I'm tempted to stop at Shake Shack to soothe with food, there's something emotional going on, and I'd like to have some extra support.

A friend suggested I get myself some flowers today instead. I shared with her a story about something that happened just before we spoke on the phone.

I saw a beautiful bouquet of flowers at Whole Foods for $19.99. I didn't want to spend the money. It's interesting to notice that I'd spend that at Shake Shack for lunch, but thought it was too much to spend on flowers. 

I'll just let that hang right here for a minute. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Journey Food

Elijah went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree . . . It is enough for now, he said. Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said, "Get up and eat." He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. The angel came a second time, touched him, and said, "Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you." He got up, and ate and drank; then went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights . . . 

A little bit of shade, some rest, a boundary, sleep, divine presence, touch, the smell of something nourishing cooking, cool, clear water, rest, more sleep, companionship, nourishment, refreshment, strength. 

Self care in the midst of the fray. 

 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Excerpt from 1 Kings 19:4-8a, NRSV.

Maybe I'll Write Later

It's the first morning in this series when I sit before the screen with absolutely nothing to say.

I think about going to wash my face, and maybe getting dressed and brushing my hair. Maybe I'll feel a new spark rise and something will strike me as interesting or something will come to mind that wants to be expressed or explored.

Sometimes the mind simply is clear. With nothing burning or burning through.

Natalie Goldberg would say, "Just keep writing, 'I can't think of what to write. I can't think of what to write. I can't think of what to write.'" Until I have something to write. I have a feeling that today I might fill the screen. And considering that you can never really fill the screen, like you can fill a page, that might go on far longer than I want to give to this writing today.  

My thoughts slip back to the theme of this writing, The Green Wilderness. Are there times in the Wilderness when you've been challenged enough in the landscape that a day comes when you just want to sit down on a big rock and breathe and look around at the stark beauty of where you're sitting?

Yes. That's it. That's where I am.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Tomato Sandwich

It's one of life's great summer pleasures.

Two pieces of bread, lightly toasted, some mayo, a little salt and pepper, and a juicy, red tomato. I've decided it's not something I want to give up completely, so it goes on the occasional list. Yesterday was an occasion.

Someone gave me a big, juicy, red tomato and it did not disappoint. The problem was I don't eat bread any more so I didn't have any bread at home, and before you ask, 

No, I'm not going to wrap it in a couple of lettuce leaves. 

While I was at the office yesterday, I popped down to visit with the ladies who quilt and one came in swinging a bag with part of a loaf of bread leftover from a Sunday project, that she planned to freeze for a project next month. Seemed like a sign to me, so I asked her if I might have two pieces of the bread. She warned me to watch it carefully so I don't burn it since I'll only have two pieces. So easy to burn white bread when you're toasting it in the oven.

A few hours later, and there it was. I used a little avocado oil mayo, cut a thick slice of the tomato, added a little salt and pepper, cut the sandwich in half an enjoyed a taste of summer. Sure, I want more, but I have a feeling that the best tomato sandwich of the season is the first, so I'll just stop there. Dinner was roasted veg and shrimp, and it was wonderful. Tonight it'll be the chorizo-spiced stuffed green peppers. I have one beautiful ear of corn and I'll make a charred onion and corn relish to put on top.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

  

Tidy, and Pull Back Together

Starting the second week of the program's end, the new beginning.

Thinking about a loose menu plan for the week.

I have all kinds of things in the fridge and pantry, but have lost touch with what, exactly, is there.

I made a half batch of artichoke hummus and had that with dinner last night, along with some apple-chicken sausages I bought a few weeks ago. They are Whole30-compliant, so not a bad choice as far as lightly-touched processed foods go. Yesterday I also had a large little gems salad with artichokes and toasted pine nuts, a little oil and vinegar, roasted red pepper soup, some berries in the morning and a green smoothie. It tasted bitter to me, so I need to be careful with my eating. The palate tells. I may be having too many sweet-tasting things and some sugar may even have snuck in there, likely with the sushi I've had twice in the last few weeks.

I've set a theme this week to tidy and pull back together. Life gets busy and it's easy to fall out of mindful living. A weekly theme is helpful with planting a seed in the consciousness and with moving through the week with more awareness. It's similar to an intention. 

A few weeks ago I ordered a desk pad that enables me to organize my week with a theme, goals, and action steps in mind. There's a habit tracker. Have I done something today that moves me closer to my goals? That's consistent with the weekly theme and the intention I've set for myself?  I'm not really an uber-organized accomplishment girl, but a little bit of awareness goes a long way to help me get to where I'd like to be in life.

I took a quick look in the fridge.

There are some veg that would be good to roast sooner rather than later, the other half of the artichoke hummus batch to make and portion in separate containers, some nice chicken broth I made over the weekend, some greens, coconut yogurt, two avocados, two green peppers, celery, cucumber, and a pound of ground pork. I can have the roasted veg with some shrimp from the freezer, and I plan to adapt the recipe for the chorizo-spiced meatballs into chorizo-spiced stuffed green peppers. I have a few red onions that I'll pickle and a couple of sweet potatoes that can become sweet potato toast with almond butter and a few sprinkles of cinnamon. That should just about do it for most of the week, and I can think about the weekend later.

Oh, yes, and someone gave me a huge tomato and some Italian frying peppers from the garden yesterday. So, there's that.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Chicken or Egg?

My food experiments have brought back congestion, and because I did not do one experiment a week, I have no idea what's causing what. There's a lesson.

I suspect my forays into dairy land have brought on the congestion. There's also been a tiny bit of gluten here and there. The immune system creates an antibody to the protein, prompting an immune response that can create congestion in those with a wheat allergy. 

Mainly, I'm waking up with it. Is it bothering me enough to make some adjustments to lifestyle and diet? I think so.

So today I'll have a few berries in the morning, a green smoothie, and then some soup when I get home from church, salad, some roasted vegetables. Maybe I'll thaw some shrimp and toss them on the pan with the veg for an easy dinner. 

Lots of water. Focus on the breath.

Sometimes I take for granted that I'm doing what's best for me, believing that the three months have made it habit. I think three months lay a groundwork for habit, that perhaps one stops resisting the new, but I'm not sure three months is long enough to have created new patterns that stick without some work. It's easy to fall back into old patterns without concentrated effort. 

So time to redouble my efforts. To think about the support I may want.

I may make a daily checklist for the week and hang it up. Just a little reminder. I no longer have the daily check-in with the WildFit platform. I could go back and re-listen to some of the videos and look at the checklists, but knowing the program is over has shifted my attention. It does make sense to print the week 13 food guidelines and the Living WildFit e-book. There are also memberships I can join for ongoing support and accountability, the WildFit membership and the membership with the coach we worked with during the program. I still need to look into that. Sounds like an action step for this week, to meet my ongoing goal of vibrant good health and weight release. Congestion is not part of that vibrant good health.

I notice that when I have congestion, there's also constriction in my thinking and emotions that I need to work to ease. It's interesting, the ways that the mental-emotional mirrors the physical. I'm curious which brings on the other. It feels like the proverbial chicken or egg question. But I suspect it's simpler than that. I suspect the physical leads and everything else follows.

 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

Breakfast with Adam Grant

A bottle of water with an orange slice, cut in half, sits on the counter.

A bag full of veg waits to be cleaned, cut up, and roasted. They'll become soup. A freezer full of bones wait to swim in the slow cooker with scraps to make broth. Dishes wait in the drainer to be put away. A thousand piles of paper wait for a decision. Boxes wait to be opened, contents looked at. More decisions.

I look around and it seems like everything is waiting for me. 

The direction of this writing has changed. It began as an ode to what is ready. To what is available. To wondrous abundance. It's become an elegy to what is undone. A different sort of abundance.

But, perhaps, readiness always anticipates the next action. Maybe even lives for it.

My mood shifts when thinking about the piles of paper and the unopened boxes, tasks I am not looking forward to, mainly because I am not yet able to make a decision about them, don't know what to do with it all. And I am stunned by how this awareness sours even the things I look forward to, like creating a beautiful roasted vegetable soup and nourishing bone broth. 

The awareness stops me in my tracks and invites reflection.

Procrastination gives you time to consider divergent ideas, to think in nonlinear ways, to make unexpected leaps.

                                                                                                                                                            Adam Grant

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Topsy Turvy

Home after a really good few days away.

Spent an evening with my brother and my niece. Spent an evening with friends from high school. Spent a morning in a coffee shop, writing. Enjoyed mild, albeit humid, days and only a little rain. Spent time in the family home. It still nourishes.

Ate out a lot. Sushi for dinner one night. A sandwich from my favorite neighborhood deli for lunch. A phenomenal steak salad at Clyde's, a cocktail, and a few bites of key lime pie. Brought several jars of my roasted red pepper soup, some coconut yogurt, local honey, and nuts. Brought a lot of food home, and stopped at the store on the way for more Cocoyo and red pepper soup fixins. Chicken wings. Forgot one thing, so I won't make the soup til tomorrow. It's nourishing me in ways I don't understand but definitely will take. 

Cut the last rose of the season in my mother's garden, and the last three black-eyed Susans. Left them in a small vase near my parents' photograph. Cleared away the spent blossoms from my last visit. There is not a bud to be found in the garden, but the hips are forming and everything is wonderfully wild and overgrown. Feral. 

Bravely got my act together this morning and left early to avoid the worst of the Friday beach traffic. A friend asked why I don't wait and go Saturday. There's beach traffic Saturday too ~ the folks who go down for week-long rentals. Besides, I have plans this evening. More time with friends. Good friends nourish.

I arrived back here just about two hours ago. Had the last of the soup and a salad, a few glasses of sparkling mineral water. I feel like I want something sweet. It's emotional, of course. Being with friends this evening will bring sweetness. The yellow tulips in the blue glass vase on my kitchen table do as well. There are a few dishes to wash and chicken wings to get into the oven and things to put away. I close my eyes, here at the keyboard, and take some breaths. Slow things down. Feel the air from the ceiling fan on my skin. 

The drive back had some maddening moments. Altogether four hours, with the quick stop at the store. It used to be a two and a half hour drive. Now, it's three hours on a good day. So much construction. So many crashes. So many drivers who forgot their manners during Covid. Everyone is in a hurry. 

I downshift and slow way down. 

There's a big work project to finish tomorrow. I'll set myself up and knock it out in a few hours. Make the soup. Do some reading. Think more about my sermon. It's Joseph, provoking jealousy among his brothers. They throw him in a pit and sell him to slavers headed for Egypt. A threshold story. It leads to a new expression of the larger story. A new expression of a people. An invitation to death transforms into life for a community. Everything is topsy turvy, but somehow the road winds back around. 

Funny how that happens.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

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Something Creepy With the Eyes

There's an unfinished portrait of my mother in the basement. 

It was given to her when the artist died. I remember the times, when I was a little girl, and we would drive over to the house where he rented a room from an older lady and Mom would sit for the artist. 

There are things I like about it, like the way the artist seems to transport Mom to the woods. The background is trees in a natural setting. They're a little abstract and impressionistic.

There are things I don't. Like the way the artist expresses my mother. I'm not sure he was an actual portrait painter. Her hands are too small for her body and look nothing like her actual hands, which were beautiful, with long, elegant fingers and nails.  

It calls to mind a writing prompt from a Natalie Goldberg writing retreat, My mother's hands . . .  The retreat was in 2017. The cancer was making life difficult for Mom, and she was in quite a bit of pain. I wrote about what it was like to hold her hand, as I often did. I remember letting myself think about her hands after her eventual death. I imagined what it might be like to hold her hands as she died and in the moments after her death. I remember crying by the end of reading that writing.

When Dad died, the only thing I recognized about him in the casket were his hands. He had big, strong, meaty hands. Other than that, there was not much I saw that remotely looked like my dad. It was so startling to me, I let out a tiny scream. But then I looked at his hands, and I knew it was him. I had not been with him when he died.

I'm not sure whose face the artist was thinking of as he painted my mother. It does not look like her, even a little bit, or as she looked when I was little. And the eyes. There's something creepy with the eyes. They remind me of a portrait hanging on the wall in a certain kind of movie. It's as if they are stretching as much as they can, to see something far off to the left. Just out of view. She's not looking at me. And that does not feel like my mother.

I suppose, in all fairness, it must be acknowledged that the artist had not gotten very far and seemed to be saving the face and hands. Death stopped him before he could finish what he had set out to do. Who knows what might be on the canvas if he had continued to live and to work? 

My thoughts are drawn to what might be unfinished as I move through my own life. The things I'm working on. What is in process. What I'm dreaming.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

 

Roasted Red Pepper Soup

It's my go-to for batch cooking these days during busy weeks.

I fell in love with this recipe when it passed through my FB feed a few weeks ago. Watched the reel about 10 times to get the ingredients and method. I may eat it til I'm sick of it. I whipped up a pot just a few days ago, portioned it into empty Bon Maman jam jars, and put it in the fridge. I started with seven jars and am down to three. Pretty much have been having it for breakfast (with a handful of blueberries), lunch (with a green salad), and dinner (also with a salad or an occasional protein, with or without salad). 

The main adaptation I made to the soup is to finely chop some walnuts in the food processor to sprinkle on top. I don't do it all the time, but it's fabulous when I do. My son thought it would be great with some grated cheese on top. I don't eat dairy these days, but if you do, you can try it. His suggestion was my inspiration to try it with walnuts. 

I substituted a Yukon gold potato for the beans, for creaminess, since I don't eat beans. There is often a workaround for an ingredient that doesn't work for you. If you're vegetarian, you can use vegetable broth instead of chicken broth.

The recipe couldn't be easier. It's also economical. I pop into the produce market up the street and bring home a bag of veg, pull some homemade chicken stock from the freezer, and I'm all set to cook. The hardest part is cleaning and prepping the veg, and that's not really hard or time-consuming at all. 

Here are the ingredients and the method:  

In a roasting pan, add these base vegetables - 

2 medium Vidalia or yellow onions, 2 carrots, 4 red peppers, a pint of cherry tomatoes.

Quarter everything except for the tomatoes.

For creaminess, add a Yukon gold potato (cut into 8 pieces) or a can (14 1/2 oz) of cannelloni beans (drained).

To season, add garlic cloves to taste (I usually use 6 fat garlic cloves), 1 tsp - 1TBS dried oregano, 1 tsp - 1 TBS sweet paprika, a sprig of fresh rosemary, a couple of sprigs of fresh thyme, 1-2 bay leaves, salt and pepper (about a teaspoon of each). 

Pour olive oil over the top and stir. I eyeball this. I like to coat the veg. Maybe 1/4-1/2 cup. Don't be stingy. Don't overdo it. 

Roast in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes. 

Remove the bay leaves, rosemary, and thyme. Discard. Pour the contents of the roasting pan, including all the pan juices and oil, into a pot and add 32 ounces of chicken stock/broth. Puree with a hand blender. Salt and pepper to taste. Enjoy. 

Note - Sometimes ovens cook differently. Make sure the carrots are not hard before removing everything to the pot and blending. The first time I made this, I had to cook the carrots in the broth for about 10 minutes (before adding everything else and blending) because I'd bought some really fat carrots and did not cut them into smaller pieces. If your carrots are a monstrous size, cut the quarters into half lengthwise before roasting. Also, if you've got that kind of carrot, use one instead of two. Sometimes I cut the veg into smaller pieces to roast. You'll find what works for you.

I haven't yet frozen this soup because it is so good that I eat it before it goes off, but it might freeze well. Try it if you make a batch and it does not go with lightning speed.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Triage Is a Verb

This week is shaping up to be some kind of transition week. 

I'm reflecting on last week's food experiments as I'm on my own, away from the guardrails of a program and creating guardrails for a lifestyle. My body is pretty much screaming at me. I was warned. That the body, now clear of irritants and other non-supportive foods and substances, may have some strong messages to their reintroduction.

It does.

I've done Whole30 a few times and the reintroduction messages were softer. One month is one thing, but three months of vibrantly healthy eating habits and their effects on the body do not go unnoticed. I've learned the body, at least my body, loves that kind of choosing. It seems that my body this week is trying to detox with or without my assistance or leadership. 

It's slowed me down and called me to rest. To resume choosing wisely.

I am hearing the message and not resisting. I am not scheduling beyond what is already scheduled this week. I am slowing down the rhythm of my days and not trying to wedge things into the nooks and crannies. 

I've made a beautiful roasted red pepper soup and am having that with salads, nuts, and some occasional animal protein and berries. I am flushing my system with filtered water. Being mindful about the breath and practicing a round of five cleansing breaths at least twice a day.

I've looked ahead to Thursday's get together with friends at a restaurant in Washington, checked out the menu on the website, decided which salad I'm going to have and the substitutions I'll ask for, made a note to myself to make and bring my own dressing. Talked to myself about having sparkling water instead of Prosecco.

The impulse to downshift is being challenged by things that are presenting as urgent, but really are not. So I triage. And I move what can wait, to later in the week or to next week. It leaves room to attend to what may be truly necessary in the moment. And most of what is truly necessary in the moment is my own self-care.

At some point, we need to put ourselves first.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Emotional Eating

I had a little news yesterday that threw me off my balance.

It's been a long time since I've picked up food to soothe. My body sends clear messages when I need to course correct and I'm in the thick of it today. I really didn't stray far from the path, but far enough that I am congested again. Yes, dairy. Cheese. Note to self, don't go to the store when news comes that throws me off my balance. 

The thing about dairy is it's smooth and comforting in one sense, but it inflames all my respiratory tissues, from my sinuses to my lungs. So it literally gets in the way of my breathing. I've been sitting here unpacking the why of comfort food. And, truth be told, I did not go all-in. Just a little teetering too close to the edge. My inner rebel testing the boundaries.

So here's the recommended procedure. It would be good to remember in the moment. Maybe I'll post a note in my kitchen. 

Stop. Think about the feeling you think the food is going to give you. 

Think of another way to get that feeling. 

Go do that instead.

The way the program leaders say it is much more elegant than I have said it here, but this is the core of it. Still, can anything give me what cheese does? 

Of course it can. 

Especially since cheese, really, just gives me congestion. The other things I think it gives me are illusion. It certainly doesn't restore balance.

Here's the thing. Stress hormones begin to flow and we lose our heads. Thinking turns off. Impulse turns on. The trick is to stop the flow of the stress hormones. Adrenaline. Cortisol. The breath can help with that. Remembering to breathe slowly, deeply, allowing the whole body to be pulled into the breath. It's the only way I know how to do it.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

Today Is the First Day Of the Rest of Your Life

It's Day 91. 

I'm still thinking in the program framework as I organize my thinking around my days. Yesterday was the 90th day. The end of the program, formally, and the last post which collected all the topical program videos in one place for easy access. It's a relief not to have to plow through all the days' posts to find them. A new cohort is being formed and begins tomorrow. We are invited into an alumni community and into membership support communities. I'm thinking about it. 

I also thought about doing the program again. The level of support is excellent, and a deep discount is offered to folks who've already completed the program. They seem to begin every 90 days or so, and there will be another that begins in November. That might be the one to join . . . for the holiday season. I wonder if doing it a second time will bring deeper understanding, more confidence moving through it, and increased results.

For now, I've got my three month plan and am grateful to step back into a greener menu for the coming week, after the last week of experimentation. I've definitely felt the effects, and not all of them feel good. And now that I've got eating sorted, I'd like to work on sleep and on intentional movement, to add strength building and flexibility to the swimming I'm already doing, so I'll be making a plan for that. I'd also like to create some goals around stress management and sabbath planning. I toss all these ingredients into the stock pot of my imagination and trust that they will come together into something nourishing.

For now, what I'm feeling is that August might want to be about downshifting a bit. Focusing less on accomplishment and more on living into. Gently, with an awareness of my nervous system. Fall will come soon enough, with its increased activity and faster rhythms.

I always seem to be trying to accomplish something. And sometimes it's hard for me, when I come to the end of a big project, to stop. To pause and rest. There's so much treasure in this space between. Things like reflection, reassessment, restoration, refreshment, recharging.

 The list goes on. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions about the small things in life.

Living WildFit

The first thing I did was to go to a restaurant, a really nice restaurant. Spent time with a good friend. Had a beautiful and delicious meal. Learned a few things.

Like an occasional cocktail and glass of wine are fine.

Like sharing an appetizer is still a great idea. And sometimes an appetizer might be a good idea for the main meal.

Like the main is too much food, but sometimes it's so good you just keep eating because you know it will never heat up as well as it came out of the kitchen and you just want to keep experiencing how wonderful the art of a great chef is. Still, don't keep eating and finish it. This is one of those things you just can't win. Unless you adjust your expectations. It's okay to leave some food on your plate. And it's definitely okay to pick all the blue crab and bacon off the top of the risotto.

Like you're no longer interested in dessert, unless it's gelato or sorbet. And, dear girl, remember that if you order the gelato, even a half scoop, you will be congested before you pull out of the parking lot.

Like, how right you were about a cup of black tea after a rich meal. It's, really, all the dessert you need. Another one for the occasional list.

  

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.