As I've spent last even preparing food and embroidering an "I" onto a birthday crown I'm trying to make for Isaiah's birthday and this morning making the glitter play dough and lip balm for the favors, I've been pondering time and values.
My birthday cooking has been inspired by Feeding the Whole Family by Cynthia Lair recommended to me last year by my dear friend, Rachel. In fact, I'm making the exact same cake I made last for the big guy's birthday. It's this very cool recipe made by blending cooked millet and orange juice (I used pineapple-orange) along with many of the regular cake ingredients. I love to feed it to the children because it is feeding them actual food, cooked grains sweetened with only some maple syrup. The frosting is made from bananas, tofu, cream cheese, honey, and vanilla. Sooooo good, so fluffy. It's an amazing feeling to see a bunch of kids chowing on yumminess and also knowing that I'm not sending them home out of their minds on sugar and dye. (Don't worry...they're getting real ice cream to top the cake.)
All this cooking for the party (and dish-doing in the midst of cooking) along with sitting down to try to figure out how to embroider a golden "I" got me thinking that so much of how I spend my "extra" time feels like guilty pleasures. Frivolous even. What would I be doing with my time if I had ordered a cake and picked up a veggie and ranch dip at the local Hy-Vee? Figuring out how to earn more money? Working on my book? Studying Chinese medicine concepts? Yoga? Sleeping? I've always been a compulsive cook and crafter, easily spending late nights on some project that excites me. It can feel like frittering, yet I'm a person who has suffered and healed from an addiction, an eating disorder. Talk about frittering. Eating to squelch creative urges is frittering. Compulsively exercising to run away from the voices in my head...possibly frittering. Putting time and determination into feeding children food that won't poison their bodies doesn't seem like such a bad use of creative energy after all.
When I went to the market for supplies, I saw prepared everything. Half an aisle of cake mixes. Already-cut-up vegetables. It makes me feel kind of silly to insist on doing it all from scratch. To only feel comfortable buying meat from the person who tends the animals. To love whipping the cream and egg whites by hand to watch the process. It makes me feel like I don't really belong in my world. But I think more and more that the eating disorder was the first manifestation of not fitting in to this culture. Staking our claim with the choices of what we eat and buy and do, staying true to what we know is true is our only chance at true health and happiness and, ultimately, at making our mark on the world.
Singer Eartha Kitt died last week, and Amy Goodman did a piece on her. She spoke her mind about the Vietnam War at a luncheon with Lady Bird Johnson and was subsequently blacklisted, left to finish her career abroad. When asked about it, she replied that staying true to one's heart is really the only possibility for happiness.
But it's a conundrum, isn't it? Mixing glitter play dough while listening to Amy, Howard Zinn, and Naomi Klein. "I bet Naomi Klein doesn't make play dough," I think. Well no, of course not. I don't think she has any children. And Hillary told us years ago that she sure doesn't stay home baking cookies. Hmmm... What does that make me? I wonder. I guess the point for me is to value every minute. To make it count. To pay attention. Maybe the same things that helped me heal myself can help heal our collective life on this earth. One breath at a time.
Amen, sister. You are the hope and future of this country, true to its spirit. What a blessing for you to see the things you see and do the things you do.
Belly's looking warm and peaceful, still with that knowing look in her eyes.
Posted by: Robin | January 04, 2009 at 02:09 AM
Love the look on Belly's face! Nice fireplace, too.
xo
kt
Posted by: Kimmie | January 06, 2009 at 08:24 AM