February finds

A few of my favorite finds in the month of February:

Top favorite:
Favorite video: Television titan Shonda Rhimes talks about how playing with her children saved her career.

Favorite article: A fascinating article on how single women have become a formidable political force in America and what that means for our future

Favorite recipe: While being shut in to avoid election chaos, I made a double-batch of this delicious Thai coconut butternut squash soup

Favorite song: I can't stoplistening to The Civil Wars' new album, particularly Dust to Dust

Favorite quote:

From Spirituality and Health Magazine

Favorite comedic relief: Thank you, Saturday Night Live, for this gem: The Day Beyonce Turned Black

Favorite new word: invidious - likely to arouse or incur resentment or anger in others.  From Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Favorite product: This ceramic serving platter, made in Uganda by Vision for Africa

A Saturday drive

Yesterday I went for a drive with a friend to the outskirts of Kampala.  We took back roads and drove with the windows down, inviting interaction from those we passed.  Here are a few of the sights we saw.

A poem passed on

This morning, as I did yoga in our small library, Leo crawled around me and explored the room like active babies do.  At one point, he found the shelf with my old journals and yanked one out, leaving it open on the floor.  I went over to pick it up and it turned to a page where I had transcribed a poem given to me by my mother, to whom it had been passed from my grandmother and to her from my great-grandmother, Blanche Horner.

In the journal, I wrote: "My mom said that my Great-grandma Horner liked this poem so much that she sent it to all 10 of her kids.  She said, 'If you read it carefully several times and sort of take it as a philosophy in life, perhaps I will have served just a little.'"

Here is that poem, one withholding much wisdom, passed through the women of my family:

The Pleasure of Serving

All nature has an eagerness to serve.
The cloud serves, the wind serves, the furrow serves.
Where this is a tree to be planted, you plant it;
where there is an error to be corrected, you correct it;
where there is a difficult task that everyone shuns, you accept it.
Be the one who removes the stone from the road, hate from hearts, and difficulties from the problem.
There is the joy of being honest, and that of being just; but above all, there is the beautiful, the immense joy of serving.
How sad the world would be if everything in it were already done!
No rose bush to plant, no enterprise to undertake!
Do not feel called to do only the easy tasks!  It is exhilarating to do that which others shun!
But do not fall into the error of thinking there is merit only in doing great things.
There are small things that are real service; to decorate a table, to put books in order, to comb a little girl's hair.
That one criticizes, this one destroys; you be the one who serves.
To serve is not just a job for inferior beings.
God, who gives the fruit and the light, serves.
It would be well if He could call you, "(S)he who serves."
With His eyes on our hands, He asks us daily, "Did you serve today? Whom?  A tree, your friend, your brother?"
-by Gabriela Mistral of Chili, 1945

P.S. After further digging, it seems that Gabriela Mistral is quite the woman.  I'll be ordering Madwomen, a book of her poems, very soon.

What to do with an old hen

Our hens are getting old.  They are no longer laying eggs and therefore have become freeloaders, living off our food without giving anything in return. You know what that means: time to dine.

I had never seen the process of turning a live chicken into chicken on my plate, so I asked Kagwa, our guard, to show me how it's done.  The process didn't take long - it simply included the cutting of a neck, dunking the chicken in hot water, plucking the feathers, and gutting the insides.  Sure, it's not a pretty sight, but we should all know where our food comes from and what it takes to put a meal on our table.  This is eating local at its best.  My plate included meat from a chicken I raised myself; that is, until I actually tried to eat the thing and it was too tough to chew.  Apparently, that old hen was just a little too old.

A psychic cabin

There is a psychic place I hold in my mind - a cabin where I can retreat when I need to.  It is not a physical place, at least not yet, but a mental picture I can regularly access.  The following is an excerpt from my journal about this cabin in my mind, followed by beautiful photos of cabins that help me visualize this psychic place.  All photos are from Cabin Porn, whom I highly suggest you follow on Tumblr or Instagram.

From my journal, 3 January 2016:

"A scene comes into my mind almost daily of a wooden cabin tucked away in a forest and near a stream.  For me, it symbolizes living for myself rather than striving for the world, shutting away in a place suitable for soul growth, and having a small, but deep life with a strong light shining from within.  Maybe a few can see that light, but it is not for the world."