The Rose of Hope

I had a powerful déjà vu when I sat down and began to upload this picture—as if in the past I had dreamed the sequence of actions I was taking in the present.  Usually, that’s an awesome feeling but today it was so powerful as to seem a little scary. 

Anyhow, I just want to briefly say that, while looking at the roses my man planted for our family, I can’t help but be filled with awe and gratitude.  Not just for the rose bushes but for what they represent.  Over the last seven years my family has found our way to the peace that everyone deserves.  While it’s true that we still face a monumental challenge as a family, we speak only words of positive energy over that impending challenge and gather strength to deal with it.

This beautiful little flower growing in my backyard says more than any human could ever muster about the power of God, our Higher Power, the Universe, whatever you call it.  Don’t despair, fellow sojourner.  There’s a power, a source of strength, ready to take on your life’s challenges.  Just don’t give up before you find exactly what “flavor” of spirituality suits you best.  Then, when you find it, trust it implicitly. 

Love Affair with the Gulf of Mexico

Today the subject weighing heavy on my heart is my much-loved Gulf of Mexico.  My first memory of the Gulf of Mexico was when I was a child.  Several families from our church went down to the beach in Galveston for a day.  Although our family participated in that outing, my parents generally were more inland types and going to the beach wasn’t their idea of fun.  So, I didn’t get back to Galveston until I was a teenager. 

It was on the rolling waters of the Gulf of Mexico that I had my first spiritual experience, my first encounter with God, the Universe, the cosmos—whatever you label that energy that lives in and throughout every living thing.  I must have been in my late teens when a group of us went to the beach for the day.  I don’t remember much about that day except for the blue and red canvas air mattress and what I experienced as I bobbed up and down on the swells out in the water.

First, I would paddle out pretty far.  Then, I would lie on my stomach on the air mattress and let the waves wash me ashore again.  I don’t know how many such trips I had made that day, as I was on my way back into shore, lying on my stomach, chin on my stacked hands, looking towards the beach.  Back near the shore, people were splashing about in the water and moving around on the sand and cars were rolling back and forth on Seawall Boulevard.  Yet, I realized I couldn’t hear any of the cacophony of sounds I knew were being generated by such human movement.  As I lay there, I recognized that I couldn’t hear anything but the gentle splash of the water around my air mattress and the occasional cawing of a seagull.  When I closed my eyes and could no longer see human activity onshore, it was as if I was one with that awesome energy that is the Gulf of Mexico.

I felt isolated but not alone.  In that silence, I felt this amazing energy, this powerful force.  I was so moved by the overwhelming supremacy of the entity that we’ve named the Gulf of Mexico that I fell in love that day.  As I write this today, a scripture comes to mind that would fit perfectly with my experience.  The scripture goes something like, “Be still and know that I am God.” 

Over the 40 years since then I haven’t been as faithful to the Gulf as I should have been.  While I’ve never lived further than an hour away, I haven’t visited nearly enough.  With the increase in the local population over the last four decades, the beaches became too congested for me and raising a family took my attention and… well, whatever.  I didn’t get down there as much as I wanted but every time I went, I would draw on that raw energy.  Sitting for hours as wave after wave after wave rolled in, I would never tire of watching.  Finding a spot where all human noises were blocked, I could feel my spirit heal as I listened to the organic sound of the Gulf.

So, as I hear the real news cover the sad, sad—sad beyond description—rupture that has occurred in the BP pipe, my heart fills with fear.  Normally I enjoy The Daily Show when they poke fun at some of the most serious political and social issues of our time but Jon Stewart hasn’t managed to provoke one giggle when he talks about the Gulf of Mexico.

As much as I try to shelter myself from the poison that is our modern-day media, I have seen images of the mess that is being created by this manmade blunder.  The predictions by the scientists of the potential damage to the environment are heart breaking.  The fear of what could happen if we got a major hurricane while all this oil continues to bubble up out of the broken pipe takes my breath away and not in a good way.  Underlying all of this is a fundamental sadness that comes with the prospect of the inalterable changes in my beloved Gulf of Mexico. 

But, then, being a glass-half-full kind of gal, I remember the feeling I had that day floating out there, just me and the Gulf.  The power I felt made me understand how small I was and I was awestruck in the process.  While viewing the horrific damages occurring because of human bungling in the present, I can’t forget the awesome power that I experienced all those years ago.  I trust the Gulf of Mexico has the ability to recover from whatever damages mere humans can inflict.

As I hear sound bites from the pundits, the scientists, the experts and the naysayers, I can’t help feeling that the Gulf of Mexico is greater than all of them put together.  I have faith that the Gulf of Mexico will heal itself.  As amazing as our modern science is, it pales compared to the raw energy that is our universe.  We can scurry around in our human state and put forth ideas, one after the other, on how to solve this problem, and well we should.  But I would wager that the Gulf of Mexico has already begun its transformation to deal with our stupid gaffe in ways we can’t see.  I have no doubt about that.

Spice and Seasoning Sprinkling

Over the 40 years that I’ve been cooking, I’ve developed a feel for certain things, like the way to season or spice certain dishes without measuring.  For example, when I cook carne picada con papas (that’s ground beef with potatoes), I know that a light sprinkling of comino (cumin) over the entire surface of the food in the skillet will render just the right taste for me.  As well, I add ground cinnamon to my ground coffee in the basket before I brew the pot.  It’s about as much as I sprinkle on a piece of buttered bread to make the second layer of toppings for cinnamon toast, the third being granulated sugar.

Having made the three items mentioned above countless times in my adult life, the sprinkling process, in many cases, has become second nature.  It goes something like this:

• grab the bottle of spice;
• double check the label (very important step unless you want to add cinnamon instead of cumin to the carne picada; we ate it but it wasn’t very good);
• unscrew the outer cap;
• sprinkle through the sprinkle cap (the plastic cap underneath the outer cap with the holes to allow the spice to be sprinkled.)

So, to sum up my technique—grab, check, unscrew, and sprinkle.  However, something has happened in the world of packaging seasonings and spices to force a change in that technique.  The manufacturers of the bottles used by my favorite seasoning/spice companies have redesigned the bottle caps. 

Please understand I have no problem with the fact that the cap has been redesigned.  Now the outer cap and the sprinkle cap are one with the outer cap being attached by a hinge to the sprinkle cap.  So, now the technique becomes grab, check, flip and sprinkle.  Actually, it’s a timesaver for the efficiency-minded cook because a flip of the thumb gives you access to the sprinkle step and you could conceivably grab, check, flip and sprinkle with just one hand.  Also, for the record, I don’t have much trouble with change.  I find it challenging.  Sort of keeps me on my toes.

As I said above, I’m all for the redesign but I’m curious.  I know enough about corporate America to know that nothing gets changed without a series of meetings where every conceivable variation of the concept is discussed.  I’m curious to know something about those cap redesign meetings.  I'm curious to know if they discussed what would happen if my technique of grab, check, unscrew and sprinkle was applied to their bottles with the redesigned caps.  I'm curious to know if they laughed because it could be pretty funny for someone to dump a whole bottle of oregano into the spaghetti sauce.  Thankfully, I realized what was happening just before I did it.

The Spiritual Journey - First Installment

An exchange over the weekend with an old friend got me thinking about my spiritual journey.  Then, last night, I dreamed that Park Place Baptist Church was gone and the property where it had once stood was a nice lawn with a few trees that had evidently survived the demolition.  Park Place was the church I grew up in and the place I spent most of my first 20 years of life after home and school.  It is the source of some of the most wonderful memories of my life.  However, what I learned there also served as the source of some of the strongest spiritual conflicts in my life—conflicts that I couldn’t resolve until the 5^th decade of my life on this earthly plane.

So, this morning, I’m reflecting on my spirituality and what it looks like now that I’m finally comfortable with it.  You see, growing up I was surrounded by wonderful, well-meaning people who taught me what they believed.  I listened.  I processed.  I questioned.  Although I quickly learned that questioning wasn’t such a good idea, there was no doubt that for the most part these were sincere, thoughtful people who worked at living their faith.  Some met with more success than others. 

One of the main themes I couldn’t accept was the idea that if one didn’t find our particular brand of religion, one was doomed to an eternity in hell.  I simply couldn’t reconcile that with the image of God the Father who loved us enough that he sacrificed his only son so that we might avoid the burning pit.  I especially bristled at the idea of the poor people in the jungles of Africa dying and going to hell because the missionaries we were frantically dispersing around the world didn’t get to them in time.  Our goal was to save the world.  Talk about biting off more than you can chew.

As an adult, I would find myself tearing up when singing some of the words to the old hymns.  It just felt so wrong for me.  As a teenager, I just couldn’t accept these concepts of our religion being the official religion of entry into heaven.  I mean, I knew Catholic kids.  I even knew a Jewish girl, yeah, in Houston, Texas, in the 60s.  As well, I knew a variety of kids from other religious belief systems and some who were unaffiliated.  And, yet, these were some pretty great people.  So, how does this fatherly God work again in a world where so many of my fellow human beings, and good ones at that, were doomed.  I can remember a study program in Training Union (wherein we were trained to be good Southern Baptists) when I was in high school where we looked at a different religion every week to see what was wrong with that religion and why ours was so much better.  What happened to judge that ye be not judged?

So, at the turn of the century, I began my spiritual journey in earnest.  More about that next time.

Worthwhile Words

"Put it before them briefly so they will read it, clearly so they will appreciate it, picturesquely so they will remember it and, above all, accurately so they will be guided by its light."  So said Joseph Pulitzer.

Take Backs

Today I decided to give the ol' blogging thing another whirl. In looking over the blogs I had created, I narrowed the list to the main Evolution of a Painter. Then, as I went about my day, I decided that I might have been too hasty in deleting this one. I like that name, Stream of Consciousness.

So, I've reactivated it and I'll see what part is plays in my pathway of enlightenment. You'll notice I didn't say pathway "to" enlightenment. I've come to believe that enlightenment is a journey, not a destination. I know I'm not the first to come to that determination. It's just that now the concept feels most comfortable to me.

If enlightenment were permanently attainable and not a daily adventurous journey, there would be no need for wisdom or inspiration along those lines. But since the human mind is so easily distracted by the worries of this existence, it's helpful if we constantly bolster one another and encourage our co-sojourners (I made up a word?) to avidly pursue the pathway of enlightenment.

I truly believe we each have our unique path to follow. So, while no one can tell another exactly what steps to take, we stand a better chance of advancing if we cheer each other on to just take the next step, whatever it may be.

So, it is in that spirit that I will use this blog to put out energy into the cosmos. What an exciting prospect to tap into the universal energy and jump on that cosmic current that will move each of us where we need to be if we only open ourselves to the potential. Come along, fellow discoverer.

Today I leave you with the words of Bill or Ted, not sure which, "Be excellent to each other."