Wednesday 28 May 2014

Fish ladders and Buddha nature

My dog Maggie needed a walk on Monday and so did I. Not just a quick half an hour along the bike path, but a long, rambling wander somewhere different, somewhere to honour the glorious gift of sunshine that autumn had given us, somewhere that would help shake out the cobwebs, feel a little wildish and somewhere within a short drive. So after school drop-off, Maggie and I headed to the Darebin Parklands. It's still in the depths of suburbia, but there's something a little wild about it. There is space and rocky outcrops overlooking the creek and if you wander far enough on a week-day morning, it is highly likely that you won't see another person for quite a while. For me, that was perfect - I needed a little bit of space externally and internally to help me find a way of overcoming some obstacles that were proving very stubborn.



As I walked, I tried not to think too much - I trusted that being in nature would lead me back to myself; to that part of myself that knows the answers to all the kooky questions that life throws at me. And just as I came towards a creek crossing - there it was. The answer...and it was so simple it made me stop. One step at a time, m'luv. Oh. I had been getting so overwhelmed by all that needed to be done and achieved that I had missed this simple truth. All I needed to do was to slow down, take a breath and do what needed to be done - one step at a time. 

The next thing that happened made me laugh out loud. I walked another couple of metres and came upon a big rock with a plaque on it. This is what it said:


There must have been some very strong 'one step at a time' energy floating around that spot. Maybe it was a Songline. Maybe the country was singing to me. Maybe so many people had contemplated 'one step at a time' in front of that plaque that it had infused into space around it. Or maybe it was my Buddha nature. My still place. Fortunately it had spoken strongly to me and I needed to listen. So Maggie and I followed the trail, crossed the creek at the fish ladder and climbed to higher ground.





Thursday 15 May 2014

The day before shopping day is also the mother of invention.

Monday was a busy day. Three clients to treat and a child at home recovering from a bout of some horrible autumn something or other. What she required at the end of the day was a soup that would nourish her post-illness and help her harmonise the autumn/Lung energy. My first thought was potato and leek soup...leeks are a fabulous autumn food - pungent energy, in season and tasty. The potato aspect bothered me a little. The teacher that first introduced me to shiatsu and inspired me to become a shiatsu practitioner, Takao Nakazawa (the founder of Oki Do in Melbourne), always used to say that potatoes made you stupid and lazy (hence the not-so-kind name 'couch potato'). Now, I love a carb-rich potato feast, but Takao's words always ring in my ears when I consider eating or cooking with too many - I definitely do not want to inflict stupidity and laziness upon myself and those that I love! 

When I looked in the cupboard for ingredients, there was a definite lack of spuds - I only had 3 and my recipe required 
1 kg. The day before shopping day predicament had struck again! Not much in the stores and a great cooking idea that must come to fruition. Hmmm...so I searched a little further and the cooking goddesses were smiling upon me - I found at the bottom of the veggie drawer 3 parsnips and half a celeriac. What better way to nourish the Lung qi and yin than with a soup containing parsnip and celeriac - seasonal vegetables perfect for our body's energetic needs in late autumn.

I am pleased to say that Indigo loved her 'autumn nourishing' soup. In fact we all loved it and I thought that you may want to nourish yourselves and those you love with this recipe.

Autumn Belly-Warming Soup



2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 celeriac, peeled, cut into 1cm cubes
3 parsnips, peeled, cut into 1cm cubes
3  potatoes, peeled, cut into 1 cm cubes
1 leek, cut in half, washed well, finely sliced
1 medium brown onion, peeled, finely chopped
5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 bay leaves
1 litre home-made chicken stock (or vegetable stock for vegetarians)
sea salt and fresh ground white pepper
2 tbsp flat leaf parsley, finely chopped for garnish

Heat oil in a large heavy-based pot. Add the celeriac, parsnips, potatoes, leek, onion, garlic and bay leaves and cook on a low heat, stirring frequently until the leeks have softened.

Add the stock and simmer, covered, for about 25 minutes or until the vegetables are very tender. Remove the bay leaves and puree the soup until smooth. Season to taste. 

Ladle into bowls, garnish with parsley and serve with crusty bread.

Enjoy!





 

Tuesday 6 May 2014

My (not-so-secret) Love Affair


As the deep yin of winter creeps ever closer, I can feel my body starting to retract, feel the Qi moving deeper into the body. I know it's appropriate. I know this is as it should be after the expansion of the yang seasons. But...I have to say that this will be one of the first autumn/winters where I'm not longing for the chance to pull on my red boots, woolly coat and red beret and eat a steaming bowl of luscious beef bourguignon in celebration. What?! What is wrong with me? I am a typical winter-born woman - I love the cold, I love the chance to snuggle in front of the heater, to pull on my haramaki and warm my belly, or to settle myself into the kitchen and create a winter feast. This year I feel like I'm going through he motions; the joy has gone. 

I blame Thailand. In particular Koh Chang. For two weeks in March this year we relaxed and softened in the humid heat of that tropical island. As a winter-lovin' Melbourne chick I was fully expecting to be hot and sweaty and covered in heat rash. No heat rash appeared and I surprised myself by how much I loved the soft, embracing humidity. I loved being able to do my makka ho and yoga out on my porch over the lagoon at 6 in the morning and not feeling the slightest chill. I felt my body (and my heart) stretch and open a little further.


Every few days I received a Thai massage from a wonderful man on Khlong Phrao beach, a 3 minute walk away from where we were staying. I felt my body (and my heart) open even further.




                                                         
I did a Thai cooking course at the Koh Chang Cooking School with a gorgeous woman called Ya. She taught not only what Thai people eat and how to cook it, but how Thai food is an expression of the the heart and soul of it's people. With a lovely group of fellow foodies, I cooked and ate: pad thai, massaman curry, penang curry, green curry, prawns stir-fried with three friend's paste and sticky rice with fresh coconut, jack fruit and mango. And my heart (and belly) opened further.



We swam every day, ate great food, snorkeled with a whale shark (yes!!), hung out with beautiful friends and family, walked on the beach and I felt so relaxed that my joints could've been made out of jelly.

So dear autumn/winter, I still love you, but my heart has been stolen by seductive and languid tropical heat. I know I'll come to my senses soon enough, and I'll be all practical and Melbournian and start to enjoy the rugging up and turning inward, but until that time be gentle and understanding and don't expect too much of me. And I'll keep warming my belly and my heart with chicken soup, apple pie and cuddles from my kid and hope for the best.