I’ve spent the last few weeks oscillating between a desire to act and speak out in staunch opposition of the new set of leaders in our country, and the ideologies that govern with them, and wanting to curl up on my couch with a book and tea and stay there for the next 4 years.
Much of my time has been spent being quiet. I’ve gotten off of Facebook and read only pertinent news once every day or three. Something in my gut has told me not to react. Reaction, I think, instead of intention, is what’s gotten us into big messes since the beginning of time. I am not interested in perpetuating the cycle, and so, I’ve kept living normally. This, of course, is a direct reflection of my privilege, but that’s a conversation for another time. Here is where I’ve landed: I refuse to live a life that is a succession of anger or fear-based reactions to injustice. Instead, I will live a life of intentional peace-making and justice-doing, and I will live this way regardless of who is in power. It is my resolute belief that one can remain kind, generous, selfless, justice-seeking, mercy-giving, and “righteous” for lack of a better term regardless of whether the government of the day is oppressive or empowering. This is a verse I keep returning to; one that I think all people can find merit and truth in: Galatians 5:22-24 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. I prefer the Message translation of the verse, though: Galatians 5:22-24 But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. Legalism is helpless in bringing this about; it only gets in the way. Among those who belong to Christ, everything connected with getting our own way and mindlessly responding to what everyone else calls necessities is killed off for good—crucified. Now of course Paul was writing to the Galatians in response to the conservative legalistic Jewish leadership who were insisting that the Gentiles conform to Jewish traditions, so “law” here is speaking of religious laws, but I think the message comes through: there can never be a law that forbids us from being loving, joyful, at peace, compassionate, and committed. The concept of “resistance” which is becoming prevalent has made me think: if i now feel that how I live, who I protect, what action I take to seek justice on behalf of the oppressed; etc., needs to change, or if Donald Trump’s appointment suddenly makes me want to live differently, perhaps I wasn’t living rightly to begin with. I will not live rightly because I am afraid of what will happen if I don’t. I will not live rightly while the government is not aligned with what is good and just, only to return to my laziness if we see a change in the values or actions of the government in 2020. I will live rightly for the love of it; because it is right. Fear lasts as motivation only so long as fear is present to motivate, and eventually, I either stop being afraid or the forces causing me to fear leave. And when the fear leaves, so does my motivation. Love, however, is always present. Love and hope as motivators bring transformation of the heart and mind, and since love never leaves, neither does my motivation. I will live from love. I will live prophetically, for lack of a less religious word. In other words, I will live my life as a sign-post for the good and just future that is ahead. And so, my friends, I am determined to start this right-living with the basics of being a human - eating, resting, working, creating, and relating. I’ll start with a series on cooking and eating, and I don’t know how long it will go on, but I intend to settle in to the very human act of cooking and eating here on the blog for a good long time. Maybe 4 years or so, *wink face*. Perhaps this is a wild assertion, but it is my deep held belief that closed-minded, angry, violent, self-seeking, gluttonous, greedy or power-hungry people are the way that they are because they do not eat home-cooked meals around a table more than four times per year. A 1952 article in the Charleston Post and Courier declared grits to be the secret to world peace: "Given enough grits, the inhabitants of planet Earth would have nothing to fight about. A man full of grits is a man of peace." I agree wholeheartedly. If you do not, you have either never had grits or you have never had grits made well. I hope to inspire you to love food, to eat and drink well, and to center your life around your table. I hope to show you how a simple meal with simple people on a regular basis is perhaps the best activism there is. I hope you learn that justice and progress happen not at conference tables, but at dining tables. Yours and mine, to be exact.
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.Co-sleeping is a touchy subject among moms, or at least it seems to be on the conversation boards on my pregnancy/parenting app. Absurd statements from either side of the to-co-sleep-or-not-to-co-sleep issue range from "YOUR CHILD WILL NOT LOVE YOU IF YOU NOT SLEEP WITH IT UNTIL IT IS TWELVE" to "YOU WILL DEFINITELY ROLL OVER ON AND SUFFOCATE YOUR BABY AND IT WILL DEFINITELY DIE."
My feeling on arguing about or judging other people's parenting techniques is that it's a big fat waste of time, and also, where do parents get the time or mental energy to even NOTICE much less judge and critique what other parents are doing? Holy moly guys, I don't know about you but I'm way too busy trying to keep my baby alive to notice how someone else keeps their baby alive. THEY'RE ALIVE. This is the goal, for me at least, for the first year or two of life. The other reason I don't tell other parents why their parenting sucks is because ever since I became pregnant I've had deep and innate instincts that I cannot explain or describe adequately. They've not yet steered me wrong, and I highly doubt I'm the only mother to whom this has happened. I respect parental instincts wholeheartedly, and I respect other parents likewise. We've chosen to co-sleep. At first we chose it intentionally for reasons like a) cuddles, b) research shows that kids who co-sleep as infants have better emotional and social development, and c) more cuddles. Well, she's never been much of a cuddler. Even when she wants to be held, she's got her head way off your chest and looks around just in case there's something more exciting going on somewhere else. Homegirl needs her space when she sleeps. Being that we have a queen sized bed, and Ches & I are not ... ehem ...small people, most nights our bed situation looks like what the end of Titanic SHOULD have looked like - us trying to jigsaw our way into fitting all our butts on the same rectangular space for the night (I'm still very disappointed in you, Rose Dawson). Around month 3, sleeping together was getting especially challenging as her every 1-2 hour wakes (which have never improved *insert gif of woman choking and whispering "help"*) were beginning to wake Ches up, too. He's the most willing helper in the world but, being that he doesn't lactate, he can't offer much help and therefore waking up with his girls is pretty useless. Add to this that after 3 months (if you like your spouse like I do) you start to miss falling asleep next to each other without a small human between you. So, I tried to put her other places for a few weeks. Crib - big no. It was so terrible and I cried enough tears to drown like at LEAST a small rabbit. Cradle - getting too big for it. Couch with cushions removed - too much of a hassle. Sleeping anywhere besides our bed is not fun for any of us. I have to get all the way up, open my eyes all the way, walk to where she is, pick her up, feed her, and try to coax her back to sleep EVERY 1-2 HOURS. No thank you. Hard pass. If simplicity, sustainability, and significance are what I'm after - which they are - for us, co-sleeping is the answer. Cami wakes up hungry or needing comfort, she finds me & my milk source, and we both drift back to sleep after 5 minutes. Simple. Me not having to fully wake up 8 times a night for 30 minutes each time, therefore not throwing up and hallucinating during the daytime due to exhaustion - sustainable. Waking up in the morning to the gummy, toothless smile of my little unicorn baby (except during Wonder Week leap 4, which is the leap from the bowels of Hell) - significant. The nights may be cramped and sweaty and our spines may never be realigned after the acrobatics we do to all fit (it's still not excusable, Rose), but she's only going to be tiny and toothless for so long. She's only going to need me every two hours for so long, which right now is more of an encouragement than anything, but I know one day I'll say that phrase to someone else in the throws of motherhood with a big heap of sentimentality. And also, I deeply value my sleep and my sanity. And so, we will co-sleep, and we will cherish the sweaty, cramped, and sometimes frustrating and sometimes magical moments (like when you wake at 2 a.m. with two tiny hands cradling your face *swoon*) for the next 12 years. Just kidding. One of my favorite ways to "unplug" and sort of ground myself when life has been busy is to bake. This week, I decided to attempt a French tart and it turned out beautifully (and wildly yummy). Buttery, Apple-y, France-y. YOU SHOULD TRY IT (and also tell me how it turns out). Ok ok so you'll need: 2 c flour 1 1/2 sticks cubed butter 1 tbs sugar 1/2 c ice water couple pinches salt 1 tbs cinnamon 4 apples 1/2 c sugar (for topping) 1/2 stick butter (for topping) First, combine the flour, tbs of sugar, cinnamon and salt in a food processor. Next, add the 1 1/2 sticks of cubed butter. Blend until pea-sized clumps form. Unlike me. I blended the crap out of my butter. Whoops. Then, add the ice water and blend just until the dough forms a ball. Wrap and refrigerate 1 hour. While the dough is refrigerating, slice the apples about 1/8-1/4 of an inch thick. Remove the dough and roll it out on a well floured surface to a little over 10x14. Trim the edges, then layer the apples diagonally across the entire tart. I didn't use the ends of the apples a) for aesthetics and b) because I ate them. Sprinkle the remaining sugar on top of the tart, then dot with the last 1/2 stick of butter. Place in the oven at 400 degrees for 50 minutes. Take it out of the oven. Marvel at your talent. Turn on "Flawless***" by Beyoncé and dance around your kitchen. Now that you have burned a ton of calories, give yourself a slice of this glorious tart and a big old scoop of vanilla ice cream. . Look at you, you beautiful and powerful bakeress. I made that word up. You can use it now.
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Maddi AllenOregonian, woman, wife, mom, business owner, photographer, and writer in pursuit of a simple, sustainable, and significant lifestyle. ArchivesCategories |