July

Independence Day in Beacon Hill, Boston: A child's interpretation.

To all outward appearances, this month has not been a particularly remarkable one as far as that goes. To be honest, July was much calmer than the preceding months. Yet I am left with the sense of having experienced a uniquely vivid and emotional period, one which deserves to be contemplated as an entity unto itself. 

Myer's new job as a Software Engineer (which he began in May) has enabled us to finally afford organic/free-range/pastured/grass-fed vittles, something we've long aspired to. I have not been able to eat a largely organic diet since my childhood in the Wisconsin woods, and I must admit, I'd forgotten what a tremendous difference there is... not only in nutrition, but also in taste. My first trip to the market on this budget was difficult; I actually felt a little guilty, picking up the expensive versions of items I normally buy. But I have adjusted quickly, and it would be difficult to go back now! The sense of joy I find in making such beautiful, nutrient-dense meals for myself and my husband can't be fit neatly into words. Perhaps a few images will tell the story more accurately.

Wild salmon, anchovies, organic spinach, garlic/ginger/onions, homemade sauerkraut, natto, yeast+ACV dressing, grass-fed butter+olive oil, and turmeric paste. 

Grass-fed spicy burgers with seaweed, onions, garlic, salsa+mustard... surrounded by a sea of cucumber-dill salad in cashew-coriander dressing. 

Organic arugula with seared portobello mushrooms, red pepper, organic tomatoes, grated carrot, ACV, sesame oil, black sesame seeds, and Tellicherry pepper.

Another area of life that I've improved on this month is my exercise routine. I quit the whole "chronic cardio" scene a while back, and have slowly adopted a weight-lifting habit. I spend 1/2 hour, five days a week, using the various machines provided at our gym... which were intimidating at first, for sure! The weight room definitely has a dude-oriented atmosphere, but I've gotten used to that as well, and now I'm seeing the benefits of my discipline. The pain in my neck is greatly lessened, and I'm able to hold a better posture in general. In addition to weights, I've upped the ante on my long-distance walking. Lately my weekly average is 75 miles. I walked over 300 miles in July, or so Fitbit tells me. I cannot begin to describe how therapeutic this practice is for me. Not only does it feel wonderful in my body, but it gives me time with my meditations and my art projects. Yes, painting takes place (for me) only 50% in front of an easel; the other half is done while walking. And I have seen so much more of "our fair city" this way--- I can't believe how little we usually know about the areas we inhabit. I've lived 6 years in Boston, and this summer have seen ten times more of it than I ever did before. Oh, one more tidbit on the subject of exercise: I must tell you about my barefoot shoes. These are by far the most comfortable shoes I have ever worn in my life. I never thought a shoe would approach the comfort of actually going barefoot, but Merrell/Vibram has done it. I should really be a spokesperson for these shoes, because I rave about them to everyone.

July has been beautiful, indeed, but also difficult. Two of my very best friends, women whose friendship during these past few years in Boston I will cherish for the rest of my life, have moved to the other side of America. They are my angels, these ladies.... I feel their absence deeply. They are both new mothers--- brilliant mothers!--- I will miss seeing their babies grow. This sense of loss has me thinking a lot about the transient nature of our modern lives; whereas once the majority of people would stay in the same village throughout the duration of a lifetime, today virtually no one has that experience. My Great-Great-Great Grandpa Johann Kohlmoosz left his German village at the age of 18, only returning for a visit once. Of his generation, he and his brothers were the only ones to leave. What he did was rare. Now it is rare to stay. I find myself wondering what we keep when people flit in and out of our lives on such a regular basis? I feel the loss, but I don't know what it means or how to address it, how to transform it into something useful.

~ <3 ~ 

Two years ago I began a tradition of watching Le Tour de France. This is a bit out of character for me, as I've never been a sports fan of any sort. Perhaps it's because I grew up with a father who built bikes for a living and rode them out of obsession. When I was a kid, we would regularly see him heading off in his Gios gear, one of those bright birds of the road that you'll occasionally see speeding past in colorful flocks... he'd commute to work all through the Wisconsin winter, 20 miles each way, and return home wish icicles hanging from his big red beard. Partly this, I'm sure. But also because I appreciate the sense of awe it gives me--- awe for the capacities of the human body. It is thrilling, entertaining, and aesthetically pleasing. I look forward to this event every year now.

Cyclists having a smoke in a 1920s Tour; maintenance in a 30s Tour.

Greg LeMond in 1986; Nairo Quintana and Chris Froome, 2015.

It has been a long month; endless in the way that long walks feel, yet brief because I did not want it to end. Tomorrow we are leaving on a trip to the Midwest--- I haven't seen home in a long time. I'll see Dad, Mom, a couple of my sisters, some very good friends, and a little school called Lawrence University... when I left that place, no one had "smart phones" and few had wi-fi. Facebook was a novelty. I'm not sure how I feel about seeing old places. I'll know more in a week, I suppose.

Addendum: other sights and sounds of July: Seinfeld, Patrick Swayze, Tangerine Dream, Ian McEwan, and Hokusai.

The unmistakable poppety-slappety theme.

Point Break, 1991. We laughed our bums off.

Hokusai's Fuji Mountain, 1831.

Tincture

I've recently developed a passing obsession with making herbal tinctures. Not only are tinctures fun, delicious, and easy to create, but they can also be quite beneficial to the health when used appropriately. A tincture differs from a cordial and an infusion--- specifically, it is the result of soaking an herb in distilled alcohol of at least 80 proof. A cordial, meanwhile, is often sweetened and uses weaker alcohol as a base, and an infusion requires heat to extract the plant's healthful compounds (such as tea). 

Portrait of Ibn Sina.

A page from Sina's Canon. 

Cordials and infusions have been used for thousands of years, but tinctures date back only to the discovery of distillation. The credit of this discovery is given to a Persian man named Ibn Sina , one of the most important thinkers and writers of the Islamic Golden Age (often called the "Father of Medicine"). In The Canon of Medicine, published in 1025, Sina wrote recipes for medicines that we would now call tinctures. It wasn't until the 15th century that distilling became a widespread practice, bringing tincture-making with it. For several hundred years, until the invention of pills, tinctures were the gold standard in oral medicine. Even into the early 20th century, this form of treatment was ubiquitous.

My favorite brand.

The uses of a particular tincture depend upon what herb or herbs were involved in its creation. There are thousands upon thousands of botanicals known or believed to have medicinal applications, and many of them can be prescribed in tincture form. One traditional concoction that I myself find especially helpful is Swedish Bitters, a powerful combination of 14 different herbs that help to stimulate the production of digestive enzymes. I take a couple of teaspoons before eating, or sometimes I add a little to hot ginger tea. I find it delicious, but my tolerance for the bitter taste is relatively high. Swedish Bitters includes: manna, angelica, zedoary, aloe, rhubarb, senna, myrrh, carline thistle, camphor, black snakeroot, valerian, cinnamon, cardamom, and saffron. The tinctures I have made so far were not chosen strategically in terms of their medicinal uses; rather, I was simply interested in how each might taste. For my edification and yours, however, I investigate their practical applications below.

My first effort was a rose petal tincture. One needs quite a bit of herb for this purpose, otherwise the results will be weak. The bottle used should be at least half full of herb before the alcohol is added. Vodka is best, being clear and relatively tasteless. The jar is then filled to the top with alcohol, corked, and set in a dark place for about 6 weeks. It is best to gently shake the bottle every so often to make sure all air bubbles become dislodged and the saturation is complete. Botanical.com gives a good overview of many different herbs and their uses. It says rose strengthens the liver and stomach, prevents cough and vomiting, and calms the nerves. It has also long been thought to treat heart conditions (because of or resulting in the connection with romance?), but this appears to be more of a treatment for the "emotional heart" than anything else. Not that symbolism isn't powerful in its own right, of course.

Victorian rose wallpaper.

The second tincture I bottled was an outgrowth of my obsession with galangal, which I purchased in bulk from Mountain Rose Herbs for the purpose of flavoring kombucha. If you have never tried this wonderful rhizome, you simply must. It is like ginger but... sharper and somehow more earthy. My galangal tincture turned out to be nothing short of mind-blowing--- I must admit that I've not used it medicinally at all, since it makes one doozy of an awesome cocktail! (Best ever low-ish carb tropical cocktail: 1 oz of galangal tincture + 4 oz all-natural coconut water, served very cold. Yow!) The health benefits of galangal, which is closely related to both ginger and turmeric, include: stimulating (aids in blood flow), powerful digestive, gas reliever, treatment for nausea/vomiting/fever, and helps with muscle recovery after a strenuous physical task. You also may be interested to know that the famous 12th-century nun Hildegard of Bingen, who was not only a composer and writer and artist but also a scientist/botanist/healer, extolled the virtues of galangal; she believed it to be a cure for pretty much every ailment.

Hildegard of Bingen stained glass window.

My most recent tincture is a preparation of wormwood, which I have not yet tasted. Wormwood is said to be the second most bitter herb known to man, though I have my doubts because the strong tea I make with it is not bitter to the point of intolerance. I often crave the bitter taste, which makes sense considering my weak digestion--- bitterness is said to stimulate digestive bile and the production of enzymes. Wormwood is said to be "excellent for all disorders of the stomach, creating an appetite, promoting digestion and preventing sickness after meals." It is the basis of absinthe, which, when taken medicinally, is supposed to tone the nerves and clear the mind. When taken in excess, however, it can produce giddiness, convulsions, and (some say) hallucinations.

L'Absinthe, 1901, Pablo Picasso. One of his many depictions of this subject. 

There are many more tinctures I'd love to experiment with, whether for medicinal purposes or for use in cocktails. Among them: turmeric, Tellicherry pepper, hibiscus, cardamom, anise, ginger, and chamomile. The extent of my obsession probably depends on availability of pretty bottles and supplies of particular herbs/spices. It isn't the cheapest of hobbies, but it is lots of fun and produces a useful product.

The Opposite of Real

A certain disturbing usage of the word "real" has lately come to my attention. Frankly, this word has struck me as problematic for a long time. When I was in college, people would say things like: "just wait until you graduate and have to start living in the real world." Although I could discern the intention of this statement, I still felt irritated and wished they would choose another word. College was very real to me. And as it has now been nine years since I graduated, I can say with the certainty of experience: college was as real as anything afterward... just different. But I digress. The truly icky applications of this powerful word go deeper than college vs. post-college life. 

Living the Unreal college life, circa 2005.

Consider the following phrases: "REAL men don't cry." "Real women have curves." "Chris Kyle was a REAL American hero." "REAL Christians___" (fill in the blank). 

In one sense, there is absolutely nothing wrong with these statements; there ARE men who don't cry, women who are curvy, Americans who kill and die for their country, and Christians who___. The serious issue comes to light when one contemplates what is meant, in each case, by the opposite of real. There are several possibilities, as you can see from the dictionary definition above, including fake, imaginary, and even nonexistent... which (I feel) is the most harmful. I've heard the word "real" used to attack a person's most fundamental sense of identity, be it gender, nationality, religion, etc. To state that a certain section of the population is "real" automatically creates an opposite population that is either fake, imaginary, or nonexistent. I think it is often used without sufficient forethought, and not always intended to injure... at least not consciously. But I do believe that the applications of "real" should be reconsidered. There is surely a better way to assert one's validity that does not involve negating the other (the perceived threat to oneself). 

Original Sundance poster.

Real Women Have Curves. Have you seen this film? I saw it many years ago, just after it was released. I thought it was a wonderful movie and I very much enjoyed it. That has not changed. However, the title always made me feel a little strange, and it took some time before I understood why. As a girl who has never been what you could call "busty" (in fact, bras are rendered useless on my body), it gave me the sense that I lacked an essential ingredient in the recipe of *woman.* Now, some might say that I don't know what it's like to be a bigger girl, and that I should not complain since I am thin and our culture is obsessed with thinness. I agree, that obsession is a serious problem. However, I stand strong in my opinion: cannot we both... alll... be real? What if a woman could be a woman simply because she feels like one? I would like to live in a world where that was true. 

The case is similar for a man who cries; he should be allowed to exist as a man because he says he's a man.... whether or not he sheds tears. (Actually, the statement "real men don't cry" is degrading to women as well as men, as it implies that the man in question is really more of a female... horror of horrors).

Below are two photos from a series by Howard Schatz documenting the very different body types of professional athletes. I think they are quite powerful when it comes to conversations about what physical attributes make a woman "womanly," because it's clear how silly that proposition even is. ALL these women are "real" women. 

Professional women athletes fig. 1

Professional women athletes fig. 2

Once again, in using Chris Kyle (of recent American Sniper fame) as an example, my intention is NOT to claim that he wasn't a "real" American. Of course he was. But the implication is that those who choose not to kill and die for this country are not Americans. I am one of those people. Am I not an american? Does being American involve denying the existence of those whose opinions we do not agree with? What a sad thought that is. But certainly human beings have been using this strategy of negation for thousands of years. One of the most consistently problematic and destructive uses of this word (and the idea it represents) is in the context of religion. Wars are fought routinely for the proclaimed purpose of defending the "real" god. Even within a religion, members of different sects or denominations often claim a monopoly on "realness" that can be extremely hurtful to others. In all these cases, the implications of "fake," "imaginary," or "nonexistent" take aim at the most integral ways we define our existence. 

Annunciation as mystic hunt, circle of Martin Schongauer, 1450-1491.

I sincerely hope that we all can be a little more careful with this word REAL... it is such an important word, which is why it is also such a dangerous one.