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.

Hair: God, Sex, Death & Power

Birds in Autumn.

Rapunzel, A. Rackham

There was a time, many years ago, when I took pride in my hair. Well, not in my hair, exactly, but rather in the fact that it was virgin hair. Actually, among the girls of the Kohlmoos household, the thought of cutting one's hair off was to be looked upon with abhorrence and disdain--- an insult to the "ways of the clan." Girlfriends might say to us on occasion, "your hair needs a trim; it will grow longer that way. Look at all the split ends!" That seemed ridiculous, however... cut it to make it longer? Pishaw! Somehow that made us all the more protective of our ragged 'dos. We all wanted long hair; really long hair, like down to our butts, down to our ankles. It seemed the equivalence of beauty, based on various fairy-tales Mom had read to us. But there was also something about the wildness, the extremity of it--- of not allowing a scissors to touch the hair at all--- that appealed to our sense of identity. 

Ok, I lied above. I did cut my hair once as a child, when I was about four. I remember standing outside on the bench... enjoying the sound the cutting made as it echoed through the strands of hair and into my brain, a luscious munching noise. I felt like I was doing something dangerous, and had a wonderful time imagining what Mom would say when she saw me. Of course she wasn't angry, but I did get to see a reaction... always fun for a kid.  

The Beloved Thich Nhat Hanh.

Hindu practitioner of asceticism.

Throughout history and across the earth, hair has always carried weighty significance. The cutting, styling, or strategic letting-be of hair is sometimes overtly symbolic, sometimes a more subtle form of cultural code. Almost all religions have rules and customs pertaining to hair. Buddhist monks and nuns shave their heads to signal their commitment to the practice of seeing beyond the ego and its world of *things*. (I heard Thich Nhat Hanh answer this question once; he said, "We shave our heads first of all to remind ourselves that we are monks and nuns... but also to let other people know not to try and marry us." TNH humor.)  In much of the Islamic world, women are required to cover their hair as a sign of modesty--- hair being considered a sexual aspect of the human body. For similar reasons, some ultra-Orthodox Jewish women shave their heads just before marriage. The idea is the same: modesty is equated with covering the hair. However, in this tradition, it became custom a to shave the hair off as a way of making the covering of it an easier task. Some resources also trace the practice back to ancient times when non-Jewish European kings had the "right" to sleep with any Jewish woman on her wedding night... so she might shave her head in the hopes that he would find her less attractive. In an apparently opposing tradition, certain Hindu ascetics who have dedicated themselves to achieving moksa (liberation from the wheel of birth and death), leave their hair completely uncut and untended, eventually developing what we would call dreadlocks. Although it differs in appearance from the religious custom of shaving one's head, the purpose is the same: to leave behind ego and the realm of earthly concerns.

Queen Elizabeth I

Unidentified French Grandee.

Hair often becomes symbolic in the realms of politics and war. Think, for example, of Elizabethan England. where an extremely high forehead was considered the beauty ideal for women. It was thought to indicate intelligence, but was also a sign of great wealth, as the cost of having one's hairline plucked regularly would have been quite out of reach for any except the uppermost crust. Queen Elizabeth I definitely contributed to the popularity of this style, and the regal aura it exudes is clear in the portraits painted of her throughout her lifetime.  A similar interplay between style and political power can be witnessed in the fashion for large wigs ("periwigs") that became all the rage in the French and British courts during the mid-1600s and lasted until the French Revolution. Wigs were already becoming a regular accessory by the close of the 16th century due to an epidemic of syphilis, a disease which caused dramatic hair loss. As long, full hair was a symbol of status and prestige, and syphilis a shameful illness for obvious reasons, wig-wearing fast became important for those in high positions. But the fad took off in a serious way thanks to France's Louis XIV and England's Charles II, who suffered from early baldness and grayness, respectively. Soon wigs went from cover-up to status symbol for both sexes, quickly assuming an air of ridiculousness in size and in style (consider the powder pink and blue versions, and those sporting scenery or food!)

Samurai topknot.

Wes Studi in "LOTM".

The distinctive Samurai topknot was originally utilitarian, being designed to fit snugly beneath a helmet. But like the French wig, its utility was forgotten as it morphed into a symbol so powerful that a warrior would cut off his topknot upon being captured as a signal of his shame and imminent demise. Warriors of the Native American tribe known as the Mohawks are the originators of a hairstyle which survives today, although much-changed in both appearance and meaning. Most Hollywood films inaccurately portray this customary 'do, making it look more like the Punk version than the historical reality (see above photo from The Last of the Mohicans). In actuality, Mohawk warriors' hair was plucked out, not shaven, and looked not so much like a strip as a patch near the back of the crown. It also included three hanging, decorated braids. Being the signature hairstyle of a warrior, the "mohawk" served a similar purpose as the Samurai topknot in that it indicated rank and power. (I have to add here that the hair-strip we call "mohawk" has appeared in many places and at many times throughout history, and is not the sole claim of the people whose name we use to refer to it.) These intricate wartime hairdos look even more extraordinary when compared to the current requisite cut of US military personnel. The buzzcut is simple and utilitarian, yes, but also serves to discourage individuality... unlike those highlighted above.

Pamela Anderson for Lange, 1992.

Have you ever entered the fix-it room of a ski or bicycle shop? If the answer is "yes," then you will recognize the poster at right (if not this one, then one like it--- seen one, seen 'em all). Brilliant, no? These girls invariably have big and/or long hair. As a male friend once said to me, "No chick can be hot with short hair." I disagree, naturally, but then... I'm not a guy. (Seriously though: Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta. 'Nuf said!) The point here is that long hair = "sexy" in our culture, and probably for the majority cultures around the world. I suppose it is a certain kind of power, like those French wigs... although I'm not sure who exactly holds the power here, considering the aforementioned comment of a friend. Perhaps the power is fluid in this context; a game like any other. I have seen this game, but even when I had long hair, I never acquired the skill to play. If I ever have occasion to take the bus or train, I like to watch what girls do with their hair when they flirt. It is an art, I swear! The perfect flowing locks, falling just so--- the flirty glance from under them, the flirty *toss* to the side. It is a tool in the complex technology of attraction.  Long/big hair is always "in" to some extent, but one era during which it was a must for almost everyone was the 1980's. I remember going over to the neighbors' house, the Sheridans. They had four girls--- girls who introduced the ragamuffin Kohlmooses to hoola-hoops, banana-seat bikes, jelly shoes, and hairspray. At this point you should revisit the photo at the top of this post; do these girls look like they know jelly shoes or hairspray? But although such things seemed strange and foreign at the time, today I feel a twinge of nostalgia when I see an 80's film in which these items make an appearance. I suppose that is my cultural memory... Yes, hairspray. One must have needed a good bit of it not only in the hair but in the respiratory system to make this shag-carpet insanity look attractive!

Random 1980s yearbook pictures. Yow!

Rituals involving the hair of mourners after the death of a loved one are many and varied. Above we saw how religious renunciation of worldly things can mean either shaving one's hair completely or allowing it to grow untended. Mourning customs are similar in their extremes. Jewish Tradition, for instance, forbids male relatives of the deceased from cutting their beards for seven days, Likewise, male Hindu relatives of a deceased person do not cut their hair for eleven days, but on this day they ceremonially shave both head and beard. There also exists a Nigerian custom in which a widow shaves her head in order to express sorrow at the passing of her husband. 

I think everyone has strong feelings regarding hair, especially women. One reason why I found it so liberating to shave my head is that I stopped obsessing about hair entirely. There's nothing to worry about in that department because nothing can be changed. It is what it is. No decisions are to be made. As a teenager, I used to bring myself to the verge of tears on days when my ponytail had "lumps" or my braid was uneven. My hair was a massive OCD trigger for me. Now, when I see a girl with perfect hair, I don't think "Why isn't MY hair like that?" It's not like that because I have none, haha! Problem solved. Of course I do occasionally wish I could do something radically different with my hair... but overall the shaved-head experience has been a positive one for me. 

Egg-head, 2009.

  

Tea

Every morning I drink a pot of tea. The first thing I do when I enter the kitchen is turn my silver kettle on to boil. I crave my tea at that time of the day, not because it wakes me up (I rarely have difficulty with mornings), but because there is a certain something about the combination of pre-dawn and that crisp, steaming beverage... that I find to be blissfully cleansing and invigorating. Apparently I'm not alone in my love of tea; it's the second most-consumed beverage in the world after water. I drink one whole pot myself, and sometimes I have more late-morning. I know people who prefer their tea lukewarm... but I like mine very hot. I can taste it better this way, and my body feels most calmed and satisfied.

This traditional tetsubin cast iron Japanese teapot was a wedding gift from our friend Mona. I use it every day.

Camellia Sinensis

Mythic/historical figure Shennong

The tea plant, camellia sinensis, probably originated in the area that now includes northern Burma and southwest China (Yunnan and Sichuan provinces), although the precise location is difficult to determine, as cultivation has spread far and wide over the past several thousand years. A popular Chinese legend attributes the invention of tea as a beverage to emperor Shennong ("Divine Farmer") in 2737 BC. However, tea was used medicinally much earlier on. In fact, no one really knows when or how humans began using the plant. To me, that makes tea both practical and mystical--- a combination of attributes I find most attractive (not just in tea). From China it spread to Korea, Japan, and Vietnam. People in the Himalayan region of India used tea in medicine for an unknown period of time, but it did not become a common beverage until the British introduced it as such. The Western world discovered tea when Portuguese priests and merchants visited China during the 16th century. Tea-drinking spread to Britain around 1660, but did not become commonplace until the mid 1700s. A thriving black market trade organized around tea eventually led to the Boston Tea Party, and only ceased when the British stopped taxing it (by 1785). Interestingly, Americans actually drank more tea than the English did before Boston's most famous party.  

The five most popular varieties of tea.

There are many varieties of tea, but five can be identified as the "main" or most widely consumed. They are, as shown above: white, green, oolong, black, and pu erh. While they all come from the camellia sinensis plant, each type constitutes a radically different sipping experience. I was quite amazed to discover (in my early days of tea-geekhood) that every variation is a result of growing conditions, climate, harvest time, plant part, and processing. Tea production truly is an art, and the more I read about it, the more it astonishes me. I'm fast becoming a snob, although I do have a long way to go before I really qualify!

A great visual of tea data.

My personal favorites are green and oolong, with white a close third, and pu erh of great interest because making it involves fermentation (I <3 fermentation).  I wish I could give you an exhaustive list of all the exotic kinds within each category that I've tried... but to speak the truth, it's expensive, and I have not been able to indulge all my tea urges as yet. Some of the best I've tasted so far include gyokuro (a vibrant green from Japan), jade oolong (it smells like lilacs!), and silver needle (an airy white). I also love the traditional jasmine green, gunpowder green, and sencha. One I've been dying to try is Ti Kuan Yin, an oolong named after one of my favorite Buddhist deities (she is called Avelokiteshvara in Sanskrit).  I'm also lusting after shincha, pouchong, and the beautiful "blooming teas" made of tea leaves carefully sewn together that blossom when steeped in hot water. I don't mean to neglect the black teas here--- it's just that they aren't my particular favorites. I do, however, depend on Irish Breakfast to feed my kombucha culture! Black is definitely her favorite.

Aside from indulging my appreciation of fine craft and intricate gustatory pleasure, tea also happens to be extremely healthy. It's hard to deny several thousand years' worth of ancestral wisdom on this front. Tea feels so good to my body that quoting "evidence" seems a little absurd, but as I mentioned before, my personality consists of equal parts hokey-pokey intuition/magic and scientific rationality, so I can't not put in a few words about studies "proving" tea's health benefits. Time magazine has a page on tea that seems to check out, and here are a few juicy tidbits via Harvard Medical School's website:

• Tea drinking appears to lower the risk for heart disease and stroke
• Natural compounds called polyphenols in green tea might protect against several cancers, including those of the prostate, GI tract, lungs, breast, and skin
• Caffeine and antioxidants called catechins found in green, oolong, and white teas may increase metabolism and promote weight loss
• Tea polyphenols are thought to strengthen bones and protect against fractures
• People who drink tea could see improvements in mood, concentration, and performance.

The infographic at right is great; just click to enlarge if you can't read it at current size. It has some great statistics about all things tea. 

I have a wealth of nostalgic memories based on tea-drinking ritual. When I first met Myer in Autumn 2004 at Lawrence University, we bonded over our love of walking in the season's invigorating chill and bright leaf-colors with our travel mugs of hot tea. We still enjoy this practice, and every time we do, we are filled with a sense of romance because it was something we did in the beginning. Mushy, I know. (Sorry not sorry!) 

Us back then.

That's about all I have to say on the subject of tea, for now. Let me know what some of your favorites are... 

Egg

A variety of eggs.

Eggs. Yes, they are incredible. And I think might be one of the healthiest and most versatile foods on the planet. This year I began eating them raw, which was a revelation, because I used to always get "egg burps" after eating them cooked. I'm not a big fan of the whites, but the yolks are to die for. There's nothing quite like the taste of a plain, fresh, raw egg yolk with a few grains of sea salt! As a kid, my sister Rhiannon owned a veritable bestiary of animals, many of which were the egg-laying sort. Here are the types of eggs I've tried: goose, duck, guineahen, peahen, emu, turtledove, and of course chicken.  Duck are my favorite. The yolks are large and extra creamy... and the color of the egg shell is a beautiful light green (if it's a mallard egg, like the kind we had). Unfortunately, I have not found a place to buy fresh duck eggs; only the black preserved ones (which I love, but are expensive... and not raw, obviously!)

Did you know that an egg is a single cell? At least that's my understanding of it; I'm no biologist. Pretty cool though, if that's the case. They are also a near-perfect balance in terms of nutrients, being intended to nourish a growing baby. Eating a raw egg is like taking a multivitamin, only 100% natural and super delicious to boot. Here is a breakdown of (some of) the contents of an egg, given in terms of white vs yolk. Don't throw out that liquid gold!!! Look for dark-colored yolks; eggs with the brightest, deepest yellow yolks are the healthiest. I remember some home-grown specimens being almost orange! (PS, yolk-fat is awesome. Without it, you wouldn't be able to absorb those vitamins).

The culinary history of eggs goes back as far as humans do. We've been eating them basically since we stood upright. And no wonder--- they are the original fast food. Long before people learned how to cook their victuals, eggs were sucked straight from the shell upon discovery. Egg symbolism across cultures is fascinating. Not surprisingly, they have long been a symbol of life itself and were often believed to enhance fertility. In the East there was at one time a practice called "oomancy" (delightful word!) for predicting the future in the cracks of eggshells. In the West, the egg has been used as a Christian symbol--- think Easter. The reason eggs are sold by the dozen relates to the special place held by #12 in Christian mythology (you guessed it: 12 apostles). Apparently eggs have been sold this way since Elizabethan times. 

If you don't know how this has to do with eggs, I pity you.

You can do just about anything with eggs. Their uses are so diverse that is difficult to decide which recipes to include here. Personally, I like to either eat the raw yolks plain or else mix them with cacao powder, cinnamon, and whey powder for a tasty and energizing mini-meal. But I also serve them to Myer in various cooked guises.

Deviled Eggs

According to my research, deviled eggs in some form or other date back at least to Roman times. "Stuffed eggs" in many different cultures take on a wide variety of forms, some of them more appealing than others. Here is one I've made a few times.

6 hard-boiled eggs
2 tablespoons virgin coconut oil
1 teaspoon turmeric powder
Salt
Cayenne pepper

Slice eggs in half, remove yolks. Add coconut oil and turmeric to yolks and mix well. Form mixture into balls and press them into the whites. Sprinkle with sea salt and cayenne pepper to taste.

Egg Tea

I found this recipe for "Primal Egg Coffee" on Mark's Daily Apple and was intrigued. However, I don't drink coffee, so I decided to try a simple version with tea. I couldn't really picture how it would work--- I thought the egg yolk would just cook in the tea and be all chunky and gross. Not a bit! It's like tea with cream, only sans lactose and plus all that great egg yolk nutrition. So here's what I do: brew one cup of strong black tea (Lapsang Souchong is great for this!)... wash an egg, carefully crack it and separate the yolk from the white. Plop the yolk into your cup, break with a spoon and stir well. The tea will instantly be creamy and opaque. Drink while hot! 

Egg-in-a-(Tofu)-Hole

I used to make this for Myer a lot. It's very simple. Just cut a square hole out of a chunk of tofu... roughly egg-sized... fry the tofu on one side, flip, crack an egg into the hole, and cook until the egg is solid so it doesn't make a mess when you take it out of the frying pan. Sriracha lovey-dovey decoration optional....

Self-Portrait

In-progress.

I have been fascinated by portraits in art since I first began looking at Dad's old art history books as a little kid. Human faces were always my favorite subjects; I don't think that needs any explanation. As a child, I loved to draw people. "Beautiful Ladies" made frequent appearances in my sketchbooks. But I didn't begin drawing pictures of myself until I attended college. For some reason, I was squeamish about it when surrounded by my family. I thought drawing myself would indicate something suspect in me. Once I started using my own face and body as subjects, however, I could not stop. Suspect? Maybe. But I'm sure other artists will understand the attraction. What actually happens when one visually depicts oneself? Sometimes this practice is seen as narcissistic and egotistical; on the contrary (I believe), it encourages understanding and compassion for others by teaching understanding and compassion for oneself. It is a search for identification through the commonality of idiosyncrasy. It is a narration of recognition. A self-portrait is a definition of reality (and an acknowledgment of differing realities). The spell of the self-portrait is difficult to escape. And I wonder, why try? Many of my favorite paintings of all time happen to be of this genre.

Frida Kahlo, Self-Portrait with Necklace, 1933.

I've recently been reading the most incredible book, The Self-Portrait: A Cultural History by James Hall. Not only is it informative from a historical perspective (I am ravenous for history), but it speaks intimately to me about my own desire to depict myself... while making me feel such companionship with artists spread out across hundreds of years. If you are interested in the subject at all, I highly recommend this book. 

Some artists are known mainly for their self-portraits. Frida Kahlo is one such. At the time of her death (age 47), she had painted about 55 of them.  Rembrandt is also known largely for his self-portraits, many completed in his youthful years. I have been lucky enough to see several of these stunning works, including a small piece that resides in Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum. He depicts himself at the tender age of 23. When I stood before it, I felt as though I were facing a fire that had been burning for 400 years... like my soul was being seared by a beautiful brand. 

Rembrandt, Self-Portrait as a Young Man, 1629.

Before the 15th century, self-portraits in art were comparatively rare and not hailed with such to-do. For a great deal of history, artists were in fact considered equivalent in status to blacksmiths or weavers; they were "craftspeople," and not deemed significant enough to warrant the sort of historical memorial that portraiture entailed. Still, they sneaked in self-portraits whenever they could and in spite of ridicule or even punishment. The desire of the artist to portray him/herself... has remained constant. One painting I desperately wish I could see in person currently hangs in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany. Albrecht Dürer's Self-Portrait (1500) has deeply affected me since I first saw an image of it many years ago. Even without the art history context, this piece is (in my humble opinion) unsurpassed. Within said context, it takes on many additional layers of meaning and explains its important position in the textbooks. Just look at it for a moment... that hair! That gaze! That hand! I'd go to Germany solely to visit this awe-inspiring yet humbly-sized (26 x 19 inches) painting.

Durer, Self-Portrait, 1500.

Much of the controversy surrounding this portrait revolves around Durer's (apparent) allusions to images of Christ from the period. He has employed various conventions of representation and symbolic elements that make this reference difficult to doubt. I'm sure I need not go into why that was problematic for many people. However, I don't think Durer was intending it to be an affront... from my perspective, he was in fact "worshiping God" in his own way; in the way he needed to, although it was not necessarily safe.

Picasso, Self-Portrait, 1901.

Sofonisba Anguissola

Two more I must mention before I bring this to a close: the first is Picasso's from his "blue period." It's something about the placement of his face on the canvas, and his expression surrounded by blues that are somehow both soft and vicious. The second is by Italian Renaissance painter Sofonisba Anguissola, who created many self-portraits throughout her long life (an incredible 92 years). I think they are all beautiful, but the small example pictured here is my favorite because of the angle at which her head is tilted... and the wisdom-filled youth in her gaze.

I enjoy looking at portraits in general, but self-portraiture holds a special fascination for me. When I stare deeply into a great one, I feel a twinge of that longing--- that desire to bridge the chasm between perception and perceived. In the really, truly great ones, I can taste it. Which is what spurs me to continue attempting my own. I've finished several, all of them quite different from each other, and am working on two more. The "sliver picture" at the beginning of this post is a taste of my most recent self-portrait project (and, sadly, it is far from done!).

Lady with a Langur, 2012.

Rosa Acicularis, Prickly Wild Rose

Down in the lower gardens on the strip, where the Milky Way shone bright at night, our wild roses grew. Mom brought them small from Grandma's garden up in Minnesota, but they were enthusiastic flowers and fast made our home their own. Yesterday I asked Mom if the roses were still there, and she said yes, it's hard to keep them at bay.... which I was glad to hear. Wild roses are my favorite flowers. Have you sniffed a wild rose? The scent is like a drug, it overtakes me. During this time of year, I often smell them before I see them; where are you, my delicious friend? There you are, and I make the apt-named beeline to stand and inhale, inhale until I almost faint of too much oxygen. Standing like that, I see the secret world beneath the spiny bushes and it reminds me of picking raspberries in the forest as a child. Did you know? Raspberries and roses are in the same family. I think I am part of that family, too.

From Snow White and Rose Red

Roses. Probably the most oft-referenced flower by artists and poets through many centuries, and used symbolically in countless myths/folktales/etc. When I was very small, my dad told me about the brilliance of Gertrude Stein: "Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose"... which I didn't understand, but pretended to, because Dad spoke to me like I was a smart girl who would know such things. There is a Grimm's fairy tale called Snow White and Rose Red that my sister Rhiannon and I loved. She said they were us--- she was Snow White and I was Rose Red. That suited me fine. Mom read us Romeo and Juliet out loud, explaining every line as she went. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet." Yes, yes I understood that! Because I had smelled roses, and there was no denying the transcendence of their scent. One of our best friends growing up was named Rose. Everyone else called her "Rosie"; we stubbornly stuck with "Rose." To me that meant the wholeness of the flowering plant in all its glory, whereas "rosie" sounded like an adjective, a skin tone. I still call her Rose, and I'm sure she will laugh reading this.

Last year in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, I stumbled across a treasure by the windows in the "Dutch room."

The Madonna and Child in a Rose Arbor, 16th c., Workshop of Martin Schongauer, German, 1450-1491, Oil on wood

Page of a 16th c. German hymnal

This painting is spell-binding to me. I think it feels like home. All the plants are hyper-real, which in my mind seems more real than "actual" real.... and I know what most of them are because I grew up in that garden. Roses have been used since Medieval times as a symbol for both Christ and Mary. In the 16th century German hymn "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen" ("Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming"), it symbolizes Christ's birth. Mom used to sing this hymn at Christmastime; it was always one of her favorites. I wasn't a fan back then because it was difficult for me to sing, and I didn't understand how a rose had to do with Christmas. Now I love it because it reminds me of Mom.

I eat roses. I drink roses. I put roses on my body.... Raspberries drizzled with rose water, rose-petal kombucha, Weleda wild rose body oil and Wyndmere rose oil in jojoba. I cannot get enough. Of course I am aware that roses are cliche as a favorite flower. However, I think resisting my love of these divine blossoms because so many have loved them before... would prove me rather silly. When I was a little girl, I chose brown as my favorite color for a long time, because I felt sorry for the brown Crayola marker. No one seemed to love it. These days, I just go right for the juiciest, sparkliest, tastiest, and most colorful. Sorry brown Crayola marker. After all, as they say, life is short. So I stop and smell the ... like, every five minutes.   

Chocolate

I have been making a concerted effort to incorporate more chocolate into my diet. Yes, you read that right. But perhaps I should use the more specific term cacao, because what I'm referring to here is the pure ingredient, not the sugar-lined candy. I love chocolate; who doesn't? But while the cacao makes me feel awesome, the sugar tends to weaken my immune system and causes my heart to race. So I've embarked on a mission to create chocolate delicacies sans sugar. I now realize that not only is it much healthier this way, but I actually adore the taste of bitter chocolate. 

As you may know, cacao is a very nutritious food when minimally processed. 2.5 tablespoons of raw cacao powder (such as Navitas Naturals, one I've tried and can vouch for) contain: 3 grams protein, 23% RDI magnesium, 7% potassium, 8% iron, as well as trace amounts of calcium, copper, selenium, manganese, zinc, vitamins E, K, several Bs, and choline. Most of us don't get enough magnesium in our diets, so cacao can be very helpful in that respect. Then there are the oft-touted antioxidants in the form of flavonoids called catechins and epicatechins that help lower blood pressure and prevent systemic inflammation. These compounds are also found in other foods, such as green tea and red wine, but are particularly concentrated in pure cacao. 

Aztec woman mixing cacao drink

The cultivation of cacao in its native Mesoamerica may date back as far as 1900 BCE. There is evidence that it was used to create a kind fermented alcoholic beverage, and was also employed ritualistically, medicinally (it was thought to be an aphrodisiac), and as a currency. The Mayans identified cacao with the rain god Kon, and consumed it in the form of a thick, hot, foamy drink made spicy with chili peppers. Much later, around 1400 CE, the Aztecs (who associated cacao with the god Quetzacoatl) were making a similar beverage. Unlike the Mayans, they drank their concoction cold. Not until the 16th century had any European tasted chocolate... and so you see, only in recent history has cacao had anything to do with sugar. Christopher Columbus and the Spanish conquistadors brought it back to the old world, where it quickly became both sweetened and wildly popular. Even the origins of the word "chocolate" can be traced back to the Aztec "xocoatl", the name of their bitter foamy drink. Theobroma cacao, the Latin name for the cacao tree, means "food of the gods." By the mid-1800s, food scientists in Europe had figured out how to process cacao into its modern form: the chocolate bar.  

I've experimented with raw cacao powder and have come up with many delicious and healthy ways to partake. Here are two.

Coconut Hot Chocolate

1 heaping teaspoon coconut oil

1 ounce coconut milk

2 tablespoons cacao powder

Dash of cinnamon 

Sprinkle of cayenne 

Boiling water

Combine coconut milk and dry ingredients in a cup; stir well. Add coconut oil and mix vigorously until the texture is smooth. Then fill the cup with hot water, bit by bit, stirring as you go so as to prevent globbing. Enjoy HOT! 

Chocolate Truffles
1 egg raw yolk
1/2 teaspoon coconut oil
1 tablespoon cacao powder

Combine ingredients and, if necessary, add more cacao until consistency is easily molded and holds its shape. Then you can do whatever you want with it in terms of flavors. (Refrigerate your finished creations prior to eating, since they contain the egg yolk). Below are three of my recent versions: the first has orange peels and clove powder, the second is sprinkled with cayenne pepper and topped with a dehydrated raspberry (grown and harvested by me own mum, I might add!), and the third has cardamom kneaded in and is garnished with toasted sesame seeds and Hawaiian red salt. The possibilities are endless. Go wild.