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The weather has given us a break, and the girls and I took a hike this past Saturday. It was lovely. We got home and both the girls fell asleep by 6:30 and didn’t wake up again until the next morning!
Start with a nice blue sky.
Add a warm hilltop breeze
Two lovely little girls
A release of penned up energy waiting all winter long
And a few soft smiles
One portly little cat who follows along behind like a dog
Neglected hunting cabin
That had to have once been loved
A few open old deep mines
An old logging road
Big old maple leaves
A couple of rolled over rocks
Blow one last kiss to the sun
“You must speak straight so that your words may go as sunlight into our hearts.”
– Cochise (“Like Ironweed”) Chiricahua Chief
I’m going to try to speak straight here and everywhere. We can manipulate language in so many gratifying and harmful ways when we are fluent in it. We can make the truth read/sound a thousand different ways. Sunlight too, comes to us in unique and varying ways. It can be just enough to warm us on a day between fall and winter. It can beat down on us relentlessly with its burden of heat and sweat. When words touch our hearts they feed us – our state of being. They allow us to form opinions, to react emotionally, to prepare for great triumphs or damaging winds. To render ourselves steadfast. Cochise just asked that we talk straight. We talk straight so that our words feed our hearts like sunlight. So that there is fairness all around.
Summer has become that overbearing master once again. Restricting us indoors. The garden is out of control, though still producing well. Peace from the summer sun is hard to find, and you become a worshipper of conveniences like air conditioning. Deladis absolutely hates the summer sun, and though she wants to play outdoors, she cannot. Her skin is really sensitive because of the eczema and she sweats which makes her itch. Her face turns apple red, and then she starts to feel poorly. Ivy is restless from being cooped up like the hen and diddles. She takes an evening run through the living room and into the kitchen, slamming against the door and back again, like clockwork, everyday sometime after dinner. We only have a wall unit a/c and a fan, and we don’t turn it on until about noon everyday, and turn it off again at night. Our cabin is not extremely cool. We try our best to acclimate for summer and winter. We tend to freeze or burn up when we visit our family. But, right now, indoors is the safer place for us. This is the first summer since living at The Confluence that it has been this way. Though I remember many summers like this.
The sun zaps my energy. As a child I tried to play softball, and would end up vomitting on the field because the sun makes me sick. I’m no different now. It’s why I love the mountainside. The shade. The cool breezes. The altitude. What is harder on me this summer is that I’m not well. I’ve been reluctant to post about it here. I am a believer in what you put out into the world is what you will get back. People tend to avoid those that don’t feel well… or pity them too much. I’d rather not deal with either of those things. Writing about it here is more about talking straight. Writing about things being difficult, my patience being short, or my being tired all the time would be just complaints without being honest as to why. I don’t want to complain. And, I’m not trying to feel sorry for myself.
John and I do without some things in order that the girls can have them, or that I can stay home and be the primary caregiver of the girls. One of those things is health insurance. So, I’ve put off seeing a doctor for a detailed workup of my health for sometime. However, we’ve saved and worked it out so that now I can, and I am relieved. I’ve been so angry at the fact that I should be healthier than I have ever been in my life. My lifestyle, my diet, my physical activity are all joyful and healthy. Yet, I feel awful many days. I have horrible headaches that don’t go away, sometimes nagging for days. I’m always tired. It’s a challenge to keep up with my chores. My moods are up and down. I have stomach aches. I’m dizzy…. etc… The doctor says at this point she knows that it is my hormones and my glandular systems that are causing the trouble. Nothing contagious. Nothing that keeps me from doing my best. Tomorrow, I go for a blood draw for something they are calling a whole panel. This will give her a whole picture and then we’ll go from there.
I’m excited at the thought of feeling better. Of restoring my body to proper function. Healing mind, body, and spirit. Wholeness. I know any improvement I experience comes from my Creator, and the journey is of most importance. It is a way to grow. It is to be accepted and worked on from a place of peace. Being able to just go through the outward movements of going to the doctor, getting results, is allowing me to release the anger at the problem. I’m hoping it will help me to be still as well.
I suppose I’ll write some about it here because it will be my focus for sometime. And, as the summer brings other exciting things I’ll have share some of those too. Opportunities are everywhere right now. I don’t know whether to chase them all or pick and choose. 🙂 The Creator will give me the work of my day upon the unfolding of it.
Introducing Little LuLu
Have I ever said that I prefer cats to dogs. This one is a darling.
First, you start with real good garden soil, a set of plant starts, and eventually you will have a gorgeousness that looks like this.
When the first pea pods appear, they will be tender enough to put in the skillet without steaming first. If you like peas in the pod, you’ll leave them on longer, but to make this dish, you’ll need to string them, and/or steam them for tenderness.
Make some bacon. A whole pack is nice because you can eat while you cook. I prefer to buy bacon free of nitrates or nitrites and sugar when I can find it. Sautee some onions in bacon grease until they start to brown.
Then, add the washed pods and peas.
Cook them over medium to high heat until they are fully greased and tender. The amount of grease you use depends on your tastes. I use the whole pan from making the pack of bacon. When tender, crumble in some bacon and serve.
You’ll notice that this dish is similar to the Appalachian green beans and kilt lettuce and onions. Pork was a mainstay of the Appalachian diet, and used to flavor many dishes from cornbread, beans, to greens. Because chickens provided eggs and cows provided milk, they were not butchered as regularly as hogs. When not eating pork, or chicken for Sunday dinner, Appalachian peoples ate the meat of hunted animals including, rabbit, deer, squirrel, wild turkey, opossum (some folks didn’t care for it), and groundhog (has a reputation for being greasy). In our family we eat rabbit, deer, and wild turkey, as well as fish caught from our lakes and streams. I prepare a traditional foods diet for my family most days. I have found that if we eat foods that we are genetically predisposed to tolerate, then we have better outcomes physically. My family has lived in the mountains for generations. My ancestors were Irish and Cherokee primarily. My husband’s were Melungeon. By keeping the traditional Cherokee and Appalachian food ways we were familiar with, and researching those that had been lost to industrialization we have found healthy eating. Being involved in where your food comes from both animal and plant forms, is extremely rewarding.
I’m wonderfully optimistic about the year to come. I think I’m finally coming to an understanding of what it means to let go and let God. To kick off the new year, I have decided to start a series of posts on things we have a right to know about (in fact in many situations our life depends on it), but for whatever reason they are kept “secret” whether through planned secrecy or by tactful exclusion of information.
John and I spent the evening on the couch last night watching our new Netflix arrival – Food, Inc. . I’ve been waiting on this movie since it came out a while back. This film demystifies our current system of industrialized food and the problems that arise from our expectation of fast and cheap food.
It was a little over a year ago now when a prolonged illness of mine prompted me to switch our diet to a traditional foods diet as proposed by The Weston A. Price Foundation and authors like Sally Fallon and Nina Planck. Since then, I have noticed a tremendous change in my health and well being along with that of my husband and children. I have lost and maintained a 100 pound weight loss (though I was already losing weight before changing my eating, I contribute most of it to traditional foods). I have more energy. My gums no longer bleed when I brush or floss my teeth. But, the most noticeable for me is my relationship to food. I no longer fear food making me fat, because I know that what I am choosing to eat is real food and not something fabricated in a factory. I enjoy my food and I eat plenty of it. I’m eating things the diet industry tells us will make us obese and sick – butter, bacon, red meat, and whole fat dairy.
This approach to eating (I don’t call it a “diet” in the terms of how most of us view the word) has changed my life so completely that I can’t help but get excited about sharing it with others. However, all to often I have noticed people don’t want to hear the truth about where their food comes from, and I tend to get tuned out. Instead of accepting that there is a problem here and we are in need of huge change as a society, they continue to eat from the conventional store shelves food that more often than not is some kind of factory made variation of corn or soy bean products and they wonder why they are sick with things like diabetes, cancer, high blood pressure, heart disease, or obesity. Why is that?
The fact of the matter is that we have a right to know where our food comes from and under what conditions it is being processed for our consumption. Our food is life. What we put into our body directly affects how we are able to live our life. However, now that our food supply is being controlled by just a few multi- million (billion) dollar corporations that treat their farmers and factory workers like second class human beings, who don’t care at all about the health of the animals they process for meat, and treat our meat, produce, and dry goods with a variety of chemicals to give them unnatural shelf lives, we are being kept in the dark of food practices that if they were public knowledge would incite the citizens of this country to demand a change.
The truth is that 1 in 3 children in this country born after 2000 will develop diabetes. 1 in 3 children in this country are either considered overweight or obese. Low-income Americans (under $30,000) a year find it hard to afford a healthy diet. This comes along with the idea of fast food being cheap. You now can buy chips for a lesser price than a head of broccoli, and then there are dollar menus at fast food restaurants. The question of food availability also arises. Living in rural Appalachia, I find it extremely difficult to find food I feel is appropriate for my family, and I have to make too many compromises.
Our country is facing an epidemic that is inexcusable. We owe our children a better chance at a healthy life than this. We owe it to ourselves as well. While industrialization has brought about many good changes in our way of life, when its principles are applied to certain more personal areas of our lives, we find we are detrimentally affected by its lack of concern for the greater human good as opposed to the low cost production industry holds so dear. A few profit from the loss of many.
After viewing this film and others like it, I can’t help but encourage others to become informed as well. Know where your food comes from. Know that in one pack of ground beef there is meat from 50-100 cattle. Know that most chickens raised for commercial slaughter for companies like Tyson never see the light of day or feel grass under their feet. In fact, they are lucky to be able to bear their own body weight on their brittle legs. Know that the tomato you are buying that is so pretty and red was shipped to your location in many cases over thousands of miles, and picked while still green. It was ripened chemically. Know this, and decide to change it. There are farmers out there with answers to this problem. We can have normal, affordable, healthy food. We can live without the fear of food related disease. Arm yourself with knowledge. Then, cast your vote for the foods you want every time you choose your purchases at the grocery.
I wrote yesterday a little bit about my finding my way to yoga. I’ve been toying with yoga for about ten years. I’ve never really had what I would call a “serious” practice in that time period. That is if the criteria for “serious” is incorporating all eight limbs of yoga. I practiced more as another variation on the word “exercise”. The closest I ever came to really doing yoga was during my pregnancies with Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa and Shiva Rea DVDs along with some studio classes. I was more about tuning in with my little beans than tuning in with God or my inner self at that time.
I really enjoyed the Gurmukh DVDs during my pregnancy, and when I realized that the type of exercise I was doing (high intensity aerobics) was exacerbating my health issues (thyroid, stress, and exhaustion), I started with her. The type of yoga she teaches is called Kundalini yoga. Kundalini yoga is the most ancient form of yoga and was introduced to the west by Yogi Bhajan in 1968. Kundalini yoga suits me very well because while I need restorative exercise, I really like to exert myself. Kundalini yoga allows for both. It is appropriate for all people in all types of conditions and age ranges.
I’ve been exploring the different aspects of yoga and doing Kundalini and Vinyasa styles. In my search for an authentic, traditional life, I place great emphasis on doing things the way they were meant to be done. I have been researching the “real” way to practice yoga. I have found that it stand aside from religion, and I have found it extremely helpful in reconnecting me with my own spirituality. I’ve been using my yoga time as prayer time. I am a Christian, and the original mantras work so well for me. My favorite right now is Sat Nam – truth is my name. It is such an uplifting thing to repeat as praise, a reminder, or a prayer.
I have bred in me an unrest. I see impatience in many members of my family. The impatience leads to worry and stress. It has really affected my mothering. I am so impatient with the girls. For over a year now, I’ve been trying to beat this troublesome attribute with not much success. Yoga is teaching me how to go about ridding myself of it. Many of our problems come from alienating the various parts of ourselves. We think of physical, mental, and spiritual parts of our being as different and often conflicting. Yet, one part can’t work properly without the other. We can’t know our full potential in this life without working to connect them all. We can’t rely totally on ourselves either. There is much more to life than us.
Gurmukh says something that I used as my mantra during my savasana time today. “Let go and let God.” As I heard John caring for our girls in the background, instead of wishing for peace and quiet, I embraced what was going on. I let go of that impatience and I let God take care of me. I can tell you right now, I was in much better hands.
* Update: I wish I could let it go everyday. That will be a never ending goal. Today has been a trial.
I am shifting my priorities once again as some things are becoming quite clear to me. My first responsibility is to my family and my home. That is all there is to it. Always the needs there come first, and as my daughters are getting older I am needing to grow in some areas of my mothering – most importantly in discipline. My work around our home needs to continue with added fervor. As much as I have the grand desire to “be” a writer, I have to realize that I need to have patience with it, and make the time I spend pursuing my writing count. I’ve wasted too much time in this area of my life, mainly on the computer. I don’t like being on the computer much, so it’s no wonder that it makes me anxious much of the time I’m on it. The truth is I “am” a writer whether or not I am spending eight hours a day writing or only two doing it. As long as I am working toward something, progress will be made.
Yesterday, I harvested all the remaining scallions and carrots. They were turning too ripe in the ground. 
I scrubbed clean and topped all the carrots and washed and and chopped all the onions. I ended up with 3 gallons of carrots and 3 pint bags of chives and a gallon of bulbs. John is hoeing the area where these were planted as I type this, and we are going to put in some fall crops. I have plenty of seed for the planting.
I also am putting away more cucumbers as pickles.
We ate some on our burgers last night. They are so yummy! Check out the newest post at Nourished Kitchen today to learn more about ferment canning and pickles.
With all the changes going on in my mind, and some regret, my thoughts are scattered over here and yonder. I’m torn between little time and all the things I love because of this feeling of immediacy. My children will only be small once. My husband and I will only have this year together once. I only have so much time to pursue all these dreams. Time is so infinite and yet so finite as well. I wonder if it is wrong of me to place so much value to what I do while a resident of earth. It doesn’t matter in the end… does it? I mean, as long as I leave the smallest of footprints, serve the God of my beliefs, and raise the next generation well. Anything else is a side note.
Other than my family and my home, my next priority has to be to my health in both the physical and emotional aspects. I have another doctor’s appointment coming up to re-check my thyroid. I never thought I’d say I look forward to a doctor’s appointment, but I do. I’m tired of not feeling normal. In seeking health, have really developed a fondness for yoga more and more as the days pass. It is a great form of combining the physical with the spiritual. I feel like I am more open to hearing God, and I find myself seeking my Creator with a renewed enthusiasm. Yoga is perfect for the busy mama in that in its true essence you are combining the physical, mental, and spiritual components of your body into union. You are destressing, becoming fit, and praying all at the same time. Yoga means “union”.
When my family is happy, my home comfortable, and I am at peace with myself and the life my God would have me to lead, then anything else I want to do in my life will have a stronger foundation. It will grow from a place of confidence. It won’t manifest out of some fear that if I don’t do it now that it will never happen. The final product of anything I do in the creative realm will be better.
Growth is the ultimate goal… for all of us.
This week has been nothing but storms and rain.
Tuesday, I went to a new doctor about my thyroid and exhaustion issues. I came away with orders to rest and a prescription for Synthroid – a synthetic thyroid hormone medication. I’ve been taking it now for three days and have been nearly out of commission all three days. Today(Thursday) has been by far the worst. I’ve either been on the couch or in bed all day. I feel spacey, dizzy, nauseated, and physically listless. My moods have been all over the place, but today I’m generally peaceful. I’ve tried to get anxious a few times, especially when I realized I just couldn’t muster the strength to exercise, but quickly decided it isn’t worth it.
I have been told by other members of the family who have to take this medication that the way I feel is normal until my body adjusts to the hormones that it has been going without. I am noticing two positive things since starting the medicine. It is easier to sleep and my dreams are very vivid, and my breastmilk is letting down faster and my supply of it is up. I so hope this medicine works for me, because I hate medications and pharmaceuticals are at the top of the list, but I need healing. I’ve tried the vitamin and herbal supplement route with no results for this particular situation.
Having been forced to slow down has made me a little reflective. I’ve played with the girls, given Ivy her first haircut, and written quite a bit on my novel.
1st Haircut - and my poor attempt at using John's professional camera
I have only exercised one of the three days and have realized that I am probably overtraining and should take a break. I’m interested in looking into natural movements and bodyweight exercises to bring myself more into what our body needs naturally when it comes to physicality. I haven’t cleaned anything in the house, but washed and put away a few clothes. I am coming to the realization that hormones are powerful things, and in order to be the best I can be at anything, I need to listen to the messages sent to me by the body that I’m in.
Now, I am struggling to find a way to get more sleep. The doctor said that even if my hormone levels improve I won’t feel better without proper rest. How does a mother with two children neither of which sleeps through the night and one of whom still nurses find uninterrupted sleep? I’m forever trying to figure that one out. I haven’t slept through an entire night without coming to consciousness at least once in four years. I’ll take any advice you have for me there.
This forced stop has made me forget the momentum of the pressures I have put on myself that did not work. I am choosing to go with the ups and downs of the day. I am choosing to listen to the natural rhythms of life. I am choosing to not just keep my spirituality in mind for a set time in a day, but to parent from a place of spirituality (again thanks to Breedermama). I’m going to focus on what I do get done in a day and celebrating the little things. I’m going to spend more time being present with my girls, talking to them and guiding them. I’m going to work on my novel and not waste time doing meaningless things on the internet or otherwise. I’m going to work on my house chores a little bit a day and come to terms that I won’t have an immaculate house, and when I do I’ll probably be missing the pitter-patter of the little feet that used to make it so hard to clean.
One day soon, I’ll feel better. These endlessly raining days will be over, and I’ll be starting with fresh ground. All because I was finally forced to stop.
The following series of blog entries are compiled from my journal writings during my recent trip to research the historical background of a novel I am working on loosely based on the life of my Cherokee great great grandmother. There are seven days and each has an abundance of pictures. Hope you enjoy the ride.
Day One:
Preparing our little home for us to be away for ten days was more work than I had expected. We woke to rain and weird red bugs all over the potato plants, feasting away. I worked non-stop all morning and through the afternoon. Our departure time of noon was shot down. We left our holler around 5pm.
The trip to Spartanburg was wonderfully uneventful. Driving through the mountains brought an easy peace to us. The girls were happy and quiet. My body released all the aggression I had been holding onto all day. We had a nice dinner in Johnson City at a Cracker Barrel. Surprisingly, I found suitable food there (or just inside good enough), and we all ate good. Dark clouds threatened rain that never came. We arrived at my family’s home around midnight.
Day Two:
Today, the plan was to be with our kin. That’s exactly what we did. Ivy and my Papaw hit it off as I thought they would. Deladis spent hours playing with an Ewok village that I had spent hours with as a child. She did some painting too.
I took a three mile run, and came back with an awful headache. Lack of sleep really gets to me. We didn’t get in bed until almost 2am. That, coupled with weak coffee brought on a migraine that progressed in intensity through the day.
We lounged and talked. My Mamaw showed me the best picture of Arizona (great great grandmother). It gave me chills to see her in such a regal stance. She was amazing to look upon. Her native features were clear. Her unsmiling lips just soft enough to reveal a proud contentment.
I found out she married around age 16 on Walden’s Ridge. Looking at her brought new face to my journey. I’ll never know the real story, the whole true story, but the one I will imagine will be inspired.
Day Three:
We arrived in Calhoun, GA around 7pm. The four hour trip was interesting and felt very commercial. When we got close to Atlanta, the interstate was lined with billboards. Some were digital and changed advertisement every few seconds, which is something I had never seen. Overwhelming – almost.
There is always a little insecurity that comes with traveling to a place unfamiliar. We left my family this afternoon after a yummy lunch. I fought tears, the urge settling somewhere in the spot where my head connects to my neck. Deladis didn’t want to go and I didn’t want to take the girls from them so soon.
I wonder how Arizona felt. A young girl of 14 or 15 setting out alone through the mountains in an unfamiliar way. Leaving her brothers. The mountains here are more foothills. I’m looking forward to seeing how they grow as we enter into Tennessee. The motivation was apparently too strong and overshot any fear she might have had.
Mamaw shared a letter written in Arizona’s hand in 1919 to her brother Walter that she had left behind. Her husband had been killed in the mines in 1918, and she was writing of wanting to move to a farm in Ohio from where she was in east Kentucky. She had to be attached to the land. She lived in town in Hazard, KY. I know I was always finding safety and solace in the hills as a kid, when I was troubled. I can imagine her wanting that comfort back, seeking it. I don’t think she saw Walter again after she ran away. It had to feel lonesome sometimes.
Now, as the girls play on the hotel beds. I think about where she slept her first night on the run. I’ve been disappointed with this establishment since we got here. The place is in poor shape, the pool is closed and unkept, our coffee was an empty wrapper, so we have none, and there is some kind of reddish brown bodily fluid splattered on the bathroom door. I wouldn’t have expected that of a hotel in this chain. At least we’re together and safe – joyful. I think of Arizona, alone – so young and totally alone.
I know… corny title, but hey, I have a fog machine in my brain and it is good at pointing out the obvious and that’s about it right now. I have two things to write about today and I can’t decide between the two, so I’m writing about both.
First, I have to share this website with you. Why Don’t You Look Like a Fitness Model? I have been seriously thinking about what a naturally capable and fit woman’s body should look like since I wrote the post on A Woman’s Perfect Body and Paleo women. I found this website and article via a discussion forum I frequent and was really amazed by what this woman wrote and the pictures she posted on the site. The pictures are of a variety of women athletes who competed in the Olympics. As she states, you’re at the top of your game physically if you are competing at that level. Their bodies were as varied as fingerprints and all ranges of gorgeous. I highly suggest reading the article and looking at the pictures. It isn’t about trying to achieve the look of someone from a magazine, but the look that is right for you. There are a lot of factors that go into that.
And now… da ta ta ta… I present to you a new work of art by a blossoming new talent in the world of painting… Deladis Rose.
She is so happy when her daddy lets her have a piece of water color paper and turns her loose. She will sit for hours, so focused and poised. I’m amazed at how involved in her work that she becomes. I’m thankful for her having the gift of focus. I can’t wait to see what she does with that. I’m a proud mama.
A Mountain Mama - East Kentucky Gal 