Scared Katydid

I brought a basil plant indoors to make pesto, and a katydid hopped on to the counter. I managed to capture her, and she wandered around my arm for a minute, but the whole encounter obviously scared the s**t out of her.

Fear is running rampant in our society right now. The question is: Am I going to pick it up? Or am I going to leave it right there--in the TV, on the radio, in the newspaper? I don't have to take it on board.

Yes, it seems like fear arrives in the mind in the middle of the night. That's one reason i have a policy: No mention of politics and no news after sunset. I know what exacerbates fear in the middle of the night--too much news, which gives rise to a feeling of powerlessness.

The katydid hopped off my arm and onto the deck. Enable your mind to hop off of fear.

First Frost Finally Falls

When i woke up at 5:30 and the temperature was 33 degrees, i had a faint flicker of hope. But after an hour of meditation, the verdict was in. Frost. Frost after all. Yes, i expected frost, but denial is strong. Delusion hopes not really. Not yet. But yes. Yet. Now.

Only for an hour or two. But that hour is sufficient to kill the impatiens, the zinnias, the basil.

No use imagining excuses. If only.... But i could have.... If i'd only known.

Frost is. This is the is-ness of this morning. Frost.

No excuses.

Pure Green

I made almost a gallon of parsley pesto and stored it in half pint containers. That means I have a dozen containers in the freezer, which translates into a dozen meals of parsley pesto pasta this winter.

Parsley pesto--just the paste of parsley plus olive oil that comes out of the food processor--is so green. It's St. Patrick's Day green. In contrast to basil pesto, which turns brownish-green when it comes in contact with the air. (i.e., almost immediately). Parsley pesto loses its strong parsley flavor and fades into the background, mixing very comfortably with garlic and Parmesan.

I'd like to emulate these qualities of parsley--it maintains its purity in the company of others. It even antidotes the garlic!

Too often, in the company of others, we are carried away by their unskillful behaviors--gossiping, complaining, drinking. We pledge ourselves to act more in accord with our conscience, but then.... Belonging to the group overrides our best intentions. Sigh. Our behavior turns a bit brown around the edges.

One verse of the Greatest Blessings Sutta that I read for 2 different Thanksgiving services, says:

Avoiding those of foolish ways,

Associating with the wise...

These are the greatest blessings.

Perhaps we can't or don't really want to totally "avoid those of foolish ways." They may be people that we dearly love. So, for balance, we spend more time associating ourselves with wise people. Oh, that feels so much better, even though we "only" feel friendly; we don't love them particularly.

"The wise" can give us the strength of character that we need to practice our good intentions in public. We might even, in an unseen or low-key way, antidote the unskillful behavior of others.

Oh, that pure green parsley pesto is so beautiful.

Substituting Kindness for Complaining

Since we went to a community Thanksgiving dinner, we don't have any leftovers. So I tried parsley pesto pasta for dinner. So delicious! And so green-green.

Instead of basil, I substituted a half pint of the parsley paste I made 2 days ago. Instead of pine nuts, I used walnuts. As usual, I used garlic, Parmesan, and my own sun-dried tomatoes.

When we substitute a good habit for a bad habit, we develop our strategy before the bad habit strikes (again). For instance, we substitute loving-kindness for irritation, impatience, and frustration.

Lauren, my step-daughter, has Asperger's syndrome and is very sensation sensitive. In her new apartment (and she has had 3 new apartments in the past few months), the downstairs neighbor, an old man, turns his TV quite loud. Instead of complaining to the management,  Lauren took him a pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving. (She's a very good cook!) She chatted with him and noticed that his TV is not loud in his  living room. She substituted kindness for her usual why-don't-people-understand-what-I-need attitude.

What a delicious and refreshing change of habit, change of heart.

Reprieve

Still no frost. Frost is predicted every night this week, and still it doesn't freeze. Today feels like a reprieve from a death sentence. A rally during the death vigil. How much longer?

For death is coming to the garden. How could it not? Last evening, I made my last batch of basil pesto. The basil is gone. Well and truly gone.

But today, we have one more day, this day to enjoy the tender annuals. One more day to pick zinnia and dahlia bouquets. One more day to glean vegetables from the garden.

If you had one more day to live, how would you spend it? What would you do? How would you be?

That one day is today. This moment. Now.

Photos from williamsburgfloral.com and jackiejacobson.com

Hard to Swallow

"It's time to make pesto," i tell my neighbor.
"Oh, my basil turned brown," he sighs.

Wait a minute. Isn't "brown" basil dried basil? The stuff you buy at the grocery store?

Yes, the prime time for making pesto would have been August, but once those late-September green-with-brown-spots basil leaves are chopped up in the food processor and soaked in olive oil, my taste buds won't know the difference.

What else do we reject out-of-hand because it doesn't meet our standards of beauty or pleasing-ness?
We can even reject a spiritual path or outright wisdom because it rubs us the wrong way. Oh, no, we think to ourselves. That can't be right.

One friend, for instance, rejects Buddhism because, she mis-quotes, "'Life is suffering' can't be right. Why, life is beautiful!"

The Buddha tells us that stress exists. It's a difficult-to-swallow message, but we don't have to look to far to see that, yes, our life is stressful at times. The Buddha then offers us a remedy--a path to not only reduce stress, but to release stress altogether.

You don't have to swallow the whole path at once. Just take bite-size pieces. Just for today, notice stress when it happens.

Now, i'm going back to making pesto because i salivate at the idea of swallowing that :)

Photos from shawnacoronado.com and greenmarketrecipes.com

Big Basil and Little Basil

The basil in my Herb-Flower-Vegetable Medley Garden is looking great. It's ready to harvest. Meanwhile, the same basil in the vegetable garden is about 3 inches tall.

I planted them on the same day from the same 6-pack. What's the difference?

The Medley Garden is a brand-new garden just out the back door. Last fall, i filled the reconstructed beds with cow manure. The veggie garden basil? Hmmm. Well, maybe it didn't even get a dose of compost this year.

What kind of soil are you planted in? Is your life producing an abundance of joy? Or stress? Or both?

Our habits of mind can give rise to weedy thoughts of complaining or of wanting something else. Or we can focus on feelings of kindness, joy, and gratitude. Where are you placing your attention?

I'm focusing on the great-looking basil out the back door. And yes, i'm going to give some attention to that pathetic basil with some compost tea.

Photo from shawnacoronado.com

Storing Life Away

We had our first fire in the woodstove a couple of mornings ago, just to take the chill off.  Even though it's not really cold yet, it's time for long sleeves and long pants. I'm storing summer clothes away bit by bit--shorts, short-sleeved shirts, tank tops, capri pants.

Out in the vegetable garden, i'm trying to store summer away. Last night, i made lemon basil pesto and stored it in the freezer.

We try to store our lives away--in photo albums, on Facebook, in memory, on flash drives. These give us the illusion of a continuum. We think we can just reach back and touch our past. Yet our lives actually unfold moment-by-moment.

That person in the picture that you take to be you is actually non-existent. We could say she's "dead." The photo reminds us of how we used to look--when we were 5 or 18 or 30 or even yesterday. But there is no way we can reach out and touch that person. She is gone, gone, gone.

Now there is only this person, with a memory that is happening in the present moment.

Thai Food

When i go to the Farmers Market, i always stop at the Thai food booth and buy a red curry and a fish custard as take-away.

Now i'm harvesting Thai basil and freezing it as pesto, so i can make my own Thai food.

Meditation is a do-it-yourself exercise. You can't go out and buy a calm mind, no matter how many times you go to hear the Dalai Lama (or any other guru) speak.

I love Thai food, and i love the Dalai Lama. Now if i can just love meditation enough to sit myself down every day, i'll soon be harvesting the flavor of a spiritual life.

Photo from www.kalynskitchen.com

Harvesting Before Frost

The race is on to see how much i can harvest before frost. This morning's temperature was 40 degrees.

Really, there's not too much left in the garden, and that's good, because there's not too much space left in the freezer.

The tomatoes are in, leaving just a basketful of cherry tomatoes on the vine. The winter squash are in, but one gourd vine went crazy. I try to bring in one gourd every time i return from the garden. Then there's my 8 varieties of basil.

We plant many seeds during our lifetime--friends, family, career, spiritual path, service to others. Which shall we harvest? And which do we just let go of?

Many friends come and go. Our career ends. Family changes its definition: our parents die, our siblings drift into the distance, wives and husbands divorce, our children grow up, our grandchildren live far away. Who is our true family?

Our spiritual path may ebb and flow, yet gives us the ability to harvest kindness, mindfulness, and equanimity, no matter the season.

Basil Pesto

I'm making pesto, 1/2 pint at a time. I go out to the garden, harvest a few branches of basil, bring them into the kitchen, and grind them up in the food processor with olive oil.

In the past, i have overwhelmed myself by picking too much basil at once, then getting distracted, and eventually returning to a basket full of wilted leaves.

The small-steps method means more steps out to the garden and back, but, for me, it's more strategic than the extravaganza method of harvesting 3 or 4 basil bushes and then being overwhelmed.

Mindfulness leads us to small steps of insight and gradually awakens us so that we can let go of one stressor and then another.

I'm letting go of the idea that i have to harvest all my basil before frost. One branch at a time, one half pint at a time. So far i've frozen a gallon of pesto.

Photo from www.greenmarketrecipes.com

8 Kinds of Basil

The basil looks great just now in the height of summer. Each plant has developed into a small bush.

In May, i managed to collect several varieties--ordinary sweet basil, purple basil, opal basil with mottled green and purple leaves, Thai basil, lemon basil, lime basil, cinnamon basil, and the small-leaved globe basil.

Now, of course, i can't keep up with all of this burgeoning basil.  Pesto pasta for dinner one evening, Thai curry the next. Cinnamon basil? How the heck can i use that?

All these basils of the fruits of desire.  In May, i planted a dozen of each. Fortunately, i found only one cinnamon basil plant. Now i'm overwhelmed with the thought of harvesting all these basils.

This is what happens: We get what we ask for. And it turns out to be stressful.
We were so sure that this thing we wanted (basil, in my case) would make us happy. (And i am very happy to eat it.) But we didn't notice the underbelly of the object of our desire.

Notice it now. Feel the stress. Notice that it's a thought. Only a thought. It comes. It goes.

Let's go out to the garden and pick some basil :)

Photo from www.herbcompanion.com

More is More Stress

Yesterday a friend brought me 2 huge Hogheart (paste) tomato plants. Friends who came for dinner brought me a 6-pack of Thai basil with about 2 dozen seedlings in it. My vegetable garden is already bursting at the seams. Where am i going to put these new plants?

This is the stress of stuff. More seems like better, but then what are you going to do with it? Stress over it :)

I stash my to-be-planted plants on my front step so i'll remember to (a) plant them and (b) water them. My front step is looking cluttered. That's another stress of stuff.

Less is more.
More free time. More relaxing. More money in your pocket. More time for meditation and mindfulness.

I'm giving away half of my Thai basil to a Thai-speaking friend. Ahh. There's the joy of giving.

Photo from goodmindseeds.org

Harvesting. Or Not.

In May, a vendor at the local Farmers' Market offered 5 different varieties of basil seedlings for $2/paper cup. So i bought all 5 types. (Desire.)

Regular basil

Purple basil

Lemon basil

Thai basil

Sacred basil aka Tulsi

Just imagine the delicious pesto, fish, or Thai curry i could cook! (Delusion)

Since summer is full of vacationing, by the time i settled down at home in late August, the basil was flowering. (Aversion, because you're supposed to pick basil BEFORE it flowers.)

Yesterday i harvested the lemon basil, put it through the food processor, and froze it in little containers. (Happiness.)

This morning i harvested the purple basil.

But does anyone really want to eat purple pasta? (Doubt.)

Today i'm turning my attention to sacred basil, which has a very slight anise undercurrent to the main basil flavor. Hmmm. Licorice pasta? (Doubt AND aversion.) In the Ayurvedic system, sacred basil (tulsi) is used to make teas and tinctures. (Desire for a good idea.)

Harvesting continues in fits and starts. Doubt, aversion, and worry slow me down. Sense desire (pesto!) speeds me up.

Bringing mindfulness to the harvest of your garden, what do you find?

What vegetables or flowers languish?

Which vegetables or flowers actually get picked?

Once they are picked, what happens?

Tiny Tastes of Calm

Deb Lazar showed me around her community garden plots--she has 2 and her husband has one. She has a fantastic crop of basil. It's only 1-inch tall at the moment, but add rain and sun, and soon she'll have a forest of basil bushes.

Our meditation practice is like this: we start with a 1-second taste of calm. Notice that one second. Revel in it. Sink into it. Paying attention to momentary calm is the rain. Coming back to the cushion is the sun. Yes, some days, like today, are overcast, and maybe even one second of calm doesn't show through the clouds of mind chatter.

Keep tending that momentary calm. By the end of the summer, you'll have a crop of it.