A visual log of a year of fruit and vegetable purchases, comparing local and not local produce.
The Art of Surrender
Everything is temporary, so make it beautiful and then make it disappear completely. —Tarin Towers
A recent thought to reflect on, given in yoga class, was to consider three qualities of yoga: discipline, self-study and surrender. We were asked to consider these three qualities in our practice and in our daily lives.
Did we experience them in equal amounts? And if not, did we notice any patterns in their fluctuations?
As often happens with these reflections, I both wince and smirk, as if my hand were caught in the spiritual cookie jar. My inner witness no longer allows me to get away with complacent thinking. These three qualities are woefully out of whack…most of the time. Chief among them is surrender. I need more self-study like I need a hole in the head. Discipline waxes and wanes—I berate myself for its lack, and at other times I fail to recognize my discipline because I take the activity for granted. But it is in surrender that I fall short.
As Eckhart Tolle points out, surrender does not mean giving up, being a door mat or never expressing your opinion. It means not resisting against what is. It’s our resistance that causes suffering, not the thing we are resisting. This all sounds rather lofty. But it’s a simple concept, profoundly difficult to apply. Some of us see surrender as loss of control. Instead, surrender is the embodiment of control (the good kind) because outside forces aren’t able to sway our thoughts and feelings. Often we stay stuck in non-surrender mode because we are righteously attached to a self-image.
For example, a person with a self-image of a caretaker may have difficulty letting go of control over every element of a holiday dinner. They may well be caring, but more likely, there’s an unexamined fear going on in the background—like the loss of their over-identification as a caretaker. Who would they be without the image?
A client, whose project is a rush, fails to reply to your emails. You break a leg before your tropical vacation and are forced watch others frolic. Your outdoor wedding is hampered by a downpour. Your succulent seedlings are attacked by slugs. You can’t sit down to paint or draw because you’re plagued by fears of not good enough. While resisting in these situations can result in frustration and disappointment, true surrender can elicit a sense of freedom. It may even reveal an otherwise missed opportunity.
Many creative types are too attached to results and so, they don’t bother creating. This made me think of the many types of temporary art where surrender is a built-in ingredient. From Andy Goldsworthy‘s work in twigs, sand and ice, sidewalk chalk art, to sand sculptures—they all disappear because of the elements. Some temporary art is deliberately destroyed, like Burning Man sculptures, Tibetan sand mandalas and even gorgeous cakes (I tried to get permission to post a Goldsworthy photo but this is better). Though indulging in this last one doesn’t count as difficult surrender! A high-school friend and artist at heart, with little time to create, is making Daily White Board drawings and erasing the results. When I asked her what was appealing about this process, she said, “Erasing reminds me that life is fleeting… move on, enjoy the moment…” Indeed.
(Clockwise from upper left) Tibetan monk erasing a mandala, a DaVinci sand sculpture, a cake in homage to Andy Goldsworthy, sidewalk art in NY city.
Spring Sunday To-Do List
1. Make rhubarb rosemary mini galettes.
2. Draw pictures of yesterday’s farmers market produce.
3. Rethink strategy to keep cats out of garden bed.
4. Harden off seedlings.
5. Deliver galettes and bean starts to friends down the street.
6. Return to garden store for more potting soil. Inquire about plans to reward customers who spend too much money there.
7. Pick up library book to add to the stack.
7. Put the sand paper next to the dining room chairs in the vain hope that the chairs will one day be resanded, repainted and recained.
8. Finish tilling the garden bed.
9. Do yoga because your back hurts from tilling the garden bed.
If time allows, work on business plan.
Getting Raabed
If you’re lucky enough to have a good farmers market nearby, as we are in Portland, you might see all sorts of raabs (or rabe)—kale raab, collard raab, even Brussels sprout raab. But what are they?
They are, simply, the flowering stems of the plants that fall into the very large family called brassicaceae—the cabbage or mustard family. In this family are vegetables like cabbage, cauliflower, kale, broccoli, turnips, mustards, kholrabi and radishes.
Many are familiar with broccoli rabe (also known as rapini, cime di rapa, broccoli raab, broccoli di rape, among others). But while broccoli raab has been bred as its own distinct plant (and in the same cultivar group as turnips), these other raabs are the flowering stems of the plants—the kales, collards and Brussels sprouts, for example.
Just as herbs bolt, flower and then go to seed, so, too do these plants. For example, Brussels sprout raab are the flowering stems in spring from the fall crop of the vegetable. Once upon a time, these rabes were considered “farmer food” and were among the few greens still growing in late winter. They weren’t considered good for market mainly because they’re not available long enough for grocery stores to bother.
But times have changed. People are willing to try new things. And farmers are willing to bring rabes to market.
The varying textures of the stems, leaves and flowers are appealing, as are their color variations. Each tastes slightly different and most are more mild than broccoli rabe, which can be quite bitter. All are very nutritious—and include vitamins like C, A or K and potassium, calcium and iron. And many have anti-cancer properties and are high in antioxidants.
One of the best ways to cook raab is to boil just til the stems are tender and then drain. Heat some olive oil in a skillet, add some crushed garlic and a pinch of red pepper flake. Add the rabe, tossing with tongs till coated with oil and seasoning. Add salt and pepper to taste and a squeeze of lemon.
In Southern Italy, broccoli raab is eaten in abundance, and one of the most popular dishes of the region is Orecchiette con cime di rapa. Give the anchovies a try even if you think you won’t like them. Like fish sauce in Vietnamese and Thai cooking, they’re meant to add depth, not impart a fishy taste. Follow this loosely—varying the amount of pepper, anchovies and greens. Rapini cooks down much like spinach because it’s mostly leaves. You can also download the recipe.
Recipe: Orecchiette con cime di rapa
serves 4
1 lb. orecchiette (little ear-shaped pasta)
1 or 2 bunches broccoli rabe (rapini), washed, roughly cut in 2-inch chunks
1 or 2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 to 6 anchovy fillets
Good pinch red pepper flake
2 T olive oil
Optional: fine bread crumbs
Salt to taste
1. Put a big pot of water on boil with plenty of salt.
2. Lay the whole bunch of rapini on a cutting board and roughly chop into 2-inch (or so) sections—using the greens, stems and buds. It will seem like a lot but it cooks down. Rinse and drain the greens, leaving a bit of water on the leaves (for steaming during saute).
3. In a big skillet, heat the oil and saute the garlic, anchovies and red pepper. Don’t let the garlic burn. Using a wooden spoon, smash up the anchovies till they melt. At the same time, add the pasta to the rapidly boiling water (both the pasta and the rapini take about 10 minutes, so you can do them at the same time).
4. Add the rapini to the skillet and saute over medium heat. You may need to allow some to wilt before adding the rest. Add a little salt (not so much because the anchovies have salt, as does the pasta water). Cook the rapini till the stems are just tender, but not overcooked.
5. Halfway through the pasta cooking, scoop out about 1/2 cup of the pasta water and set aside. Cook till just tender, or al dente, and drain.
6. Add the pasta to the skillet with the rapini, stirring to combine well. Add some of the reserved pasta water, the starch of which combines with the olive oil to create a sauce. Add salt if necessary.
7. Serve sprinkled with some fine breadcrumbs. This dish is excellent with a Primativo or Salice Salentino (both hearty reds from Puglia).
Note: You can try boiling rapini first and then sauteing, but I find that sauteing alone is sufficient and the rapini is less soggy (the stems of rapini are less woody than some of the other rabes). Some recipes call for sausage, and some call for parmigiano (a little odd since Italians don’t normally mix cheese with fish). In other words, look for other recipes and experiment. It might seem strange to serve with a hearty red but the dish is hearty, and Puglia is not known for its white wines. An inexpensive Salice Salentino is available at Trader Joes.
The beauty of simple
As I stared at my growing stack of books yesterday, the ones full of important ideas I should stuff into my brain, I was distracted by my seedlings. I planted seeds just five days earlier and all were sprouting. Some were meant to go directly into the ground but, just for kicks, I stuck a few beans and corn kernels in the soil plugs, in addition to a variety of herbs and tomatoes. Ever since I started this activity a few years ago, the seemingly endless grey, rainy season in the Northwest has been more bearable.
It’s often said that the best things in life are free, or at least don’t cost that much. This can’t be more true for sprouting seeds indoors. It’s cheap entertainment. Aside from a few bucks for seeds and seedling mix, all you need are some containers and a sunny window. Lifting up the plastic dome each morning is like peering into a living jewelbox. Got bored kids or kids glued to their electronic devices? If I hadn’t had anything else to do yesterday, I would have been happy to stare at my Italian romano beans growing. Below is what happened over five hours.
Today the sprout is four-and-a-half inches tall. I have corn growing right next to it. Corn! I couldn’t have imagined corn growing in my suburban Maryland neighborhood where I grew up. It makes me wonder what other unquestioned, limiting ideas I have.
Though I get immense pleasure watching the simple, but profound, life span of a minescule seed turn into large, red tomato, I can’t help but wonder if that giddiness is a sign of too much of a lack of it in other corners of our lives. Most of us know the delight we get from the simple and the unexpected. So why is it that we continue to plan for the complicated?
The best laid plans…
…of mice and men go oft awry (English translation) from a poem by Robert Burns called “To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough.” It was the inspiration for the title of John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men.
This is just another way of suggesting we live in the present, a practice that is worthy if only because, as implied above, we have little control over outside circumstances that can conspire to cheat us of our desired results.
That’s not always a bad thing, and it may even better than achieving our primary goal. But most of us are so focused on the hoped-for prize that we don’t notice we might have gotten something even better by not getting the prize. This is true whether it’s taking a trip, planting a garden or drawing a picture.
Often we are so sure what our primary goal is, and for good reason. Some situations depend on good planning and intended result. Without them, we might be acting carelessly. But assuming there is nothing huge at stake, how often do you find yourself focusing on what went wrong when you don’t get what you intended?
After a grueling breakup, for example, when you’ve picked up the pieces of your life, you might realize you are much better off. In fact, maybe the ending of that relationship caused you to try something you’d always wanted to do. We all know that what seems bad at first, naturally diminishes with time. And that any situation has its costs as well as its rewards. This is not to suggest that living on the street, for example, is preferable to living in a house. But living in a house does come with responsibilities like fixing leaky roofs and paying utility bills.
All things are not equal. But not all things are as unequal as we think.
Appropriate mourning and adjustment periods aside, what if we recognized not six months or a year later that we aren’t so bad off, but in the moment? What if we remembered that there is always a positive outcome, even if we don’t quite know what it is going to be at that moment?
If you’ve ever been a slump after losing a major project or been annoyed that your trip to Venice was derailed because of train strike, you probably know the amount of negative mental energy you expended. Perhaps this lasted only a few minutes. Other times our obsessive thoughts last hours or even days. But losing that major project might have meant a summer free from working nights and weekends to meet a crazy deadline. Not making it to Venice might have meant discovering an untrammeled little town with phenomenal food.
To some, brushing off unintended results might be second nature. But to others, the primary aim might often seem like a non-negotiable. This idea hit home to me when I first started becoming aware that all undesirable situations have some positive outcome. Once I realized that the secondary results were as good or perhaps better than the primary goal (which are almost always different from one another and, therefore, easy to miss), I started paying more attention.
Then I began putting the idea into action before the primary goal (say, winning a major project) was in sight. I found that simply because of that mental shift—that reminder that if I didn’t get A, then (unknown) B will happen—the amount of obsessing over the loss was greatly diminished. Don’t get me wrong, I still get very disappointed. Often it’s at those small irritations in life, like a store being closed when you most need something.
But since life almost seems to guarantee that our best laid plans will go awry, a little practice in non-attachment can go a long way. You never know which unintended goodie you’re missing while you’re spending your time kicking yourself.