Probably to break the resolutions I make on the first! I prefer setting goals and intentions rather than “resolutions”. This year, in addition to the traditional lose weight, be kinder, eat out less and cook more, be present, I have decided to set some intentions specifically for my writing. Not writing goals, but writing intentions. Things I intend to do. I discovered this word and process from my memoir teacher (Hi, Mary!). I’m not sure why, but the word (as well as the idea of) intentions sounds more possible, more do-able, and less harsh. It has a gentle feel of the possibility of anticipated accomplishment. It’s not the boss of me, but it’s more than a pie in the sky.
Not only have I decided to set intentions, but I’ve decided to set actual deadlines for some of these intentions. My blog planner has been supportive of setting an editorial calendar for myself, but firm deadlines are foreign to me, and I’ve decided to change that.
I have so many projects that have great potential, some of which I’ve been working on for years. My Wales journey has journal entries from 1987 where it all began, and I’m no closer to a finished product. I have two very special projects that have great potential: St. Kateri’s Shrines and the Labyrinth Prayer Book (working titles only) that I need the impetus to buckle in and move them forward.
That’s where the intentions come in; with setting definitive goals for aspects of their completion, both of which I can see in the near future.
I will possibly share progress under the “writing” tag, and once the calendar turns over to January, I’ll have the next three to six months of deadlines.
Wish me luck. I know I’ll need it and the moral support is invaluable.
Happy New Year, and happy new intentions! May they remain for more than two weeks.
I will still try to post one of two items before the end of the year, and if you don’t follow my Instagram, you might want to subscribe for a few, quick picture posts. Unfortunately, I am not able to accomplish all that I set out to do in these last two weeks as I have unexpectedly contracted covid. It is mild enough to pass itself off as a cold, but believe me, it wallops you in the end. Test yourself. I was very lucky that my husband insisted that I take the test before going about my meetings, which I deemed too important to miss. However, with the positive coming up, I did miss them and fortunately miss my colleagues and aquaintances with the virus, so that is a good thing.
In our house, we were unable to light our eighth night of candles on the menorah, so when I’m able to rejoin the family tomorrow, we are going to light them then. It may be beyond the eighth night, but light in the dark is always welcome, especially in these days of war and strife.
Open every door. Look through every window, around every corner. Where there is no light, bring light. Where there is light, bring more. Brightly shine. See the wonder: in every season, in every holiday, in every person you meet, in every day and every way. Shine bright. (c)2023
Yesterday, we lost a pioneer and advocate in the mental health awareness field. Rosalynn Carter was instrumental in beginning the fight against mental illness stigma as well as growing the awareness of mental health issues. She openly talked about her depression and spoke out when it would not have been in her best political interest to do so. She, like her husband, President Jimmy Carter always did things in a way that worked within their consciences through their compassion, empathy, and faith to make the world a better place, one project at a time. Whether it was Habitat for Humanity, the Carter Center, peace initiatives, teaching Sunday school, they worked as a team, full partners, supporting each other in both their shared and differing priorities. She was a good and faithful servant and may she receive her reward and rest in peace.
With Thanksgiving coming up this week, many of us are spending the day (or even the weekend) with family we may not see often, and it can be a wonderful day, but it can also be stressful and draining and you want to maintain the strides you’ve already made in your mental health journey. With the death of First Lady Rosalynn Carter, I am reminded that our mental health journey is ongoing, and we can and should refer back to our advocates and mentors as well as those we may not know, but those who have influenced our journeys as Mrs. Carter has done for me, especially with her independence and her openness on her own mental health struggles and journey.
I have five tools that I want to share with you to add to your mental health toolbox, especially for this holiday season.
Whether you’re at your own home or someone else’s, find a safe space where you can go to take a moment to yourself to catch your breath, regroup, and motivate yourself to go back to the social group. If you’re a praying person, this might be a good time to have a prayer or mantra ready to steady your way for the next go round.
Have a plan for your drink choice. Even for those of us who do not have alcohol problems, it’s easier to know what you want to drink. It’s one less thing to think about or umm about. Personally, I’m a fan of Diet Coke and/or ice water. My hot drink is tea. It is also more common to bring your own water bottle to places. Know that it’s also okay to say no, thank you.
It’s okay to sneak off to the bathroom and watch a video on your phone that will settle your anxiety.
Speaking of your phone, it’s also okay to check in with that one person who knows what to say to create a comfortable space for you within the holiday-social responsibility bubble.
Wear something you love. I find that when I’m dressed in my comfort clothes, I feel better about myself, and I project myself better. Part of my own comfort clothes are my mother’s ring, a colorful scarf, a long, cozy sweater, a pin (which can also be a conversation starter if that’s what you want it to be), or my rainbow shoelaces.
Know that the holiday is just one day. You’ll talk, you’ll laugh, you’ll have moments of discomfort, you’ll eat dinner, and it will be over before you know it.
Have a beautiful Thanksgiving, and may the warm feelings carry you through the rest of the year.
A few days ago, the honoring of Native American Heritage Month began. Like Indigenous Peoples Day, I think this is timed for us to remember that there were both sides to Columbus’ landing in the New World and how we perceive the Thanksgiving story. The Thanksgiving story in and of itself isn’t as problematic to my mind as other European centered celebrations. We know and should acknowledge that the English settlers could not have survived their first (and to be honest, many subsequent) year in a new land without the help of the Native Peoples they met and who helped them immensely. I have always been a history buff and drawn especially to people of my own heritage and Jewish ancestry as well as people I feel somewhat paralleled that history including African- and Native- Americans. One of my favorite books as a child is The Magic Tunnel by Caroline Emerson. It had everything a young me could want in a book: time travel, the NYC subway system, NY history, American Indians. The perspective is of about a fourth-grade child’s view of history, but it’s a fun adventure for the elementary school age and a great jumping off point to discovering what’s true in their depictions and what is not.
As I’ve grown and became more of an in-depth reader, I’ve been exposed to more and more books about Native history both by Native and non-Native scholars. Living in New York state my whole life, we have a rich history of the Iroquois, and every place I’ve lived has had several towns still using names found from and in the variety of Native American languages found in the state. Some examples include: Shinnecock, Massapequa, Copiague, Hauppauge, Schenectady, Oneonta, Oneida, the Mohawk Valley, Chautauqua, Ontario, Otsego, Tioga, Cheektowaga, Ticonderoga, and of course, Niagara and Manhattan.
Over the next few weeks and through the end of November, I hope to offer you some resources to expand your knowledge of Native American history and culture as well as books, movies, and photos that you can enjoy in your explorations.
About a week ago, I was asked to give a meditation for what’s called an Ultreya, a gathering of Catholic Cursillistas for community and fellowship. I elected to read a Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address. It is called Ohen:ton Karihwatehkwen, which are the Words Before All Else. This is recited before any gathering or ceremony. At the beginning, prior to starting the reading, I explained to them that this is often different each time it’s told as it depends on the speaker to choose their own words. I explained that I, however, would be reading it. Two important things I stated before I began were who the Haudenosaunee were; we knew them as the Iroquois, which is the French word assigned to them by Canadian and French missionaries, and that we were currently on their traditional lands, the lands of the Mohawk. I also stated that I am not Mohawk, nor am I of First Nations descent. I have included a statement on my FAQ page.
I think it’s important to acknowledge whose land we’re on, and if we’re speaking authoritatively or in entertainment or spiritually, that we acknowledge when we are not Native and/or Indigenous People. I will also use Native American, American Indian, Native Peoples, Indigenous Peoples, and First Nations interchangeably unless asked specifically not to.
As we celebrate what we view as the first thanksgiving, it’s important to remember that the English settlers didn’t “give this tradition” to the Native Wampanoag people they met. The Native people across the continent had harvest festivals and days of giving thanks for their harvests towards the end of the fall and the coming of winter. This is what they shared with the settlers.
For my own Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my family and spending time with them, but I also think back to the historical first thanksgiving and look back on what could have been and look towards that future.
In this opening for me of Native American Heritage Month, I give you a few places to visit and learn from:
Killers of the Flower Moon – the movie is in theatres now, and it was wonderful. Don’t be scared off by its length; I barely noticed and easily sat through the whole thing. I also read the book about a year ago. I highly recommend both: Book
Since I’ve been sharing quite a lot about Kateri Tekakwitha, I thought I’d share this older picture from when I tried to visit her shrine in Quebec at the Kahnawake Village of the Mohawk Community. I had been searching for a chaplet of St. Kateri and was unsuccessful before my trip. I had planned to pray the chaplet for my Cursillo friend who was living his Cursillo weekend while I was away. Since I didn’t have a beaded chaplet, I drew one (left side), and brought that with me to pray at Kateri’s empty tomb, located across the street from the church of St. Catherine of Alexandria.
It was a very emotional and spiritual site, and just like in New York near the Mohawk River, I could hear the rapids from behind the empty, marble coffin, a sound similar to the sound near her baptismal spring at her Fonda shrine. I was there in contemplation for some time and prayed the chaplet from my sketchbook. Upon arriving home, I was able to locate a beaded chaplet, which I will pray today for St. Kateri’s feast day.
Kateri is the patron of the environment, fitting as Indigenous people are the caretakers of the land, as well as a patron of others including Indigenous People and ecology and people in exile.
On occasion, I will flash back to my childhood, and hear something that I haven’t heard or thought of in forever. One of these childhood phrases was “porkchops with applesauce.” I’m sure this is from The Brady Bunch, although I don’t recall if it was Greg or Peter who said it.
Applesauce was a favorite in our house. In fact, I’m sure we ate pork chops with applesauce. We also ate roast beef with applesauce. Nowadays, I usually make it with gravy, but recently, since my daughter doesn’t like beef gravy, I offered her applesauce. This is a roundabout way of inviting you into my thought process for a dinner I made this week that came together when I was visiting Cracker Barrel restaurant. They have fried apples on their menu, and they also sell them in cans with the recipe on the back. I bought one can to go with the on-sale center cut pork that I bought this week, and we had a lovely (even if we used way too much butter than is healthy) meal.
The fried apples recipe calls for two tablespoons of butter; I think I used twice that? I used half a stick. Melt the butter, add the entire can, sprinkle cinnamon, mix, heat, simmer.
After searing the pork on both sides, and adding a bit of adobo seasoning, I poured a helping of the fried apples on top of the pork, added a side of mixed vegetables, and buttered egg noodles, and voila, yummy dinner in no time. It was about half an hour, but that’s not long at all. No leftovers.
I don’t know anyone who gets enough sleep. Like my kids, I stay up way too late, and even with intentional naps, there is no way to catch up on missed sleep.
I slept very late today. I hadn’t intended to. I went to bed early with a stomachache, and slept until I was refreshed, which was quite late. I needed the sleep apparently. I was surprised at how much I needed it considering I actually got a lot of sleep over the weekend.
I had the privilege of attending a weekend retreat guided by Terry and Darlene Wildman. You’ll hear more about them (and the retreat) in an upcoming post. The retreat was centered around the First Nations Version of the New Testament, and the weekend was filled with music, Scripture, prayer, and really good, deep conversation. I usually have a difficult time settling down on retreat to sleep. Even though, I’m very comfortable at the retreat house, I just can’t quiet my mind. This retreat gave me the exact opposite experience. I went to sleep every night before midnight (sometimes long before) and woke up refreshed at around seven in the morning, with an alarm, and the sunrise out of my window.
At the end of the retreat, I had another event through the Cursillo movement. I had to drive out, and on my way, I decided to take a quick stop at the St. Kateri Shrine. I was so close, and after the weekend enveloped in Native spirituality, I felt the pull to sit on that holy ground, near to where St. Kateri was baptized. I decided to face the seven directions that we prayed with (East, South, West, North, Above, Below, Inward), and after a few more moments, I proceeded with my drive.
I wasn’t tired. I was refreshed. Except for last night’s stomachache, I felt great, and didn’t think I needed any extra sleep or naps.
My body told me something different.
This is my reminder to you that even though you may feel fine, feel rested, feel awakened, your body may tell you something different. Try and take the opportunities when they arise to get the rest you need, whether it’s deep sleep, resting your eyes, sitting in nature with no other thoughts. Rest, not only your body, but your thoughts.
The photo below is the (four) directions I faced at the St. Kateri Shrine. East begins in the top left, and follows the direction of the sun, what we now call clockwise.
Passover, Easter, Spring Break, Prom Season. So much to do, including cooking. Holiday cooking plus the regular everyday cooking that we’re expected to do. These last few weeks had me teaching, my daughter working practically every day after school, my son trying to break the world’s record for most movies seen in a month (kidding), my husband’s job is one person short, and no one wants to cook dinner. They also don’t want to pay for take out or fast food, and frankly, I don’t blame them. I thought I would take this Friday Food to share some shortcuts and new things to try.
Everyone knows about cooking two meals on Sunday and then eating leftovers. I try to make one big meal a week, like a roast beef, a pork loin, or a whole chicken. They make a great meal, and then they make great leftovers. All of them can be eaten as sandwiches later in the week with a side of chips and cole slaw. If the first night is mashed potatoes, the next night can be rice. My daughter likes Minute Rice, but regular rice is very easy to make. I got the recipe from The Kitchen Survival Guide by Lora Brody and while I’ve changed some things, the gist of it is the same.
Stagecoach Mary (Mary Fields of Cascade, Montana) Public Domain
Stagecoach Mary was a mail carrier on a star route between Cascade, Montana to St. Peter’s Mission. She held two four year contracts with the United States Postal Service beginning in 1895, and received her stagecoach that she drove to deliver the mail from her friend, the Mother Superior of an Ursuline Convent, originally in Ohio, but now missioning in Montana.
I should also mention that she was the first African American woman to carry the mail (only the second woman to do so) and in her time she became a Wild West legend.
Sounds intriguing, doesn’t it?
Mary Fields was born in 1832, most likely in Tennessee, into slavery.
As times change, so does language. Since I’ve been in school and up until recently, we’ve referred to the “slaves” in the South (or elsewhere in the world). This denies the people their humanity. It tells the reader/listener that their only value was as a slave; that they are slaves at the heart of their being. But of course, that’s not true. They are people first. Men, women, and children who were kidnapped and enslaved and their children born into slavery and enslaved. These two links should help with the explanation:
She was freed with other enslaved people after the Civil War. From that time, she worked as a servant and laundrywoman on riverboats up and down the Mississippi River. She worked for the Dunne family until the wife died. John Dunne sent her to live with his sister, a nun and Mother Superior of a convent, where Mary lived and worked. She became very close with Mother Mary Amadeus Dunne and after Mother moved to Montana to mission with the Jesuits, Mary eventually followed her and helped nurse her back to health.
As if that wasn’t enough, Mary Fields wore men’s clothing, drank, smoked cigars, shot guns. She was tough and intimidating, two traits needed to be an independent contractor working alone on the frontier.
At some point, the bishop barred her from the convent after an altercation with a co-worker/colleague involving guns. To be fair, I can’t imagine that it would have been palatable for a man to be answering to a woman, an African-American woman and that may have played into some of the friction between them. Of course, it can be hard for any two headstrong people to work together.
It was then that she contracted with the Postal Service to become a star route carrier. She drove her stagecoach on the route with horses and a mule named Moses.
Star Routes were named such after their motto/mission of Celerity, Certainty, and Security in delivering the mail. They were denoted on paper with three asterisks: * * *, thereby becoming “star” routes. This name was renamed Highway Contract Routes in 1970.
She retired from her role as a mail carrier when she was 71 and lived on in town becoming one of the more popular figures of Cascade. She was praised for her generosity and kindness, especially to children. When she died in 1914 at 82, her funeral was one of the largest ever seen in the town.
She was very popular – schools closed on her birthday. When an ordinance was passed disallowing women from enjoying the saloons, the mayor exempted her. When her house burned down, volunteers rebuilt it.
Born a slave somewhere in Tennessee, Mary lived to become one of the freest souls ever to draw a breath, or a .38.
Gary Cooper, Montana native, writing for Ebony in 1959
December is full of different types of food to fill the days of the different types of holidays we celebrate throughout the month of December. Recently, I went to a Festival Of Learning and had Latkes with applesauce (personally I love applesauce AND sour cream with my latkes) for Chanukah and Mexican Hot Chocolate with Molasses cookies for La Posada, and tonight (if it doesn’t snow) it will be something wonderful to celebrate Kwanzaa.
Our family Christmas traditions revolve around food and my husband’s traditions. Christmas Eve is Chinese take-out for dinner and Christmas morning breakfast is Dunkin’ Donuts. For dinner, it’s his mother’s tradition of a proper British carve up: roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, carrots & peas, plus a few of our own favorites. One year I made Yorkshire pudding which is both intimidating and easier than you think it is. She always made Trifle, which I have not even attempted.
Griffins and Ginger Snaps 