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BIG DIETARY CHANGES, OH, BOY …

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 7 Comments

Yeah, it seems everyone these days is on some kind of restricted diet. Just try throwing a party or inviting others over for dinner, you soon learn all about it.

My cardio incident has had me essentially eliminating eggs, butter, and cheese from what I eat – three glorious mainstays that now get in only as gingerly applied additives or, for the cheese, in low-fat and fat-free versions. And it’s red meat no more than once a week. Look up the Healthy Heart stuff if you want. I’m trying to be stricter than that, at least for a while.

Simply reading the labels on most prepared products is a horror story. Do you know how many bad fats show up in cookies or doughnuts or, oh my, just about everything snack like? And forget fast food along the highway. No, I’m not stopping at McDonald’s for a salad and having to inhale all that lovely fry-vat grease in the air. At least around the corner there’s sushi. Or a bagel with jam or jelly, no cream cheese, though lox might pass the test. You get the point.

My cholesterol levels weren’t bad before, but since the stent went in, my medical professionals want them even lower. Well, I pushed the profile down sharply in five or six weeks. It can be done.

I’m considering this as perpetual Lent of a Greek Orthodox sort, with a few tradeoffs like red wine thrown in. OK, mine’s not really that strict – I’m not vegan – but I am applying many of the lessons we gleaned from observing a strict Advent back in ’16.

Among the negative tradeoffs is caffeine, which my primary care physician wants cut down to a cup a day, max. I’m there now but do miss the second big mug (café au lait style, heavily laced with one-percent milk and sugar) as well as the midafternoon pickup. A substitute instant brew found at the natural foods store is surprisingly satisfying, apart from its lack of kick. The lingering question is do I shift to decaf, which strikes me like cheating but cuts out the caffeine? Any suggestions?

Well, the caffeine reduction is essential if I’m to address another issue. Will spare you the details, for now. Maybe forever.

At least the garden’s kicking in. A sorrel sauce on the asparagus almost has me forgetting mayonnaise, melted butter, or a runny egg or two atop the spears. Do I cheat with the fresh whipped cream when the strawberries hit in a few weeks? I’m already planning on that low-fat mayo when the tomatoes finally flood us in August – you don’t need the bacon to create a great sandwich, especially if you use basil instead of lettuce.

I hate to sound grumpy. This getting older does have its downsides, doesn’t it?

BRACING FOR THE NEW YEAR

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Much happened in my life in the past year that I haven’t mentioned in the blog. My attention was largely focused on the new novel, which underwent three major revisions, completely changing its focus from, first, what Cassia discovered about her hippie father to, second, what she discovered about her Greek-American family through his photos to, third, finally the way she emerged from the emotional loss and grew stronger and wiser as a consequence. Now that What’s Left (the third title, by the way) is finally released as an ebook (Cheers!), you can tell me if it was worth three years of angst, fasting, and flagellation on my part.

One personal accomplishment was my reading the Bible straight-through at the beginning of the year. I started with Everett Fox’s extraordinary translation of the Five Books of Moses and ended with David Bauscher’s translation of the New Testament from Aramaic, while covering most of what’s in-between in the New Jerusalem version. Wanted to hear it all afresh. My notes from the experience will probably fuel an upcoming series, likely at my As Light Is Sown blog.

Also on the religious front, I attended the entire Holy Week (what they regard as Passover) services in the Greek Orthodox tradition. Outwardly, it’s about as far as you can get from my quietist Quaker aesthetic, but again, it was a powerful way of hearing the story afresh. With the shortest service running about an hour-and-a-half and the longest well beyond that, the closest comparison I could come up with would be Bach’s St. Matthew Passion (nightly) or Wagner’s Ring Cycle, which runs shorter in time and isn’t repeated the next morning. It was a miracle the priest and psalmists had any voice left by Easter. And the final services border on chaotic, wax-dripping celebration. Well, that’s the short take. My one regret is that I’ll never again be able to experience this for the first time.

In late spring, I felt called to assist our neighboring Indonesian immigrant community as a number of Christian refugees face deportation to a land where they fear profound religious persecution. As many of us have found, accompanying them to monthly immigration appointments an hour from home has been a life-changing experience. The vigil outside the federal building has been the biggest ecumenical gathering in the state, with clergy and laity blending together. I’m getting teary simply typing this. A last-minute federal court stay has us hopeful, but nothing’s certain as we await the final rulings. I am so proud that my Quaker Meeting has stepped up to this challenge, supported by at least a dozen other congregations in our corner of the state. Whatever action we take, we cannot do alone, but we feel God’s Spirit leading.

At home, our garden flourished, especially with an unprecedented fall in which the first frost didn’t strike until November 8 — a full month later than normal. We still had our own tomatoes up to New Year’s Day.

Continue reading “BRACING FOR THE NEW YEAR” →

MAY WE GROW OLD GRACEFULLY

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Just a taste of what’s popping up. In case you were looking for a prompt.

~*~

  1. Somehow as a Subway Hitchhiker (at least in my imagination and dreaming) I’ve settled in a small city in a cluster of small cities amid moose and deer and the occasional black bear. As well as the eagle, overhead. Here, with my city farm, as we garden.
  2. Always the Outsider – even when I’m the Leader.
  3. This slow process of learning to trust each other again.
  4. Yet some Wants are also Needs! (To be loved, accepted – even as a writer – even successful or victorious in some manner.)
  5. My Wall is an aspect of Control. (Even if it’s so classic it’s trite.)
  6. Sometimes it seems we don’t play. We don’t play enough.
  7. The pathway is not straight but strait. Not even like a tightrope. No wonder I’m so often off-kilter.
  8. In the beginning was the Plan and the Plan was (as I paraphrase the gospel of John). Yes, simply was. And all we have to do is step into it! As if it could really be that simple.
  9. This is hardly a Literary Life. How different my work would be had I led another existence. Something with more time for serious reading, teaching, refined social circles. Rather than laboring out in the field.
  10. So comforting, this thick terrycloth bathrobe that reaches to my ankles – not a given, at all, when you’re tall. Nice way to round out the year.

~*~

Set for winter. We burn about three cords of firewood to help heat the house each year.
Set for winter. We burn about three cords of firewood to help heat the house each year. As they used to say, “Half your hay by Groundhog Hog,” meaning the amount you’d need left to get through a full winter. It applied to firewood, too.

ANY NUMBER OF WAYS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

he could die now
flattened by wheels
electrocuted, biting a live wire
poisoned
or simple disease
or drown

all the complications, amassed

*   *   *

somewhere, in the limbs
what had riled him so early?
Blue Jay
squawking
could be confused
for squirrels

(What was the opera, anyway? Certainly not Cinderella
with her matching fur slippers)

unlike Cardinal
or those who keep a steady pace
each sunrise

each species      how much     bite off and chew
bury the rest     now     in a fury     neighbors     gain consciousness
take aim     if they can     brush the turret

*   *   *

Was she more rabbit or possum?
“Oh, but possums are meaner – they have more teeth
and they’re sharp” – well matched, in the end

*   *   *

knowing all the same          they’ll be back
dawning alarm not of squirrels but outraged jays
surround a marauding crow

every jay within a mile or two assembles for attack
one after another, they dart at a wincing intruder
that finally departs, offended

already crows lay siege to a mockingbird nest
they pestered before destruction
try as you will, you can’ prevent much

even when striving for balance
still, you undertake what you can
alarmed, yes, and full of frustration,
load and fire the kid’s super-saturation water gun

startle a few squirrels raiding the bird feeder
knowing, all the same, they’ll be back
yet hoping he can prevent them

*   *   *

stripping the black walnut tree
after the strawberries and blueberries
all in their brief season

*   *   *

from the instrument he carries across thin snow
duty said nothing     children, you know

domestic matters and adventures
of mice and squirrels and the manor

gingerbread, the squirrels and rabbits love to nibble

*   *   *

before the endless domestic encounters

Snakes in the basement.
Bees streaming
from the barn’s
loose siding.

I’ve lived many places:
I’ve lived nowhere
but the wind
or the workplace
until now.

*   *   *

keep the shell healthy     for all within
he once thought, ignoring     the empty fruit basket

he would learn there are jobs a man does
as if that, in itself, is sufficient qualification

what does he know     now the world’s shrinking
save for trash removal?     tell him, then, the eternity of hell

is different from the eternity of paradise
one just won’t end     the other seems a flash

it’s no different than becoming conscious

abed they listen     in winter night scratching inside old house walls

all the same      she rolls toward him

he could depart as an old man     baffled by suspenders to his pants
while his wife’s away     having her hair styled

all along, his lady has been a holy terror     as much as any
holy mother     even so, they always get envelopes in the mail

*   *   *

he could be the squirrel at the bay window
or that whistle

Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.

SO THIS IS THE GOOD LIFE?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Why wait for the dust to settle? Here are 10 bullets from my end.

~*~

  1. Is anything more relaxing than sitting in front of a wood fire? Even when it means sitting on the floor?
  2. Gift-buying husbands? Just look! As she says, they’re subjected to indentured shop-itude.
  3. First day of winter and the flannel sheets should be on the bed by now, if not earlier. Flip the mattress and rotate, too.
  4. Our traditional Christmas dinner includes fresh homegrown Brussels sprouts, which means I’m out in the garden harvesting – sometimes in several feet of snow. Likewise with kale and chard: frost improves the flavor.
  5. Let me suggest Mary, as the mother of the church … a slightly different twist on the Nativity story.
  6. For someone who’s lived under relentless deadlines, Christmas itself can be seen as another damn deadline. Or series of deadlines. This year, I think I’m ahead.
  7. Still, I’m deeply grateful for the sense of release – notes, poems, correspondence … the logjam broken … now that the poems and novels are available.
  8. Grandfathers have grandfathers too. In case you’re in one of those inner-child perspectives.
  9. What are the theological dimensions of Alzheimer’s or dimentia? Where are the connections – the response ability – when your story gets so fragmented you’re no longer connected to anything you encounter?
  10. Tell me something true.

~*~

Our own holly, in front of the house.
Our own holly, in front of the house.

YES AND YET

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

The mind dances here and there, rarely in a linear fashion. So what’s on my mind these days? How about counting on these fingers?

~*~

  1. She’s big on Christmas traditions, including our observing Advent these days. I’m still surprised she inherited none of it in her family! Created it like a radical quilt. Makes this array all the more remarkable, from my perspective.
  2. Slush on the windshield. Ice underfoot.
  3. Winter’s setting in, though I’m already tired of it.
  4. The earliest sunsets of the year have plateau’d and are already inching back in my part of the world. The oppressive late-afternoon darkness will soon be obviously relenting. We don’t wait for the solstice.
  5. I like the Eastern Orthodox insight of Mary as the Mother of Light.
  6. In reality, I hate being the caretaker, responsible one, cleaner-upper, put-awayer. Contrary to my self-image.
  7. It’s been a long road to here. Sometimes it feels like a hangover.
  8. In working a seasonal job, she has a curious freedom in not having to worry about being fired, losing the mortgage, and so on. Just put the hours in and go home.
  9. Whatever happened to my collection of winter scarves? (As if I really need to ask.)
  10. Authenticity: something that speaks to the bones.

~*~

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Brussels sprouts are one of our crops that taste sweeter after surviving a good frost. We’re known to harvest some for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, and that can mean having to dig them out from the snow. One year required us to shovel more than two feet down.

CLEARING, FROM SNOW

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

after the blizzard, a raven
lands over our suet and cracked corn bird feeders

and then, while digging out
the driveway
the front steps for the mail carrier
and the barn steps for the grandmother
a pathway to the compost bins, on one side
and the stacked firewood, on the other

I’m at the heart of my universe

while my wife tends the fires
in our kitchen

Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Home Maintenance poems, click here.

IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Being mindful of what’s right in front of us can always be a challenge. Here are 10 new items from my end.

~*~

  1. Hard to think Christmas is so near. It’s just not in the air, at least for me, despite the bell ringers and carols around the stores. But then I’m often off on another planet.
  2. I always intend to put up our outdoor Christmas lights while it’s still warm. Rather than freezing my fingers.
  3. I’ve long said if she would only dance, she’d be perfect. OK, there are few other details I’d add, all these years later. Learning to read music, for one.
  4. Another old fear? If you get to know me, you won’t like me. Or maybe: You won’t like what you find. (That muscular reaction when someone gets too physically close in a conversation.
  5. I seldom I feel myself fitting in – in a crowd, an audience, a group, a family.
  6. NOT THE USUAL … one of my strictures in my desire not to repeat myself in blogging. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Not that I usually remember.
  7. I miss being able to get the Metropolitan Opera broadcasts on local radio. These days I have to listen on my laptop or cell phone. Just ain’t the same.
  8. In a depression.: Do I really LIKE anyone? Being with them? Am I having ANY fun?
  9. Well, I am drinking Virgin Marys during Advent. (Cheers in the morning!)
  10. You were supposed to save me.

~*~

Yes, light snow counts.
Yes, light snow counts. We know what just might be really ahead.

AS SHE REMINDS HIM

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

he’s not a bird
eating fish
or worms

see how frantically he spades
without weeding

how voraciously he climbs out
on the seeded maple twigs

*   *   *

incisor
domestica

rodentia
in residence

*   *   *

a squirrel with a martini
too much     too often
fog in treetops     before the wind blows

how     do sparrows remember
once nested in this eave     before rats or squirrels
found them out?

if it were only hickory nuts for high-fat content     he’d
look shiny      with such thought     snickering abounds     how is it
they acquire a taste for the Big Bad Wolf     who bought the house?

*   *   *

nobody charged extra
for the vermin

*   *   *

in the walls                                        they’re all wild creatures
of course, considering the jerry-rigged affairs
the preceding landholders had undertaken within this plot

(oh, the stories the neighbors were relating, all hinting
at more scandalous expansions now lost to posterity,
nobody could remember much in the way of detail,
except for the wild noises and all the coming and going)

the remaining evidence held no apologies

so what if we live
in cages of our own making?     we still escape
into further flames or muck or fencing, all depending
on the company we keep
everyone’s a social creature,
the chattering
he’d considered birds was more or less
incensed squirrels, tearing about his estate

with that obscene flick of the tail

Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.