Kitchen: Melting Pot

Kitchens are getting more and more like the melting pot of America. We now have Mexican pizza, Korean/Hawaiian sliders, Korean tacos, Chinese fries and Southwestern everything. Fusion is the new age word that comes closest to describing this fairly new culinary technique. I find that this opens up so many new edible ways for me to be so creative with a medium that I have to buy anyway to survive.

Master Dowser.....

Before my father died he taught many people the art of dowsing including myself. It almost felt like magic the first time the rods moved on their own in my hands. That feeling will stay with me for the rest of my life. My father was a 'Master Dowser' who not only found water, he also moved water from nearby veins into dry wells and away from basements to dry them up. Plus he dowsed for missing people or pets and he could dowse using a map. One of his interesting techniques was to dowse another person's property without actually being there. My father would have the person walk the area as he visualized that person walking while holding his dowsing rods. When the rods crossed he told the person to stop. He would then ask the rods for the depth after first determining if the water was good for drinking. He would even give them the approximate gallons per minute. He had a good percentage of success no matter if he was actually there or not. Many local newspapers and magazines interviewed him for their publications and he visited many local schools to show the kids how to dowse. I still have many of the letters sent to him from his clients telling some pretty amazing things he did for them. He also followed up on the sites that he dowsed to make sure that they still had water and everything was as he told them. To my knowledge, not one of his dowsed wells has gone dry. He used all kinds of dowsing devices made of wood, plastic and metal. He died in 1993 and was so well known that my sister still gets phone calls from people around the world asking for him.

Silence.....

The coolness of the night had made it's way into my apartment via the intake mode of my fan in the window to the point where it woke me up two hours earlier than I usually do. I'm one of those people that need a noise of some sort to help me sleep. It's the a/c, the fan or my noise machine that I use for that purpose. This time I was so cool that I had to get up and turn the fan off and then the loudness of the silence was apparent. I decided to go back to bed without turning anything on. After a few seconds the absolute silence became a welcome place to be. Not even the refrigerator made a sound. I became aware that it's been a very long time indeed since I heard this amount of silence. When I lived in the country I heard it many times during my early morning, walk the dog, days. I was surprised not only by the fact that there was no traffic, no people talking on the street below or no sirens of any kind, but I was also becoming aware of the fact that not the smallest hint of a breeze was there. And also no early birds were singing, cats yelling or dogs barking. There was only me and the silence. A silence so peaceful that I just lie there with extreme contentment. It became obvious that I haven't been aware of the amount of noise that I've become used to. I swore to myself that from now on I'll try to listen to that silence more often because of that feeling of total connection to myself and Mother Earth.

A Thought

Upon awakening today I had a thought. I thought about a thought and thought how many times a thought leads to another thought and to another until the original thought wasn't there to think about. With this thought coming to mind I decided to think about this thought and not think of any other thought. I thought more about this thought, just the thought and nothing else. It didn't take long for me to think only of that one thought, but it did take a while to keep my train of thought on this one track. With this one thought I was meditating. Think about it.

The Sahara of Tillson....

I was pretty young when we moved from Port Ewen, New York to Tillson, New York, about six years old I think. Along with one boy living next door and the many cats living in my Grandparent's garage, was the sand pit just across the street. This was one of the two places in Tillson where they were getting sand to build the New York State Thruway. For a short time the machine they used was still there to fill the trucks coming each day, and then they were gone and my newest best friend and I had a place to explore and use as our stage for our imagination's. Most of our time was spent throwing dirt bombs at each other or imagining foes who had come out of the past or future to fight the mightiest of foes, namely us! Everyday, when it didn't rain, we used the sands of our Sahara to the best use that we could think of. At the day's end we always took some of that Sahara home with us to share with our Mothers who gladly swept up the dirt that didn't cling to our skin, lodge in our hair and hid in other places too numerous to mention. The sand pits are now invaded by the outside world and hold many homes to new explorers to maybe find some our remains that we left as kids.

Not Happy....

After my wife died many people have asked the question, "Are you Happy?" I'm sure that they're trying to help me in some way by asking. I gave up trying to find just the right answer that would really tell how I was truly feeling. Most times I just ended up tying my tongue in knots and ended up saying, "Yes". Maybe with the written word I can fair better. Here goes. Imagine you're taking a trip with that special someone in your life. The excitement has been building ever since you decided where you wanted to go. Each day the excitement builds more and more until the point where you feel that little kid inside of you wanting to jump up and down. On the way there you're both talking about what you can do and hope for fair weather. Upon reaching your destination you look around and face the horror of not finding your partner. They're nowhere to be found. Then the reality of knowing that you will never again see them sets in. Do you really feel happy to be at your destination? Now imagine that you can't go back home. You're stuck in a place that has now become more like a nightmare than the pleasant dream that you had of it before. Days go by and you find yourself exploring your new surroundings. You meet new friends, take up new hobbies and even feel better. Happy is a word that I still find difficult to use instead of better. Yes life goes on and I enjoy seeing each new day, but the word 'happy' isn't in my vocabulary at the present time.

Life Writing

Life writing for me is like attending a life drawing class with a mirror in the middle of the room for me to see me. At various times I'll see more of this or that. The light of my mind's eye will give subtle variances to enhance or diminish what was seen before. Catching that moment with words is my quest. Within this quest are more quests waiting to found by a deeper understanding that comes from my life writing quest. With one word at a time I'm beginning this journey among the many family trees on Mother Earth. Each one has an impact on another. Let's begin...