Choosing Housemates and Guests

Fresh fruit in Alaskan winter feels like a decadent blessing--notice the date on the plate, which seems more reasonable; notice the snake on the plate.

There's turmeric brought back from England, too, like the last time I went. Last time I brought turmeric back it was the harbinger of hard times for me physically, and the same again now, or worse. So many scientific studies are bogus because they claim, for example, that cholesterol causes heart disease, confounding correlation "a happens when b happens" with causation "in the presence of/because of b, you get a." Today's lesson. Returning from England with turmeric and having my weight/food relationship in free fall have happened together twice now, but that does not mean the one causes the other. There is a much bigger picture to be taken into account. Lots of other fruit on the plate--and the snake.

This has been such a rich week in terms of Internet-based offerings in the setting intentions/personal development arena. I could have listened to great audios all day every day. And there's still more to come! We've had intention setting, nutrition, manifestation, sacred journaling, yoga... Next week, there's The Future of Nutrition Conference, with five days of talks--the first four days twelve talks on the hour EST (I guess I'll be waking up early), the fifth day "only" eight. I'm always relieved that they offer 24-hour replays in case anything's actually going on, you know, in my "real" lift. I'm looking forward to this one because there's a dizzying array of nutrition experts, from low-fat vegan promoters to paleo dieters, from raw vegans to low carbers. I love the opportunity to listen to such a spectrum of views in short order; it enables me to note commonalities, spot fallacies, notice what I'm attracted to.
I've been taking notes on the other summits/webinars, and  I'll share some in my next post.

I'm grateful to have had those guests into my temporary home. They're ephemeral visitors, my sojourn here is temporary, and yet listening to them has offered me some modes for creating stability.

Another guest I had in this house was less welcome: a mouse. Having lived in the jungle with rats and centipedes and biting ants in the bed, you'd think mice would be no big deal to me. But man, I was so upset! Last summer I had a serious mouse problem in the small-dark-room living situation I had then. They got into my stored food--I'd inadvertently left some nuts and other mouse-attractants in plastic bags instead of glass jars. But the little buggers ate into my bag of cinnamon, my nori sheets, my spirulina, and other things I'd never have guessed a mouse would eat! Between the damp/dark/smell/irritation, I guess I grew some antipathy back then. 

There was only one mouse, and I chose to expel it from this space; I didn't want it as a room mate. But ever since it was here, I've been seeing mice everywhere! Moving shadows, my hair in my peripheral vision, passing hallucinations...all mice!
My wise mom told me once, "If you have unwanted guests, don't entertain them, and they will leave." There's nothing lying around for a mouse to eat here. Not even the phantom mice.

Here are the housemates I did choose. I mentioned sprouts before. I now have some little clover greens, one or two milk thistles, sunflower sprouts. They struggle in the yellowish light here, reaching eagerly and leggily toward it. I love how the sunflower sprouts loop up, still with that black seed cap on their dicot leaves, hands clasped in prayer.

I was sat on a chair beside this table, writing, and heard the sort of soft-fall noise that usually startles me and is sometimes hallucinatory. It was the sound of one of those sunflower husks dropping from a sprout, the liberated leaves opening out. Hello, hallowed.

Kokopelli on the Water, Eagle in the Tree

This was the view from outside our cabin this morning...

And here's my newly much more ergonomic workstation from which to view it! More ergonomic--I didn't say "more tidy!"One of my journals doubles as mouse mat, and there are maybe three other notebooks in view, as well as at least four "in use" books and drinking vessels perilously close by.

It was a pretty big low tide, and that gravel spit on the beach below reminds me of Kokopelli when it gets exposed--land and water in a musical dance. So cool that the curlicue of ice drifting west almost mirrors the Kokopelli shape of the land! Yes, all kinds of elemental metaphors there.

It's the fourth day of thaw here, and there are supposed to be a couple more before it cools down again. Still a lot of snow everywhere, but it's packed down and pockmarked, and paths are icy. Phil hacked little heel-shaped divots here and there in the paths, without which it would be a near-straight luge run from the cul-de-sac all the way to bluff's edge!

Phil actually went a little ways up this tree today too, trying to get a good photo of the iceberg pictured above. He claimed the tree wasn't slick at all, being dried out from the cold, but I found that hard to believe with every other outdoor step being a slide.

I watched this eagle for quite a while, before our neighbors' big goofy dog came galumphing down and it decided it had better places to be.

Even if just for a few moments, and with camera in hand as an excuse, it was good to pause and be.

I still have a sore throat and runny nose, and am still not much for sleeping despite that. Maybe the cold comes from teaching, but also many people close to our recently bereaved friends, themselves included, have come down with some similar coldy-fluey symptoms. Today has been a day in which I've worked hard but illogically. I have two extra pieces of editing this week besides my normal jobs, and a packet due in just less than a week, and I kept finding myself compulsively translating Greek dictionary entries when that's the one job with no current time pressure. I begged off socializing tonight to stay home, nurse my throat, and finish writing a lecture, and now "the isle is full of noises," the weasels are having a party in the insulation, the rain pounding on the snow falling off the roof, and the only way I can escape full-on paranoia is either to lull myself with translating or to go work on a poem.

I think I'll go finish my last few slides for the lecture and then write. Be back Friday with a super-easy and good recipe.