Cooking metaphor #54810

attempting to let things "cool" on top of an in-use oven is counterproductive

pea protein and plagal cadences

was apparently singing along with the blender this morning. i was in the kitchen making a smoothie and all of a sudden i got goosebumps and couldn't figure out why. then i realized the song i was singing, before i even turned on the blender, was in the same key as the noise of the blender and together we had just made a plagal cadence.

maybe it's time to be in a choir again. clearly something is being repressed.

The simple act of bending at the waist

In 2011, my life has much resembled that of a retired person--I am well compensated for working very few hours a week, have early evenings, late, slow mornings, and during the day I mostly commune with persons over the age of 60. In Europe I went to the markets about the same time as the retired, lived in the apartments of retired ex-pats, and here in South Korea I spend my mornings hiking the trails near my house, along with--you guessed it--the Asian elderly.

On these trails, with these older individuals, is where I first really encountered the Korean custom of bowing when saying hello. It happens lots of other places, (like when walking into a store, encountering a teacher/student/boss/coworker, etc) but it happened with alarming frequency whilst hiking. Normally, in a culture of respect and deference such as South Korea, I would be the one bowing to people older than me, but I think the combined shock value of my caucasianess/height/relative youth and the strangeness of my presence out and about during normalperson work hours, just squeezed out a bow.
I  soon realized that the culturally appropriate, respectful thing to do would be to bow back. So I made up my mind to do this. Every. Single. Time I saw an old person.

This is how I came to realize a strange truth about myself: I am an awkward bow-er.

In my defense, I've not had much chance to practice. I come from a culture where the mantra is to "Stand/Sit up straight!", "Shoulders back!", and my favorite "Stand Proud". And so, when it came time to bow, with humility and deference, to demonstrate respect, I realized I look really, really weird. I think they noticed my awkwardness, but appreciated the thought. Most people smiled (definitely a laugh-AT-you kind of smile, but still very sweet) and returned my "annyeong hasheyo" ("Hello, How are you?") with kind and happy eyes.

Repeating this process, probably once every five minutes on an hour and a half hike, caused another realization: I am a proud person. I don't like to be wrong, I don't like to feel ignorant, I don't like to be out of the loop, and I feel really uncomfortable bowing to others. Like my body just sort of grimaces and spazzes out when I do it.

But it was the smiling eyes of the elderly that won me over. Then the metaphors came flooding in, as metaphors are wont during long hikes in beautiful places. Rest and peace come from humility and trust. When you come before God with no agenda, and a simple heart, then you can really listen. Then, you can really let yourself be loved. Then, you can really love others.

On subsequent walks around the city, I saw many elderly Koreans with backs literally bent double from years and years of work (and probably bowing).

And yet, the second thing I noticed after the bent backs were the (toothless) grins and the smiling, thankful, peaceful, eyes. So different from the latent looks of unrest and insecurity that often lurk in the eyes of the tall, beautiful and proud.

I want crazy, crazy crows feet. I want smiling eye wrinkles that go down to my knees. But mostly I want the sense of peace, joy, and humility that caused them.

The good news is that moving to a new continent comes with a wide variety of opportunities to be humbled. Like when your friend Duyeon informs you that that crosswalk button you've been pressing is not to make the light change faster, it's for the visually impaired. That's why Koreans have been looking and laughing when you press it. Or when you wear a dress you thought was really cute and your precious korean student asks if you're pregnant. Or when you realize that Asian women simply do not sweat---and that you are an incredibly sweaty person, even by Western standards. Or when you realize that the third graders you teach speak about 95% more of your language than you do of theirs.

All this to say, it feels really, surprisingly, counterintuitively, wonderfully freeing to be humbled.

Wayfarers All

"By this time their meal was over, and the Seafarer, refreshed and strengthened, his voice more vibrant, his eye lit with a brightness that seemed caught from some faraway sea beacon, filled his glass with the red and glowing vintage of the South, and, leaning towards the Water Rat, compelled his gaze and held him, body and soul, while he talked.  Those eyes were of the changing foam-streaked gray-green of leaping Northern seas; in the glass shone a hot ruby that seemed the very heart of the South, beating for him who had courage to respond to its pulsation.  The twin lights, the shifting gray and the steadfast red, mastered the Water Rat and held him bound, fascinated, powerless.  The quiet world outside their rays receded far away and ceased to be.  And the talk, the wonderful talk flowed on--or was it speech entirely, or did it pass at times into song--chanty of the sailors weighing the dripping anchor sonorous hum of the shrouds of a tearing noreaster, ballad of the fisherman hauling his net at sundown against an apricot sky, chords of guitar and mandolin from gondola or caique? Did it change into the cry of the wind, plaintive at first, angrily shrill as it freshened, rising to a tearing whistle, sinking to a musical trickle of air from the leech of the bellying sail?  All these sounds the spellbound listener seemed to hear, and with them the hungry complaint of the gulls and the sea mews, the soft thunder of the breaking wave, the cry of the protesting shingle.  Back into speech again it passed, and with beating heart he was following the adventured of a dozen seaports, the fights, the escapes, the rallies, the comradeships, the gallant undertakings; or he searched islands for treasure, fished in still lagoons and dozed daylong on warm white sand.  Of deep=sea fishing he heard tell, and mighty silver gatherings of the mile-long net;  of sudden perils, noise of breakers on a moonless night, or the tall bows of the great liner taking shape overhead through the fog;  of the merry homecoming, the headland rounded, the harbor lights opened out;  the groups seen dimly on the quay, the cheery hail, the splash of the hawser, the trudge up the steep little street towards the comforting glow of red-curtained windows.

Lastly, in his waking dream it seemed to him that the Adventurer had risen to his feet, but was still speaking, still holding him fast with his sea-gray eyes.  "And now," he was softly saying, "I take to the road again, holding on southwestwards for many a long and dusty day. ...And you, you will come too, young brother;  for the days pass, and never return, and the South still waits for you. Take the Adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes! 'TIs but a banging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old life and into the new! Then some day, some day long hence, jog home here if you will, when the cup has been drained and the play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for your company."

-The Wind in the Willows

projectile

the holy spirit has given me two really good words today: cease striving.

though i feel weighed down by the suffering of the world, i don't have all the answers and i don't have to. my job is to sit beside him. to be loved by him. to be still and hold hands with him. this is what will evoke change. first in me, then in the world.

i will ontos your logical

we're pinky, we're pinky and the

brain
brain
brain
brain
brain

fiber optics

note to self: kids cliff bars from now on.

blackboard flies....

into the light of a dark, black night.
someone's behind on grading.

...or i will feed you to the black monolith.

but what does it all mean?
it means that that the character development in 2001 Space Odyssey is about my speed.
and like that one scene in mean girls.

Hal is a killer.
obvi.

erin stewart....

needs to consider eating something other than bread and cheese. i'm not saying actually DO it....i'm just saying consider it.
Felt a bit like our old pal liz lemon today. i feel a bit like her every day. today it was when i was bouncing down the streets of paris, i envisioned LL after she thinks she met Oprah on the plane, but really it was just a spunky tween. she just thought it was oprah because she was all hopped up on Jack's travel pills.
anyway, "oprah" informs LL that her new "favorite things" for that month are sweater capes, high heeled flip flops, and saltwater taffy.
my soul was sweater-caped this morning.