Sylvia's Journal

Last night I accompanied Axel to a friend’s house for a cooking and information class about Ayurvedic self care. Our friend is the one who has been massaging our sore and traumatized limbs and bodies since July 2007. While we were away in Afghanistan she took classes in Ayurveda, an ancient approach to life and health.

And so last night we learned about the doshas, their elements and attributes: vata (air and ether), pitta (fire and water) and kapha (earth and water). It’s ancient, complicated and endlessly fascinating. Since Axel is in transition, weaning off all sorts of medicines, he had decided that this cleansing might be a good idea. Cleansing means removing foods from our diet – for awhile – that are not so good for us: alcohol, sugar, red meat, processed foods, dairy, shellfish and more and substituting them with foods and spices that are decidedly Indian: pulses, rice, vegetables, and all sorts of spices.

The staple food for the cleansing is a rice and lentils mixture that is cooked in ghee and enriched with spices and just about any vegetable you want. It is called kitchari. When I first looked up recipes I typed in ‘kedgeree’ and discovered that this is an English breakfast adaptation with fish, often with eggs, butter and whatever else was left over from the previous evening meal (this from before the days of refrigeration).

Curious about the history of that transformation I learned that not everyone believes that India informed the British kitchen: one source claims that the dish went from Scotland to India during the Raj time and then back to the UK.  Whatever way it went, the transformation remains mysterious.

An important aspect of the doshas is taste (sweet, bitter, sour, salty and astringent) and this informs the choice of spices and vegetables to add to the mixture. We were a little loose last night with the spices and produced a very yummy and spicy kitchari. As we sat down to eat the meal I realized that I was eating ‘shola,’ one of my favorite Afghan dishes. I had no idea our cooks, at work and at home, were offering us ayurvedic meals. Except for the oil and salt, used rather lavishly, our diet in Afghanistan is improving in our rear view mirror.

We have now successfully completed our first day of cleansing. Axel went cold turkey off beer and tea and me off chocolate. It’s only for a week so eventually we will be able to return to these eating habits. This is a relief as I just learned from a reputable medical journal that eating chocolate staves off stroke in older women.

We will celebrate Greek Easter because we were too busy on regular Easter. Without kids at home who demand colored eggs, an Easter basket with lots of chocolate, new clothes (a bonnet), we did not set our own course and drifted along on what others had arranged: a community ecumenical sunrise service at the beach (6:29 AM) and breakfast with cousins in Gloucester.

We got up at 5:30 AM, normal, even late for me, but way too early for Axel. We walked to the beach – a breathtaking walk with so much birdsong – and got there just when the service started and all the programs had been distributed. This left us without the plan for the service (no problem) and without the words to the hymns (big problem) – this meant that we had to la-la-la our way through the service, until a nice lady next to us noticed how lost we were without the words and kindly handed us her program.

There were lots of Allelujas and Praise-the-Lords. One of the pastors/ministers had us shout ‘Christ has Risen’ as loud as we could so we would wake up the people still sleeping in town. Of course, if it reached anyone at all, it would only be the very rich people whose houses border the beach. I suspect they may all have been there, or still in their winter homes in faraway cities. We couldn’t shout that loud.

Axel’s cousin N had prepared a wonderful breakfast for family members and we joined in the conversation, a little bit of gossip here and there and much adult talk that visibly bored the younger generation. We have become our parents!

And then we got into the car and drove with thousands of other people slowly into Boston and out again (what was that all about?) on our way to IKEA. This time we had put on our hiking shoes and we had a very focused mission: a fold out bed for the guestroom. The bunk beds that we have forced our overnights guests to sleep in are no longer OK. We have decided to move them out and replace them with a bed where people can sleep side by side.

So that is done now, it just needs to be carried up the stairs and assembled. For this we need a young man who has two functioning rotator cuffs. My physical therapist told me this morning that I may have calcific tendinitis and should ‘baby’ my shoulder and right arm for a few days. This is too bad. I love assembling and disassembling furniture.

For nearly a year we have been invited to attend a monthly meditation session led by the husband of my future flight instructor (if ever I am around long enough to benefit from instruction and have enough money saved to buy a quart of a plane).

And so this morning we finally went. We joined a group that has been meeting for many years, some since 2004.  Yet the meditation sessions John led us through were fresh and new to everyone it seemed.  In one morning we learned to control our breathing and heartbeat and made everything go into slow motion – it was a very liberating experience – to know one can do this, to know one can slow things down when the world is spinning too fast.

In the afternoon we started cleaning the garden – this turned out to be a bit difficult for two people with right rotator cuff problems – no raking or anything that required a functional right shoulder.  Still I managed to clean out the asparagus bed and cover the tops of the new shoots with a layer of rich soil that should make for some fabulous Flemish dinners in a month or so.

All day I read and wrote about the Paris Declaration, country ownership, donor harmonization and such. It is a fascinating topic. Seven years ago a process got set in motion to reform foreign aid, the way it is given, the way it is processed, the way it is received and the way money is turned into progress. Now, all these years and several big conferences later there is some progress, some regress and some standstill. I am trying to understand the reasons for all three in the hope that we can distill some messages that are practical and hopeful.

I am learning a lot from these readings. One thing I learned is that it is important to know the author(s) of the report cards – as the saying goes, our findings tend to follow our lookings. I also learned that foreign aid is a 220 (or so) billion industry. Sixty percent of that comes from the wealthy economies, the longtime and traditional donors. Of the rest a little more than half comes from philanthropists, corporate foundations, individuals and NGOs and the remainder from emergent economies. This is, by the way, exactly the same amount mentioned on a Prudential billboard I drive by every day as the total value of its holdings of retirement monies – a coincidence or what?

I started the day with an early morning walk amongst Lobster Cove and Smith Point’s many birds, flowering trees and magnificent views. This treat was followed by another treat, my weekly massage by Abi who tried in vain to uplift my painful shoulder, leading to a decision to resume physical therapy. The rest of the day I worked hard, learning and writing, so I could go to another treat in the evening: a concert by Zoe Lewis at Club Passim.

Zoe, a virtuoso in storytelling, improv, songwriting, poetry, keyboard, ukulele, harmonica, guitar, penny whistle, singing (all sorts of traditions) and foot stomping (some of these at the same time) was accompanied by other virtuoso like Alison’s Mark on the clarinet, a young harmonica player and another singer/songwriter/guitarist who opened for her. It was a delightful evening in a historic place – photos of young Dylan and Baez decorated the walls – this is where much music history of my generation was made. I finally made it there, only 30 miles away from our house.

I have a new office mate. We are getting to know each other. The first thing I discovered about her is that she admitted she doesn’t like clutter. Having been alone in that office for some time I had cluttered up even her side of the room with all sorts of African tchotchkies that I wasn’t quite ready to part with. Now they are all in a bag underneath my desk, awaiting their destiny. I think it will be another round of give-aways.

At first I was afraid that we weren’t well matched on other things as well but that turned out to be wrong. She lived in Holland for 13 years and understands and speaks some Dutch, and loves my country, its food and its people. She also has many years of experience in Africa and worked with organizations and people I know.

Today we went on an hour long walk along the Charles River, enjoying the warm spring weather, the daffodils that someone (the city?) planted along the river and the flowering trees that line the river. Walking like that for several miles is easy and wonderful, and good for my stiff ankle and bad shoulder. For once it was a near painless experience, maybe because of the distraction of conversation and the fun of starting a new friendship.

Yesterday was all about money, some big for us, some big for the town. First there was the signing of our new mortgage which got us the lowest rate ever just the day after interest rates are going up. For once we are lucky on that front. It will shave a few 100 dollars of our payments to the bank each month and thousands off the interest we are paying. We hope this is the last time we have to do this. Fifteen years from now we should be the proud owners of our house. We will be in or close to our eighties.

The annual town meeting took place in the elementary school gym. Years ago I had to sit on the bleachers where the non-voting members of the public have to sit. That was before I became an American citizen. Now I could vote.  The annual town meeting is a highly choreographed form of democracy with lots of rules that are either law, Roberts’ rules or the veteran town moderator’s established ways of keeping things moving, people in line and the input limited.

One item on the warrant that did not pass was a classic example of the proposers not having done their homework (or at least most of them – some had), polarizing viewpoints rather than finding the common ground that, I am sure, is there. It pits one group (historical preservation) against another (wealthy home owners) in a needlessly confrontational way that obscures the common good behind self interest. Too bad.

We quietly left the meeting when item 18 (of 29) was up for vote, because it was, after all, a school night, with the next day my first day in the office in nearly 2 months.

The ride to work is easier now, leaving in the semi-dark and arriving in full daylight – it makes the commute slightly easier. I discovered I am sharing my office now with a new arrival. It feels a little cramped.

Tessa had bought 144 tiny plastic babies, among other things, to liven up Sita’s baby shower. There were origami papers to make cranes, playdough for a juried contest for the best playdough baby, tiny white buckets with airplants as party favors, and more. She has a future as a party organizer.

The cats were sequestered in one room, Tessa’s dogs in another, smelling each other but not allowed any contact as that would have meant fireworks.

Sita and Jim unpacked a mountain of gifts, with baby clothes that could satisfy the needs of an entire orphanage.