#52: Experience a new style of yoga

If you have been reading this blog (or my daily delights one) for a while, you probably know that I’m a big fan of yoga.  I experimented with yoga during my late 20s/early 30s, then started getting serious about it back in 2008-2009.  I even completed a year-long yoga teacher training program, with the sole objective of learning more about this path that I felt increasingly drawn to.  (If you would like to read more about my formal yoga training experience, I wrote a blog as I went through the process. [Of course I did.])  I love yoga so much that I wake up between 4-4:30 am every day (including weekends and holidays) to make sure I squeeze in some practice before my day gets busy.  I don’t belong to a gym, but do attend a yoga studio twice a week so that I can twist my body into crazy poses during each make-my-arms-shake-turn-my-legs-to-jelly-flip-my-feet-over-my-head-twist-my-spine-around-its-axis-I-am-having-so-much-freaking-fun class.  Yup, I’m a big fan of yoga.

I have my favorite types of classes (I’m a sucker for Ashtanga-influenced vinyasa classes, and am coming to like Jivamukti sessions more and more) but I’m also open to trying new styles of yoga, too.  (The Table of Contents on my yoga teacher training blog lists out a variety of yoga styles I sampled during that year; since then I’ve also tried Bikram yoga [the crazy-hot kind].)  While I have taken at least one class in 90% of the ‘standard’ yoga styles taught in most studios, there are still some niche types of practice that I haven’t tried – and during this time of exploration, I wanted to make sure I sampled at least one of them.  Enter aerial yoga.

In addition to offering amazing yoga instruction for practitioners of all levels (from beginners who literally cannot touch their toes to advanced students who can literally put their feet behind their head), the studio I attend also offers a variety of unique yoga experiences.  Yoga on horseback?  No problem, they do that.  Yoga on a tightrope (called a “slack line”)?  Yup, they do that, too.  Yoga for pregnant ladies, yoga for moms with new babies, yoga for kids, yoga for teens, yoga for overweight people, yoga for athletes, yoga for people with injuries, yoga and music, yoga and poetry, yoga with your spouse, yoga with your dog – this studio does it all.  They’re fantastic.  (I really can’t say enough good things about the studio.  But I digress…)

So when it came time for me to complete #52 on the 101 list, my only ‘problem’ was deciding which unique experience I wanted to try.  Since I had never seen aerial yoga offered anywhere else, that’s the one I chose.

This past weekend, I got to spend two hours at the studio playing with nine other yogis, climbing in and swinging on massive silk slings, exploring the concept of aerial yoga.

It’s been a long time since I have walked into a yoga class and not known at least a little bit of what to expect.  But with this aerial yoga session, I was truly starting near zero.  I didn’t even know simple things, like should I roll my mat out for this class?  (Yes.)  How does a person get into the sling?  (It’s not as difficult as it seems.)  Everything was new to me – and this experience was a good reminder of what it feels like to be a beginner.  For a few moments, I got to experience the uncertainty that new people feel.  It was uncomfortable, but also healthy for me.

Once the class began, one of the first things the teacher had us do was put the fabric sling around our back, and begin to lean into the material.  If we were going to use the sling effectively, we had to trust that it would hold our weight and support our bodies.  I’ll admit that I felt slightly nervous the first time I leaned back, picked my feet up off the ground, and allowed the sling to hold me – but I got over that mild fear very quickly.  (Like, within two seconds.)  As I leaned back into the sling, I felt like I was on some sort of crazy yogic swing – it was so fun to twirl all around in the fabric.

There were two primary ways we used the sling in the session: with the material ‘folded over’ itself so that it was like a thick rope that helped support various parts of our bodies (our backs, our hips, a leg, etc.), and with the material fully extended so that it was like a mega hammock that we extended completely into.  (Imagine standing nice and tall.  Then raise your arms above your head and stand on your tip toes, making your body as long as possible.  Now fall straight backwards into a huge piece of silk.  Now imagine someone takes the two sides of the silk and pulls them up like handles on a plastic grocery bag – and you are the produce that is in the middle of it.  Suspend the ‘bag’ (silk) from the ceiling, and voila – you have a visual of what being in the sling was like.)

I was not a fan of using the sling via method #1 (i.e., sling-as-rope) – the pressure of the bunched-up silk was very uncomfortable on my body wherever it made contact (it was almost painful), and I felt more restricted than if I were moving on my own, ‘unaided’ by the prop.  (Granted, I am a very flexible woman, so I suspect people who may be less flexible might find the sling to be very helpful for moving their bodies in ways they might not be able to access otherwise.)  But sling method #2 (i.e., sling as hammock/grocery bag), now that was a different story.  As we each laid back into our fully-extended slings, the teacher had us bend sideways.  (I.e., lay on the floor with your arms over your head, so that you are stretched out as long as possible.  Now, keeping your back on the floor, try to bend so that your fingertips touch your toes – so you’ll be curling into a letter “C”.)  When I did this, it felt like I was swimming in air – it was such a unique, cool, interesting sensation.

However, when I transitioned out of the sling and on to the mat to do a standard sun salutation (a series of twelve basic yoga poses connected via continuous movement and a specific breath pattern), my body felt freakishly heavy.  It was as if my bones weighed 300 pounds; movements that are normally very easy for me to do suddenly felt taxing and laborious, like I was pushing a huge fat ass through mud.  I did not like the sensation at all.

Later in the class, the teacher had us play with inversions on the sling.  (I.e., poses where we turn our bodies upside down, so that our heads are near the floor and our feet are near the ceiling.)  In normal yoga classes, I am a HUGE fan of inversions – I absolutely adore handstands, headstands, forearm stands, and on and on.  But with the sling, the inversions didn’t feel good – I became very light-headed, and very space-cadet-y.  (For fellow yogis: the sling felt very vata-y.  I have a strong vata dosha anyway, so to add a lot more vata to my practice is rarely a good idea; I need a solid dose of grounding in each class I take, and the sling seemed to offer zero grounding properties.)  So the poses that I usually love suddenly became almost aversive to me; again, another strange experience to encounter.

Indeed, when I tried to follow the teacher’s instructions for much of the class, it was hard for me to do; it was as if I was a complete yoga-novice.  (Suffice to say, I didn’t like this feeling very much.)  But.  When the instructor gave us “play time” (where we simply used the sling in any way we wanted to), all of the poses and movements came to me very easily.  My body knew what it wanted (and at times, needed) to do; all I had to do was listen.  I had to take the practice out of my mental memory and trust my muscle memory; and when I did that, I was back to being a competent, confident yogi.

At the end of the session, the instructor gave us the option to take our savasana (final resting pose) either on the ground or in the sling – and every student chose to relax in the sling.  As I laid back and felt (and saw) the huge red swath of silk support me, a sensation of calm literally surrounded me.  At precisely that moment, the sounds of chanting and singing from a class occurring in the room across the hall entered our space – and I ended the session with all of my senses surrounded by feelings of relaxation.  It was lovely.

I don’t think I’ll take another aerial yoga class any time soon; but boy, I could totally go for one of those slings in my house.  I’d love to take a swim in the air again.

Stef

P.S.  Below are some pictures from the class that a very kind fellow student took for me.  (Thank you kind gal, wherever you are.)  [And no, I intentionally didn't ask her to take them in shadow; that's just the way the lighting worked out.]

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#82: Answer the “50 Questions That Will Free Your Mind”

I can’t remember how or why I stumbled on the list of “50 Questions That Will Free Your Mind”; but if answering a mere 50 questions will result in liberation, I’m totally willing to do that work!  So, over the past several months I addressed each question on the list, thinking briefly about each item, but mostly answering the questions with relative spontaneity.  I wanted my responses to be thorough, certainly; but I also wanted to leave room to learn whatever information the answer to each question might have to show me or teach me.

Today I completed the final question on the list.  I’m slightly disappointed to report that I am not a fully enlightened being (even after responding to all of the items); but I did gain some insights into parts of myself that I didn’t really want to look at before.  While not liberating my heart from all fear, hate, and delusion that can cover or cloud it, the process did confirm that overall, I am quite pleased with the life I have lived thus far.  While my soul is still not fully ‘whole’, it doesn’t have a huge gaping hole, either.  All in all, I’m doing okay.  And that’s pretty darn good, actually.

Below is the list of the 50 questions.  I’m not going to include all of my responses in this post, because 1) that would turn this into a REALLY long entry, and 2) the answers to some of the questions are quite personal, and cut pretty close to my heart.  If there is a question you really want to know my answer to, let me know (comment below, or send me a private message – your choice), and if I feel that it would be appropriate for me to share my response then I will.  But, I think it might be more interesting if perhaps you took a peek at the questions, and maybe answered a few for yourself.  Who knows what you might find.  :)

Stef

1. How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
2. Which is worse, failing or never trying?
3. If life is so short, why do we do so many things we don’t like and like so many things we don’t do?
4. When it’s all said and done, will you have said more than you’ve done?
5. What is the one thing you’d most like to change about the world?
6. If happiness was the national currency, what kind of work would make you rich?
7. Are you doing what you believe in, or are you settling for what you are doing?
8. If the average human life span was 40 years, how would you live your life differently?
9. To what degree have you actually controlled the course your life has taken?
10. Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things?
11. You’re having lunch with three people you respect and admire.  They all start criticizing a close friend of yours, not knowing she is your friend.  The criticism is distasteful and unjustified.  What do you do?
12. If you could offer a newborn child only one piece of advice, what would it be?
13. Would you break the law to save a loved one?
14. Have you ever seen insanity where you later saw creativity?
15. What’s something you know you do differently than most people?
16. How come the things that make you happy don’t make everyone happy?
17. What one thing have you not done that you really want to do?  What’s holding you back?
18. Are you holding onto something you need to let go of?
19. If you had to move to a state or country besides the one you currently live in, where would you move and why?
20. Do you push the elevator button more than once?  Do you really believe it makes the elevator faster?
21. Would you rather be a worried genius or a joyful simpleton?
22. Why are you, you?
23. Have you been the kind of friend you want as a friend?
24. Which is worse, when a good friend moves away, or losing touch with a good friend who lives right near you?
25. What are you most grateful for?
26. Would you rather lose all of your old memories, or never be able to make new ones?
27. Is is possible to know the truth without challenging it first?
28. Has your greatest fear ever come true?
29. Do you remember that time 5 years ago when you were extremely upset?  Does it really matter now?
30. What is your happiest childhood memory?  What makes it so special?
31. At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive?
32. If not now, then when?
33. If you haven’t achieved it yet, what do you have to lose?
34. Have you ever been with someone, said nothing, and walked away feeling like you just had the best conversation ever?
35. Why do religions that support love cause so many wars?
36. Is it possible to know, without a doubt, what is good and what is evil?
37. If you just won a million dollars, would you quit your job?
38. Would you rather have less work to do, or more work you actually enjoy doing?
39. Do you feel like you’ve lived this day a hundred times before?
40. When was the last time you marched into the dark with only the soft glow of an idea you strongly believed in?
41. If you knew that everyone you know was going to die tomorrow, who would you visit today?
42. Would you be willing to reduce your life expectancy by 10 years to become extremely attractive or famous?
43. What is the difference between being alive and truly living?
44. When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just go ahead and do what you know is right?
45. If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake?
46. What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?
47. When was the last time you noticed the sound of your own breathing?
48. What do you love?  Have any of your recent actions openly expressed this love?
49. In 5 years from now, will you remember what you did yesterday?  What about the day before that?  Or the day before that?
50. Decisions are being made right now.  The question is:  Are you making them for yourself, or are you letting others make them for you?

The dramedy of caring for a dog

Today as I was getting ready to take the puppies for their morning walk, I noticed that the box of poop bags had instructions on them.  For over a year (not to mention during the five years we had our first dog) I have been walking our pets without proper guidance from the poo bag manufacturer – perhaps I have been doing it wrong?!  Intrigued by the types of instructions that might be included on a box of poo poo bags (after all, the poop collection process seems pretty straight-forward to me), I read the 6-step (!) procedure with curiosity – and then laughed aloud.  Here is a picture of the instructions; and below, my mental commentary.  I hope you enjoy this brief break as much as my brain and I did (and still do).

1. “I like to walk my dog.”  Some mornings this statement is debatable, but for the sake of learning, I’ll agree to it for now.
2. “My dog suddenly poo poo.”  Oh my god, dog, you just decided to poo out of the blue?  What the…that’s crazy unexpected!  And bag manufacturer, do you no speak good English?
3. “Tear one bag off the roll.”  Okay, wait – am I supposed to carry the entire box of 200 bags with me?  But what about the statement below the instructions, telling me I should have the bags in my car/garage/porch/camper/apartment?  Those instructions don’t tell me to always keep a roll in my pockets… so what’s a person to do?  And what if I don’t have a porch or camper – can I still use the bags?  My house wasn’t listed among the places I should keep a roll of bags – does that mean the bags are not supposed to be there?  I’m so confused…
4. “Pull the bag over my hand just like a glove.”  Are you coming on the walk with me?  No offense, but I don’t even know your name… I mean, if you want to come along and pick up my dog’s poo, that’s cool, I guess… but then I have to put the bag on your hand for you?  Do you have really crummy hand-eye coordination or something?  (And if you do have some issues with your hands, perhaps picking up dog poo actually isn’t the best role for you?)
5. “Pick up my dog’s waste nicely.”  Wait – your dog, or my dog?  Are you bringing a dog with you on the walk I take with my dogs?  So if you are picking up your dog’s poop, who is picking up my dog’s poop?
6. “Tie a knot in bag and dispose responsibly.”  I.e., not in flames on a neighbor’s front step.  Got it.

:)  Stef

#38: Visit the American Swedish Institute (a Minnesota Historic Site)

For the past several years, all the adults on my husband’s side of our family have opted to follow a name exchange program to facilitate Christmas gift-giving.  For 2012 my husband’s younger brother drew my name, and consulted my husband for gift ideas.  Between the two of them, my brother-in-law (BIL) arranged the perfect combination of presents for me: 1) a donation to the Humane Society, and 2) a promise to complete Item #38 on my 101 list with me.

You may remember from past posts that when it comes to gift-giving, I prefer people make donations to charity in lieu of giving me material possessions – so I love that my BIL gave the gift of shelter to an animal in need.  Yet some people are uncomfortable giving only a donation as a gift (which I understand), so I also appreciate that instead of ‘supplementing’ my holiday present with a book or CD, my BIL decided to give me an experience.  I will always choose forming a memory over receiving a bauble, and I can think of few better people to explore the American Swedish Institute with than my husband’s brother.  (My in-law family come from a long line of Norwegian ancestry.)  My BIL and I get along well (he even lived in our house for a summer many years ago), but now that he has children I don’t get to see him too often – so I thought it would be fun to explore a place that was new to both of us, and to spend a few hours with him free from any significant responsibilities or distractions.  (Kids are fun, but they do demand quite a lot of care and attention.)

A few days before we were scheduled to meet up at the Institute, I emailed my BIL to confirm that our plans were still in place.  He replied back to my note, “Of course we are still on! The museum opens at 10:00 am — would you want to meet in the parking lot right at 10, have lunch when we feel like it, and see more of the museum after lunch? Whatever you want to do is fine with me; I basically have the whole day blocked off for you. :-)”  In reading his reply, I was genuinely touched.  It’s not often that another person sets aside an entire day specifically dedicated to me; knowing that someone had arranged their busy life to make me the focus of one of their days made me feel honored.  Sincerely.  In that moment, I experienced exactly how powerful the gift of attention really is; how being present for someone truly is a present.  It’s so simple, yet so wonderful.  Wow.

So when I pulled into the Institute’s parking lot at 10 am on Saturday, I felt happy.  I hadn’t yet experienced anything, but I was already having a wonderful time.  :)

Obviously I didn’t take this picture; but it was the best one I found that shows the institute as a whole.

The morning was gray, drizzly, and cold – perfect weather for exploring a museum.  When I stepped into the space, the first things I encountered were a cafe (which was quite active with patrons/diners), a gift shop (which was closed), and an open atrium that connected the two.  All three spaces had a very clean, minimalist feel to them – very Design Within Reach.  I began to understand why my husband was drawn to a very specific interior design aesthetic – apparently it is encoded into his genetics.  Kind of wild, but honestly, pretty true.

The atrium area. To the right is the gift shop; to the left is the cafe.

My BIL and I met inside, and were given a quick briefing of the space by the volunteer at the admission desk.  The American Swedish Institute was actually comprised of a few key spaces: a small art gallery, the café, a cultural center (with classrooms), and a mansion.  Since the art gallery was immediately in front of us (just off to the top right corner of the above picture, my BIL and I decided to start our adventure there.

On display was a series of lithographs by a local artist who creates works largely influenced by Sami culture (more to come on this in a bit).  When I walked into the studio, I didn’t know what a lithograph was; happily for me, in the center of the gallery were a few panels that explained the lithograph creation process:

The “how-it-works” in words…

…and in practice. (Kind of.)

The actual stone used for a print.

The final product. (Pay no attention to the woman behind the glass.)

As I examined the various prints, I appreciated the detail and beauty within each one.  I could feel the artist’s heart in the works on the walls; truly incredible.

I had several ‘favorite’ images, but the honesty and emotion of this one struck me in particular.

The pictures I took of a few of the lithographs simply don’t do justice to the art; if you’d like to see more examples of the various pieces, please visit the artist’s website.

After touring the gallery, my BIL and I walked past the café and down the main hallway of the cultural center to approach the mansion.  This is where our fun experience with contrasts began.

Standing in the institute, I looked out a wall of windows and saw a teepee of the Sami people, and beyond that, the Turnblad mansion. One of the most simplistic housing structures possible sat in the yard of one of the most grand.

As we approached the mansion, I felt like we were straddling two worlds: we began leaving a sleek, modern, white, somewhat cold 21st century space, and started entering a historic, romantic, colorful, warm 19th century environment.

The way the total ASI space is structured, the cultural center adjoins the back of the mansion; so unbeknownst to us, my BIL entered the massive home through the back door (literally).  After a few confusing moments, we started walking to our right side, and eventually found our way to the main entrance:

Oh! So this is the mansion. This makes a lot more sense.

As we stood in the main foyer of the space, I was immediately taken by how truly gorgeous it was.  Solid dark wood adorned every vertical surface, and plush carpet squished under my feet (even after all these years).  Intricate carvings and adornments were found at every turn:

One of the dozen tile fire boxes placed throughout the mansion. Each box was unique, yet all were as exquisitely detailed as this one.

A massive stained glass scene that marked the entry into a stunning solarium. I would have been happy to put a cot and camp stove into that 300 square foot space and call it home.

The formal dining room. Just one more example of the fact that very wealthy people designed and constructed this home.

As my BIL and I moved from room to room, about 10 minutes into our exploration he paused.  He looked at something along one of the floors, squinting.  In an tone that suggested he wasn’t exactly sure about something, he asked me, “Um, hey – is that an Easter egg?”, and pointed to an object tucked into the banister of a set of stairs.

Indeed, it was an Easter egg!  (Three, in fact.)  What the heck…  As my BIL and I continued our self-directed tour, we saw more and more of these eggs crop up everywhere!  They were next to furniture:

Eggs were on the mantles of multiple fireboxes (previously discussed), and tucked into the dirt of potted plants, and hidden among bookshelves.  Little plastic eggs were even hid among pieces within the Sami exhibit:

Um, okay, this is strange.  What are these plastic eggs doing all over the house?  My BIL and I reasoned that clearly some sort of holiday egg hunt would be occurring at some point in the future; but why would a museum put eggs into places that they clearly didn’t want people (especially small children) touching?  I shrugged my shoulders and thought, “Oh well; hopefully the organizers have a plan for this,” then continued walking.

Little did I know that I was about to experience some searching madness first-hand.

My BIL and I were in the basement of the mansion, where we had stumbled on the archives section of the institute.  We looked over a few books that were lying out on tables, when I saw two things that caught my eye:

An old-school card catalog! As I gently touched the index cards, my mind was immediately transported back to the public library I visited as a child and adolescent, where I spent many hours doing research for school assignments by flipping through hundreds of index cards, writing down dozens of Dewey Decimal System number/letter combinations, then locating appropriate books on shelves throughout the building, scanning through the indexes of each text to find associated topics, returning back to the card catalog with more research ideas – and starting the whole process again. Talk about having to work to write a fact-based paper! Oh, 1980s.

My, how times have changed.

At this point in the museum experience I started chuckling to myself about all of the contrasts I was living through at this exact moment in this very building.  A bit lost in my own thoughts and amusements, I exited the small museum library and re-entered the basement area of the mansion – and came to face-to-face with a small army of children, ages 18 months to four years.  Each child was holding a sheet of paper in one hand, and a small square of egg-shaped stickers in the other.  Suddenly one observant boy yelled, “I see one!”, and scrambled to put one of the egg stickers on a specific line of his sheet of paper.

Apparently the Easter egg hunt had begun.

Wowzers.

While excited, all of the children were actually quite quiet (considering they were on an Easter egg hunt!) and very well-behaved.  As they moved quickly from room to room, spying the colored eggs my BIL had brought to my attention earlier, he and I turned our attention to the Sami exhibit that was set-up in various rooms within the mansion.

In talking with my BIL and reading the various posters in each gallery space, I learned that the Sami people were (are) an indigenous population of northern Europe (Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia).  Similar to the US Native Americans, the Sami lived a nomadic lifestyle, had great respect for nature, and sought to live in harmony with all beings.  Because of their trusting and peaceful nature, they were easy to dominate and take advantage of – and just like the US Native Americans, had the few things they truly value (i.e., land and peace) pretty much stolen from them.  Also similar to US Native Americans, the current Sami are asserting themselves to reclaim their rights (to property, their livelihoods, etc.), and are struggling with reconciling their historical way of life with the realities of the current day.  I found the Sami exhibit simultaneously sad yet inspiring, upsetting yet also uplifting.  Here is just one snippet from the dozens of scenes in the museum that captured some of the contrast:

As my BIL and I continued walking through the mansion, I felt the space shift slightly from regal home to informative museum.  On the upper floor of the mansion the rooms were much more plain and sparse than on the lower levels; despite being a family of incredible wealth, the Turnblad clan were actually very modest (and incredibly introverted) people who preferred to do their day-to-day living in simple quarters. [Which is quite a Scandinavian trait; and rather Minnesotan, too.] As a result, the empty third-floor rooms were the perfect spaces for informative displays, and it is here that the Sami exhibit really came to life.  Examples of Sami attire, gear, arts, and crafts permeated the top level of the mansion.  The institute even had one room dedicated to child-friendly, hands-on, interactive educational pieces (like a 5’ tall teepee [with a mock fire!] that kids could sit in [the teepee, not the fire], a child-size kitchen with wooden play food, samples of Sami hand-bent twig baskets and felted/woven scarves that children could gently touch…)  It was fun watching the small children take a break from hunting Easter eggs to play with (and learn about) the Sami way of life.

Having walked through and looked at every component of the mansion and museum, my BIL and I made our way back to the main floor, out the back door, past the carriage house, and returned to the cultural center – which led us to the café.  It was 11:45 am, and definitely time for lunch.

My BIL and I were both surprised by the quality of the café; it was not a grab-and-go, seat-yourself cafeteria-style outfit (which is what I expect from most museums), but rather a host-will-seat-you, waitress-will-serve-you, all-food-is-made-to-order restaurant.  After looking over the menu, my BIL chose: an open-face sandwich of mushroom and orange spread on rye bread, topped with some type of Scandinavian white creamy cheese, pickled pear, and frisée; a side of roasted fingerling potatoes with sautéed greens, capers, anchovy, and cream sauce; and a cup of green tea.  I chose: a slice of butternut squash, cheese, and egg bake that was topped with some sort of delicious green smear, and served with a small green salad tossed in vinaigrette; and a side of sautéed Brussels sprouts with garlic and crisp onion, and a smear of Västerbotten – whatever that is. (Google tells me it’s some sort of cheese…) While I can appreciate that some of this food may sound unappealing, it was all pretty fantastically delicious.

After finishing our mains and sides, of course my BIL and I indulged in dessert.  We chose to split a serving of vanilla bean cheesecake that sat on a gingerbread cracker crust, and came topped with candied ginger and a side of citrus. It was also phenomenal.

Yet as good as the food was, what I enjoyed most of the meal was the conversation I had with my BIL.  As I said at the beginning of this post, he and I don’t get to spend a lot of time together, but I really value, appreciate, and genuinely like him.  He is smart and witty, he has an engaging and open personality, and he is kind while still being firm when he needs to be.  He’s an all-around good guy (he actually reminds me a lot of my husband), and I was happy to have the opportunity to talk with him about a variety of topics.  (And indeed, we chatted about lots of different things – from vegan cooking to personal finance and investing, from business and unions to volunteerism and the passage of time as a whole…our 90-minute conversation ran the gamut.)  We were both very open and relaxed, and the meal sped by.

Alas, everything must come to a close (see “the passage of time as a whole”, above), and at the end of the lunch my BIL and I stood, hugged, and went our separate ways.  And while the experience we shared was (is) ephemeral, the memories that we created together will last a very, very long time – and that made this outing one of the very best gifts I have received in a long time.  Thanks BIL.

Stef

#85: Make baklava

During my youth my mom worked part-time outside the home, and full-time inside of it.  As a result, my parents, sister, and I all sat down to a home-cooked family dinner nearly every week night.  My mom usually served simple-yet-balanced meals (good ol’ meat, starch, vegetables, and milk), complete with some sort of dessert offered at the end of every dinner.  Some nights the dessert was a bowl of ice cream of a handful of chocolate candies; other nights the dessert was a homemade slice of cake or a cookie made from scratch.  (I was in my twenties when I first learned that cookie dough could be purchased ready-made in the grocery store; in our house making cookies always involved creaming sugar and butter, and sifting in flour.)  on just a handful of occasions, the post-dinner dessert was something complex and fancy, like baklava or cream puffs.

I can remember eating baklava exactly two times during my childhood, and I watched my mom make it once.  I remember thinking it looked like she was making a dessert lasagna (which is a kind of what baklava is), and I also clearly remember her saying that working with phyllo dough was very difficult.  Very difficult – which is why she rarely made baklava.  Something about having to keep the dough moist, or else it would crack and crumble and be impossible to work with and destroy the entire dessert… And I remember thinking in that moment, “Well, I guess I’ll just never work with phyllo dough.”  My logic was that my mom was a fantastic homemaker (cook, seamstress, housekeeper, and tender of all things domestic); and if she ever found a recipe, dress pattern, or household chore too difficult, then the task in question would be impossible for me to do.  So at the age of ten or eleven (or however old I was), I made up my mind that homemade baklava and other phyllo-dough-related treats were simply out of the question for me.

Interestingly, I had a similar preconception with puff pastry (and I still have the same notion around cream puffs), but then two years ago (gosh, nearly exactly two years ago!) something came over me, and I decided that being intimidated by an ingredient was stupid.  So I went out and purchased some puff pastry, and made a vegetarian pot pie – and the results were quite good.  Months later, when I decided to attempt a 101 in 1001 challenge, I made a point to both baklava and cream puffs on the list of things to accomplish.  Instead of accepting other people’s experiences as gospel, I wanted to attempt, explore, and arrive at my own conclusions.  Perhaps phyllo dough is an obnoxious ingredient to work with, and perhaps it is totally not worth the effort to manage – but I want to find that out for myself.  I want to see if other people’s ‘truths’ are true for me as well.

Yesterday a moderate snow storm arrived, so today was the perfect day to stay hunkered down inside our warm, cozy house.  A perfect day for baking.  A perfect day for indoor exploration and experimentation.  A perfect day to try my hand at making baklava.

I began the task by researching baklava recipes on the internet.  After just a few minutes, I learned that there is pretty much one standard, widely accepted way to make baklava.  So I chose to follow the recipe of a food blogger who supported her explanations with lots of great photos (I’m a visual gal, and love it when people include images to help clarify their words), and headed off to my kitchen with her instructions to see if together the two of us couldn’t manage to whip up a batch of tasty baklava.

What follows is The Pioneer Woman’s baklava recipe, with my changes and commentary noted in italics (or crossed out text, as the case may be…).  Without further introduction, I share with you my experiences with…

BAKLAVA!

Ingredients

• 1 package half-pound phyllo dough
• Four 3.5 cups chopped walnuts or pecans and almonds (I ended up using 1.25 cups walnuts, 1.75 cups pecans, and 0.5 cups almonds.  [This was the combination of chopped nuts I already had on hand.])  I highly recommend saving yourself some hassle and purchasing pre-chopped nuts – unless you feel like you need some kitchen therapy.  (I did have to chop some of the pecans a little bit [I had halves instead of pieces in my cupboards], and I found the rocking motion of the knife to be somewhat soothing and therapeutic.)
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1-and-1/2 sticks melted butter margarine, divided (Again, I already had sticks of margarine on hand, so I used those in place of butter.)
• Two one cups honey
• 1/2 1 cup water
• 1/2 cup sugar
• Three two teaspoons vanilla extract (I kinda ran out…)

Preparation Instructions

Remove phyllo dough package from freezer and place in the fridge for 24 hours to thaw. Then remove from fridge 1 hour before using.

When working with the phyllo dough, only remove the sheets you immediately need, keeping the other sheets covered in plastic wrap, then a damp cloth. (I vividly remember this part from my youth – this was the part my mom deemed as very difficult in the baklava-making process.  As I prepped my stack of phyllo dough, I felt like a surgeon working to save a patient.  I think the world is glad that I didn’t pursue medicine as my profession…)

Toss together the chopped walnuts (and pecans and almonds) and cinnamon. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Thoroughly butter spray a disposable rectangular baking pan with nonstick spray. (I knew I would be working with copious amounts of greasy and sticky substances; I was willing to spend some money and make a slight environmental dent and purchase a throw-away pan in exchange for not totally destroying one of my two 9”x13” baking dishes.) Make sure the sheets of phyllo will generally fit the pan (if they’re a little bigger, that’s okay.) If they’re much bigger, just trim them with a sharp knife.  (I did end up trimming the long end of each sheet of phyllo, lest I have an inch of unflavored dough along one edge of the finished product.  Blech.)

Using a pastry brush (or a BBQ brush if you don’t have a pastry brush on hand), butter the top sheet of phyllo with melted butter, then grab it and the unbuttered sheet below it. (Painting the butter was quite fun for me – I finally found a type of art I’m actually good at!)  ;)  Set the two sheets in the pan, buttered sheet face down. Press lightly into the pan. Repeat this twice more, so that you have six sheets of phyllo in the pan, three of the sheets buttered.  (I completed the first layer of two phyllo sheets – but then kind of forgot the next two rounds.  So my base layer of baklava only has two sheets of phyllo.  I hope it will hold up…)

Sprinkle on enough nuts to make a single layer. (I ended up using a scant 3/4 cup of nuts in each layer.)  Butter one sheet of phyllo, grab that sheet and the sheet beneath it, and place them on top of the nuts. Add more nuts, then two more phyllo sheets (one buttered, one not). Repeat this a couple more times, or until you’re out of nuts. (My baklava had a total of 5 nut layers. The last layer was slightly skimpy, but whatever.)  Top with 4 more buttered phyllo sheets, ending with a buttered top. Cut a diagonal diamond pattern in the baklava into squares using a very sharp knife.  (I knew if I tried to make fancy diamond shapes, I would have an array of wildly uneven-sized pieces.  I decided to stick with straight horizontal and vertical lines.  [If you turn a square 45 degrees on a plate, you can claim it’s a diamond anyway, right?])  ;)  I hope I cut all the way through to the bottom of the pan. (My knife kind of feels like it got stuck in a few places.)  Time will tell, I suppose.

Bake for 45 minutes, or until the baklava is very golden brown. (I baked mine for 30 minutes, and that seemed fine.)

Here’s the baklava before I put it in the oven…

…and here it is after 30 minutes of heat, all nice and golden brown.

While the baklava is baking, combine one-half stick of the butter, honey, water, sugar, and vanilla in a saucepan. (Dang, honey is heavy!  And impervious to water.  And wait – add honey and sugar to the pan?  Well no wonder people like baklava so much; it contains liquid crack!) Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low.  My sauce ended up simmering for 20 minutes.

When you remove the baklava from the oven, drizzle half the saucepan evenly all over the top.  (I used a half-cup measuring spoon to spread the liquid sugar over the baked baklava, allow for better control of the sauce flow and placement.)  Allow the baklava pieces to sit and absorb for a minute, then drizzle on a little more until you think everything is thoroughly moistened. I made sure to pour the sauce both over the top of each piece, as well as to saturate the area in between each of the slices.  As I poured, I noticed liquid start to drip from the pan; I guess I did cut all the way through each piece – and then some.  Oops.  Hopefully enough liquid will remain inside the pan in order to allow the baklava to set up appropriately.  I guess I’ll find out in a few hours… You’ll likely have some of the honey mixture leftover, which you can drink with a straw. Just kidding. Nope, no leftover sauce for me.  I used it all – and a good thing, too, since a portion of it oozed out of the pan, anyway.  [Had I been thinking, I would have set the punctured pan inside another pan to contain the sauce.  But my mind didn’t consider that option until hours later.  *Sigh*.]

Allow the baklava to cool, uncovered, for several hours. Done.  Once cool and sticky and divine, carefully remove them from the pan and serve with coffee (or give as gifts!)

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After dinner this evening, my sweetie and I each tried a piece of the freshly made baklava.

The first piece.

The top layer was crunchy (yay), but separated too easily from the rest of the piece (boo).  But the remainder of the piece of baklava was fantastic.  It was sweet, but not cloyingly so.  It was certainly jam packed with nuts, yet also balanced with just the right amount of phyllo dough.  As I chomped through the small serving, I could tell that the bottom layer was too thin – so eating the piece was a slightly messier endeavor than it needed to be.  But it was still very, very tasty.  My husband agreed with my assessment, but also noted that he would like to eat his piece with vanilla ice cream next time.  Um, okay… (I think Greek people might take offense to that, but whatever.  Do what you want.  Fine by me.)  I chose to drink a cup of coffee along side my piece of baklava, and the pairing was perfect.

After I cleaned up the dinner dishes, I removed four pieces of baklava from the pan and placed them in a small container.  These are the pieces that will stay in our house; the remaining 26 pieces are going home with my friend, a woman with a husband and two boys.  She and the men in her life should have no problem polishing off the rest of the sweet treat.  If the entire pan of baklava stayed in my house, I fear that I might have eaten it all.  Within a day.

I’m confidently deeming today’s baklava endeavor a big success.  I now know that I am capable of making very tasty baklava, and that creating such a complex-looking dish is not nearly as difficult as I once believed it to be.  I love adding new skills to my repertoire; and I think my mom would be pleased with my efforts, too.

Stef

P.S. For anyone who is curious, here is the nutritional info for a single piece of baklava (assuming that the pan is cut into 32 pieces).  185 calories, 13 g fat, 18 g carbohydrate, 1.5 g fiber, 11.5 g sugar, 2 g protein.  Not the healthiest thing on the planet, but definitely tasty!

Sweet sharing, complaisant counsel

Early this morning I logged on to my computer and began the routine task of sifting through my emails.  As I flipped past a few “deals” and deleted a few FYI-only notes, I saw a message from one of my former-coworkers-now-friends.  As I read the message, I learned that a conversation I had with a third colleague earlier in the week was having a ripple effect – and my friend was writing to share with me the positive impact that the 20-minute conversation on Wednesday I had with the third party was having on her life today.  She then asked about writing, stating, “Anything you have to share (even as simple as ‘you can do this!’) would be wonderful! Any tips/tricks/advise or words of wisdom would be amazing!!  I hope this note made you smile a bit today and helps you realize what an impact you and your blog are making.”

These very kind words indeed made me smile (more than ‘a bit’) – but I will also confess that initially, my friend’s request for advice threw me back a bit.  As I read her words, the very first thought that entered my mind was, “Who the heck am I to be giving advice about writing?  I’m just some gal in her home typing words on a screen for fun; I’m not a professional journalist or novelist or anything…”  But then, I caught myself.  While it’s true that I don’t get paid to create my blog(s), I have been writing for a few years now, and I am pretty good at this skill.  So I gave my friend’s request a bit more thought, then shared my perspective with her:

“Tip 1: Write about what you know. I find my best posts come when I am writing from a place grounded in my own personal experience. I leave speculation out of my entries. (I also try to leave it out of my life in general.)

Tip 2: Write from a space of positive intentions. I can talk about difficult topics (indeed, I have written about things like death and hurt and pain in the past), but I want to do so with the spirit/intention of compassion and healing, not causing more pain in the world. (IMO, there is enough of that already.)

Tip 3: Wait 24 hours before pressing the “Publish” button. When I write, I typically follow a three-step process: Step 1 is that I write a ‘nearly final’ draft, where my primary goal is getting all of my thoughts on paper. Usually that first draft is pretty decent. A few hours later, I go through the draft again, this time cleaning it up (fixing punctuation, making slightly different word choices, re-working a few sentences to make them flow easier or read more clearly, etc.). Then I wait 24 hours. The next day (or two days later), I read the post again. With this run-through, the dominant question I hold in my mind is, “Would my future self be okay with seeing these words a week, month, year, decade from now?” I.e., am I writing anything that is questionable, hurtful, or just plain crazy? That final read-through has spared me quite a bit of embarrassment and discomfort.

Tip 4: Have fun! If you are going to initiate writing as a hobby, then above all, it should be more fun than work. The day it stops becoming fun is the day you should either mix things up, or give it up and try something else.”

Before I pressed the “Send” button, I reflected on our two notes.  As I read through both messages a final time, I felt a smile broadening on my face.  I love this very simple example of the butterfly effect; and I hope that by sharing this post, my friend, our mutual colleague, and I can all support the forward movement of positive energy, and help it expand and grow even more…

Stef

Yoga wisdom, yoga love

In yoga class today, the teacher explained, “You don’t need to chase all over the place looking for love – all you need to do is increase the love that is already inside of you.  It’s been there all along – just help it grow, and you will have all the love you ever need.”

Immediately I was struck by the beauty (and power!) of the statement.  On this day when “love” can feel more like an insult than a blessing, my wish is that everyone feels the true, deep love of their own heart.  Namaste.

Stef