I Love Ayurvedic Self-Care Practices

Ayurvedic practices started as oral tradition and then were recorded in Sanskrit about 5,000 years ago (1).   There are lots of websites that talk about it if you Google it, but at the Gaiam site, there is a compact section describing their top-ten self-care Ayurvedic practices.  

Some of these practices are instinctive like splashing water on your face first thing in the morning; some I have been using for years (yoga, meditation, tongue scraping), and some of them I have been trying to do, such as going to bed early and drinking lukewarm water in the morning first thing.   However, with C-19, there are two Ayurvedic self-care practices I decided to try: (1) using a neti pot, which is cleansing my nose, and (2) abhyanga, which is self-massage using warm oil.  

Both of these practices have helped me so much.   

With the neti pot practice, I find I breathe better, smell things better, and my food tastes better.   I notice I seldom have the sniffles.  And, as much as I hate to admit that I started snoring as I got older, the neti practice seems to have reduced the volume and/or almost eliminated this obnoxious habit too.  Who knew?

In March 2020, I started an abhyanga practice after I realized that I would be isolated and alone for a few months.   With no one around to give me a hug, a kiss, or hold my hand, I knew I was missing touch, so I ordered my bottle of organic sesame oil, and watched the video at Banyan Botanicals.  My daughter, who was quarantined in Austria at the time, roared with laughter when I told her I was "oiling myself."

But, it was amazing how "oiling myself" hydrated my skin, how it warmed and relaxed me, and how great my complexion looked.  And, while I have always had great skin, the addition of castor oil to the warm sesame oil seemed to push back time and wrinkles, which helped me combat the ravages of the alcohol I had been drinking.   Plus, I got to listen to great stories and podcasts as I applied the oil. .  What I noticed most, is that by deliberately taking time to take care of my body, it simultaneously helped my mental wellness: I felt better, slept better, ate better and I didn't drink as much.

What I know is that C-19 has altered the way I think and feel about things, how I think and feel about others, and how I think and feel about myself.  It's why I think I really MUST be deliberate in how I take care of my physical self--now more than ever!!  My body is essentially this entity that carries around my thoughts and feelings, and all of these thoughts and feelings are held in my cells.  More than anything, I want to feel good so I can feel good about the uncertainties ahead.  

Even though I have more one-on-one interaction with my family now, I know I will continue these practices.  I know that every time I take care of myself, I am taking care of who I will be in the future.   Besides, they work! they make me feel good, and I love them!!!

 

I Love Making Enchiladas

Ever since C-19, my consumption of vegan and vegetarian meals has increased.   To make it easy on myself, I roast a lot of vegetables and make enough grains to last the week.  

Most of the time, I eat bowls of grains and beans, with seasonal vegetables.  To make the bowls more interesting, I sprinkle nuts and add in some kind of pickle or maybe a little cheese.   After awhile, though, the bowls start tasting the same.  That's when I know my imagination needs a boost, and I turn to ethnic flavors.   

When I think about the world, I think how amazing it is that same ingredients become something else depending on the country and imagination.  Like I said I eat grains and vegetables  ... but with just a few additions, the bowls become Mexican enchiladas when I mix my grain (farro) with my beans (black beans) and seasonal vegetables (roasted potatoes and carrots) ... toss in some chopped onion and frozen corn ... which I might have in a bowl anyway ... 

These ingredients (essentially a bowl) transform as I add cumin and some salsa verde to the mixture and stuff into corn tortillas.  Taken a bit further, I cover them with a can of summer tomatoes and diced jalapeños, throw on some cheese and bake.   

Absolute magic!  Same ingredients ... and it satisfies everything! 

AMANDA'S ENCHILADAS

INGREDIENTS

pre-cooked farro (cooked in vegetable stock-mostly onion/garlic)

black beans

a little bit of roasted vegetable (potato and carrot)

chopped onion

frozen corn

salsa verde

cumin and salt to taste

MIX THE ABOVE AND STUFF INTO

corn tortillas

and

PLACE IN A CASSEROLE DISH

TOP ENCHILADAS WITH

chopped can of tomato

diced pickled jalapeño

or a jar of salsa

TOP THIS WITH

mexican cheese

STICK IN THE OVEN

375 to 400 until the cheese bubbles.

About 40 minutes.

I Love Fairy Houses

In the last couple of years, I have become fascinated with fairy houses. My fascination initially started when I went to the Fairy Fest at Lakewold Gardens in Washington State about three years ago with my husband's grandchildren ... but perhaps even before, since I had installed a fairy door on my favorite tree in Rochester.    But, by seeing them in the gardens, it was magical, and I could imagine a tiny presence dwelling there.   

Since that time, my husband has built several and entered his houses into the Lakewold Gardens festival.  I love how he uses the natural materials he finds on the property--tree stumps, feathers, moss, fern, etc.--  to transform them into the magical houses.   

Now that the houses are here, they are becoming part of the experience of being here.   They delight; they inspire imagination ...  

I Love My Old Work Shirt

To anyone else, this shirt may look like a rag, but every stain, rip, and drop of paint on it tells a story.  It’s why I love this old denim work shirt, and why I pay tribute to it today.   

 

In the spring of 1998, one of the wholesale houses had a huge stack of 100% cotton denim shirts on sale, and I bought an XL one because I was pregnant with my daughter.   As my belly expanded and I became increasingly awkward, I found leggings to be comfortable, so the shirt became something I wore every day as a light overcoat because it was big enough to go over my t-shirts and around my middle, and long enough to cover my backside.  It was practical, easy to wash, and held my cell phone in the left pocket.   

 

After the birth, the shirt took on different responsibilities as it helped me keep my clothes clean from baby spills and burping, and the pocket became a place where I could store a small bottle of food.  It also became very useful in the garden, protecting me from the sun while keeping me cool.   During those years, I suppose I got so used to wearing it every day, that that’s why it became one of my go-to items of clothing.   When I look back over pictures, I can see I wore it often.   

 

As the shirt got older, it graduated to another job of protecting my clothes as I painted the house and tackled small home improvement projects.  It got a lot of different colors of paint on it over the years because I love to paint a room.  I love the way paint changes the feeling of a room, and I am always curious what a room will feel like when painted an odd color.  Most of my paint came off the ‘Oops’ clearance paints, and I learned a lot about color and light because of that.  Of course, my trusty work shirt was right there to support my painting habit.

 

When I see all the paint drops on the shirt today, it reminds me of all those happy times of painting. and I see how the shirt is a record of all the love and hard work I poured into making my home a place I love to be. 

 

Last year I found a couple of denim shirts to replace it, and this year, my lovely friend, Melissa sent me one she embroidered.   I love them just as much.   Eventually I will have to retire my old work shirt to my paint rags, but until then, it will remain in my closet, a faithful friend, and ready to help.  

 

I love Audiobooks

Hearing a good story seems to do my heart and mind a lot of good. With the isolation, I have found the voices of the readers to be good company, and through them, I have gotten to know writing styles, met amazing characters, and taken myself to new worlds with every story.    Even before C-19, I made a habit of listening to good stories--downloading them from my public library.  As a resident of New York, I am fortunate to have access to the Monroe County Library System as well as the New York Public Library.  Between the two, I can usually find a good book to listen to at any time.  With the online system, the library is always open.

As my daily artistic life moves from creating musical scores (both classical and theatrical) into the realm of the visual arts (drawing and illustrating), I often put on an audiobook while I am working.  It seems to go well with the activity.  Because of the audiobooks, it is interesting to observe the differences between the two creative disciplines.

When creating music, I actively listen to something from another realm.  I create that sound, and then make choices about the way it should be notated for its future re-creation.  The movements of my body and mind are working together with my hearing (both internal and external) and sight.  This process takes my full attention and I try to avoid any distraction that would take away that focus. 

With the visual arts, my mind is engaged in a completely different way.  My mind directs the hand as my eyes take in the information of what the hand creates.  Once a mark is made, my mind judges it and directs the process.  Like music, there is no outside auditory stimulation in its process, but still I am listening and hearing my inner thoughts.    

Visual arts require patience.  Often, I must make repeated brush strokes and layer color,.  The repetition takes time and my mind must wait for the strokes to happen; it is ahead of what my body can do.  While I am making marks, this leaves time for other thoughts to enter as I am working.   When this happens, one thought may wander into circles of thought, and if those circles of thought are positive ones, all is well.  If destructive, then I do myself harm. 

Audiobooks seem to solve the problem, and listening to stories seems to help me focus even more on the physical work at hand.   I find it's double the enjoyment--making beautiful art and listening to stories.  Over the months of listening, I also notice that my listening skills have improved.  I seem to pay more attention to what others are saying in real life, and it is easier to remember names and details.  

What amazes me even more is of the marvelous and varied talents of the great readers.  

Some of my favorite stories of late have been from Young Adult series.  I love the Phillip Pullman, Sally Lockhart mysteries.  Oh my goodness!!  The reader, Anton Lesser, is absolutely amazing!  I have never felt such fear as he takes on the voices of the evil characters, and I always wonder if Sally will survive.   It's great!  

Alan Bradley's Flavia de Luce series, read by Jayne Entwistle, is also excellent.   She recounts the inner thoughts and tales of a young English girl enamored with chemistry and solving mysteries.  The character is delightful and Entwistle is brilliant.

I also just finished and loved the Enola Holmes series by Nancy Springer.  Netflix made a recent movie of this character, but the story Netflix tells doesn't even come close to the wonderful stories of the books.  The books are intriguing and so smart, and anyone who liked the movie will probably enjoy the books even more.

All in all, audiobooks are wonderful.  My life is better because of them.  It makes me so glad I have my library card and this time to listen.   

I Love the Bassoon!!

Until my daughter was three-years-old, I never paid much attention to the bassoon.  I liked it, of course.  As an orchestrator, I ­love every instrument, and believe the bassoon to be an unusual and misunderstood instrument—filled with character and often comic, color support for lower strings … but beautiful on its own—and essential to overall orchestral sound.  But until I took my child to ESSO (Eastman School Symphony Orchestra) concerts, I had never stopped to think about it as an instrument that ignites someone’s passions.

In picture books about the orchestra, she was instantly drawn to the bassoon, knew all the instruments by name, and what they sounded like because of my work.   At the concerts, we would look for the instruments, but what was amazing is that while the orchestra was warming up, she would pat my arm and say, “Mama!   Mama!  Do you hear the bassoon? Do you hear the bassoon?”   

 

No!  I didn’t.  

 

Honestly for me, it was hard to hear a bassoon in a mixture of orchestral warm-ups, although if you listen specifically for its timbre, you can hear it.   That’s why it was so amazing that she could hear it so easily and get so excited about it.   

 

When she was four-years-old, I was working on my post-baccalaureate music teacher certification, I studied woodwind methods and brought a bassoon home, which she LOVED!   She was enthralled when putting a bassoon together and loved to help me.  

 

It is quite the process, and she would lay the seat strap down, go get clean water for the reed, watch me put the bassoon together, and wait for me to practice.   She loved blowing into the reed.  She even loved helping me take it apart, clean it, and put it back into the case. 

 

For a long time, I thought she would become a bassoon player, but she chose to play the flute instead.  From elementary school through college she played ... until she went through an Immersion Program at Eastman three years ago.  

 

There, she checked out a bassoon during the Christmas break and started studying with a teacher through the Eastman Community School.  In the Spring, she bought a bassoon (expensive and no small feat) and took her bassoon to Austria during her Fulbright, and studied in a conservatory for two years.  Now, she is back in Rochester, studying again with a teacher, recently auditioned for the orchestra, and now plays in the University of Rochester Symphony Orchestra.   

 

To watch such growth in such a short period of time is remarkable, but seeing an instrument bring so much joy to someone is thrilling.  This is love in action, and I love the bassoon because of it.  I can’t help but reflect on that excited question of long ago: “Mama! Mama! Do you hear the bassoon?”

 

Yes!!  You bet I do! ... and I love the bassoon!!

Slaying Monsters

Around Valentine's Day a few years ago, I decided to learn a little bit about archery.  I have always loved the romanticism associated with archery.  Perhaps it is Cupid, a god who can shoot a bullseye with a few feathers on a stick, straight into the heart with his little bow.   

From a physics standpoint, it’s amazing how an arrow flies through the air and into the target.  There is so much to consider: distance and wind, as well as the force with which the arrow leaves the string.   All sorts of things must be considered from the shooter too: stance, aim, angles, release, to name only a few.  But then, I don’t profess to be a great archer, nor have I ever aspired to be a scientist or a physicist, so perhaps my desire to shoot came the scene in the film of Edith Wharton’s “Age of Innocence”, where Winona Rider shoots perfectly, and wins a diamond archery pin.  

 

But who cares about reason?  Archery is fun.  

 

Looking around on the Internet, I found a Genesis Bow.  I love it!!  Mine is a compound bow, royal blue, and perfect for my level of shooting.   I also ordered bright colored arrows!  

 

Out in Spanaway, my husband, Awesome Doug, created a safe space for shooting, and we gathered all our plastic wrappers and stuffed them into a canvas bag to make a target.    Since I knew the target would be blank and wasn’t going to be round, I was inspired to paint something on the canvas to shoot.  

 

Thinking about what to paint, I knew I didn’t want it to be an animal.  I would hate to think of myself as killing an innocent animal.  But, what about monsters?  I don’t mind slaying a monster.  Monsters are figurative, and as we get older, we always seem to gather more and more of them into our lives—these emotional monsters of thought that torture us and make us unhappy with our regrets, our grief, our guilts and frustrations.   

 

Amazingly, by painting an enormous monster on the canvas and filling it full of holes, it became a satisfying and therapeutic practice.   Oddly, over time, I find that I love the monsters that I shoot.  It’s like I am making friends with them, and the monster serves a useful purpose.   

 

We had to retire our first blue monster; he was too full of holes, but I couldn’t throw him away.   Instead, he is hanging up down at the shooting range in a make-do Hall of Fame.  Perhaps, he will be a mentor to the next monster we will slay!