#smallstone – week 4

Tags

#smallstone, A River of Stones, Creative Writing, mindful writing, PTSD

The final week of my daily Small Stones.

Reflections on writing Small Stones

When I was drowning in PTSD and depression, I wished away my days. I hoped that by doing so, I’d somehow magically reach the end of the seemingly perpetual torment I lived in. So I did everything I could to numb myself and withdraw from the world, noticing no one or thing. Every moment was painful, or so I thought.

This task of mindful writing – January’s Small Stones – tells me another story.

I’ve learned that even when I’m having a bad day, I don’t have to file the entire day under “C for Crap”, writing off everything about it. Even if the bad things that happened on a particular day only took an hour or two, I’d paint the whole thing black (yes, just like The Stones).

Actually, while I was in the deathly grip of PTSD, I’d paint entire months the same dark shade and did everything I could to look nowhere. Not in the mirror and certainly not in anyone’s eyes, or beautiful things in nature. It was too… hard.

So maybe I was noticing things. But I was noticing them only to squash them. To kill off any memories of any day because those days were plagued with a never-ending loop of terror and I lived every single one of them like I was fighting for my life.

Now that it’s years later, I am free from PTSD. Sometimes the period of chronic trauma and stress I lived through feels like a dream and sometimes… it’s this new life that that feels that way.

Writing Small Stones – as insignificant as it might seem, even to me sometimes – provides a practice of noticing. And noticing is something I ask of my yoga students. What do you see/feel/think while you’re doing your practice? How do you feel? Are you comfortable? What sensations are you experiencing??

So writing Small Stones, too, works hand-in-hand with the philosophy and practice of yoga. It doesn’t matter if you don’t do it but if you DO… then something will happen. Something will change and blossom within your heart and mind.

Your connection to the world and yourself changes. There’s a sense of respect and intimacy that develops.

This is indeed, yoga.

I’m not sure if I’ll keep writing Small Stones every single day. But then again, perhaps I will. Either way, I’ ll use this lovely tool of noticing the world and writing down my observations frequently.

Finally, I hope you enjoy the last of my January Small Stones writings below…

Monday 23rd:

In the heat, everything expands, blows up, and blows out.

Overheating = chaos, Summer’s peril.

~~

Tuesday 24th:

A new student of yoga

But an old hand in dealing with life’s messes

Dulled eyes at half mast as though

Sunset shines there instead of midday’s blazing glory

He writes: “Just crazy” on his intake form

But!

I watch as midday returns brilliance to his eyes

As we move through the practice hour

Temporarily perhaps, for now.

~~

Wednesday 25th:

A brilliant golden memory from the weekend…

His eyes expressing volumes

As he takes in her face

(How amazing, he marvels

The brilliance of your body

Produced our daughter

Our amazing, perfect little girl

If I loved you before, now I worship you

Because you’ve granted me this miracle!)

Expressed with no words,

Just a twinkle in his eye.

~~

Thursday 26th:

An internal day

The result of over-indulgence

And too much sunshine

Both depleting crucial moisture

Leaving me couch-bound

The cat is my only companion

~~

Friday 27th:

Today I see my self-delusions in full flight

Turning one story into another

Making actions far more meaningful than ever intended

So I step away and shake myself awake

~~

Saturday 28th:

Trauma, it seems

Seals off the entrance to

The Great Womb of the Universe

That which engenders creativity

Life and light

And so the healing of trauma

Also heals the Womb of the Universe

~~

Sunday 29th:

Three brown berries

Glowingly tanned

And squidgy with youth

Cooling off under shade cloth

In a small cerulean plastic clam

~~

Monday 30th:

The manic-ness of broken-down trains

Learning to work without a net once more

And missing out on dearly held plans

Tests the boundaries of acceptance

~~

Tuesday 31st:

They appear as clumps

Of gum leaves

Designing the tree top with

Small shrub-like shapes

~~

[ small stone round up week 1 ]

[ small stone round up week 2 ]

[ small stone round up week 3 ]

~ Svasti

#smallstone – week 3

Tags

#smallstone, A River of Stones, Creative Writing, mindful writing

With a little over one week left of this January writing challenge, I feel like I’m starting to hit my stride.

My final Small Stones post will cover the last nine days of the month. I hope you enjoy these microscopic peeks into my world!

Week three of my daily Small Stones.

Monday 16th:

Nature’s evaporator = a heavy sun factor reflected on concrete / Burning oil from the eucalyptus trees perfumes the city / Close your eyes and be transported.

~~

Tuesday 17th:

Not the usual suburban kerb-side garden / Stones and succulents / Settle at the feet of a teenage tree.

~~

Wednesday 18th:

Wide open greens / Nine holes / Anonymous somebodies with time on their hands / Hitting tiny balls into tiny holes / Is this space’s raison d’être.

~~

Thursday 19th:

Relief is apparent on bodies and faces / As our train emerges from underground / Phone reception returns / Every second person is heads down / Thumbs are suddenly busy.

~~

Friday 20th:

Ordinary beauty: a profusion of purple and white /
Divide two sides of the road.

~~

Saturday 21st:

Sailing seas of fluffy whiteness / Seen from above, not below / Beneath the wings, above the weather / Northward, we zoom above the world.

~~

Sunday 22nd:

Five old friends / Two squishy new people, born weeks apart / Lunch overlooking nature’s array of bushland beauty / Mutual love and enjoyment all-round.

~~

[ small stone round up week 1 ]

[ small stone round up week 2 ]

~ Svasti

#smallstone – week 2

Tags

#smallstone, A River of Stones, Creative Writing, mindful writing

Week two of my daily Small Stones.

I didn’t realise how much this little project would feel like a meditation. Just a handful of minutes of my day observing and then later, writing down my thoughts. Nor did I realise it would quietly draw me out from the fuzzy little cocoon I still live in sometimes.

These words might seem like tiny things, but each observation represents a magical moment in time that I could’ve missed, had I not been paying attention.

The world, in all of it’s mysteries is a fascinating place if only we let it in…

Monday 9th:

Just when I my world feels as if it’s entirely a mess / I plan for the yoga class I’ll teach tomorrow night / Thinking of my students’ needs / Generates clarity and calm.

~~

Tuesday 10th:

Concrete rectangle, will you one day be a home? How strange if so…

~~

Wednesday 11th:

The wind gives expression to the desires of trees / Their branches dance a symphony of conversation.

~~

Thursday 12th:

Tiny dirty paw prints meander across the kitchen counter / Announcing that I’ve absent-mindedly / Left the cat food out overnight.

~~

Friday 13th:

Grey men in grey suits on trams / Talking about their divorces and insomnia / And corporate box seats to the tennis.

~~

Saturday 14th:

Five jade coloured bathroom Buddhas smile wisely / As I go about my business / Neither seeing nor saying / They wait and watch eternally.

~~

Sunday 15th:

She speaks apologies from her hunch-shouldered posture / Steady brown eyes full of purpose as she looks up / And haltingly asks for a few coins / I hand her my change and she takes my hand / God bless you she says / As she totters away.

~~

[ #smallstone roundup week 1 ]

[ #smallstone roundup week 3 ]

~ Svasti

#smallstone – week 1

Tags

#smallstone, A River of Stones, Creative Writing, mindful writing

Presenting my first round up of daily Small Stones…

Sunday 1st:

A pale-skinned, black clad and haired youth in 30C+ heat on the Windsor sidewalk. Is he dancing as if underwater, still drunk or high at 5pm on New Years Day? Or both?

~~

Monday 2nd:

Superbly ripened and resting on the grass, their yellowness like brilliant beacons inviting collection. On closer inspection though, they’re all too squishy to touch. Over-ripe. The best are still hidden between darkest green leaves and rusty brown branches.

~~

Tuesday 3rd:

The grey-haired man in the plain taupe shirt peels bark from the supermarket carpark tree, as if tidying up for company. Then wriggles down Nelson, towards Carlisle. Crossing to a street-light pole festooned with layers of posters, and cleans off excess sticky tape as it waves in the breeze.

~~

Wednesday 4th:

She sits and stares with knowing golden eyes, her voice expressive tho I can’t quite catch the meaning. Her paw reaches towards my chest but we’ve yet to breach the human-feline veil that scrambles her thoughts for me and mine for her.

~~

Thursday 5th:

And then there’s Alfie, all three foot nothing with his shiny cobalt eyes and wispy strawberry curls. Skin glistening and his excited wee voice gleefully lisps “Toot! Toot!” on repeat.

~~

Friday 6th:

Perhced on the weathered bus stop seat, sooty tail swinging and golden eyes gleaming, she waits for the bus. Oh kitty!

~~

Saturday 7th:

How can it be that such a thing – a profusion of glorious violet trumpet-shaped blooms – could in reality be a noxious weed?

~~

Sunday 8th:

Seemingly manifesting under my left armpit as though that’s where she was born. Flitters around my bike, then away! Over to the tall green shrubbery where her orange and black hues are more pronounced. How much of her life was this moment?

~~

[ #smallstone roundup week 2 ]

[ #smallstone roundup week 3 ]

~ Svasti

A River of Stones 2012

Tags

#reverb10, #smallstone, A River of Stones, mindful writing, Small Stone 2012, writing challenge, writing prompt

This time last year, I participated in the #Reverb10 writing challenge. But due to the rather hectic time I was having in November and December (not to mention going to Bali!), I realised I wouldn’t be able to join in again this time.

However, for the month of January 2012 I’ll be taking part in A River of Stones 2012 (AROS).

Why? Because a few people I know have already committed, and because it’s exciting as a writer to be challenged by someone else’s ideas.

AROS asks writers to partake in mindful writing – observation of the world around us, and write a few lines about that observation each day.

The first challenge for me might very well be about keeping each observation small, since I tend towards longer prose (read: it can be hard to shut me up!). But I’m excited to be doing this.

It is suggested that writers keep a notebook for their observations, and I realised I already have one.

I’d never been able to think of the perfect purpose for Karin’s amazing notebook, but I do believe this is it!

Utterly perfect, no?

So the plan is to write up my small stones in my lovely notebook, and then once a week I’ll post them here.

Perhaps you’d like to join this writing challenge, too?

Anyone can, so feel free to jump in, feet first. 🙂

~Svasti

Happy New Year & final #reverb10

Tags

#reverb10, Air Bourne, beer, champagne, cobwebs, core story, Growth, Healing, honesty, learning, Love, New Years Eve, Service, Truth, Yoga, You Am I

A little of last night's liquid joy 😉

Happy New Year, everyone!

Isn’t it wonderful to be here on the first day of a brand new year?

I hope you enjoyed your new year’s celebrations, whatever form they took.

For the first time in too many years and perhaps not entirely wisely, I decided that I’d go out for the evening and get down with my funky (??!) self. Haha. So I ended up at a live music gig at a Melbourne landmark, the Espy Hotel. The line up featured You Am I and Air Bourne, lots of awesomeness there!

Much fun was had, ridiculous amounts of beer were consumed (after the champagne I drank at home – I can’t tell you how rare such a boozy night is for me!) and many insane tweets were sent (if you missed out on those, consider yourself lucky!).

So here we are, the final #reverb10 post, and the first day of a brand new year. It’s been really interesting writing about personal topics based on other people’s questions, and fascinating to realise as a result just how central and deeply ingrained yoga really is to my life.

It’s also been a wonderful discipline to write almost every day and though I doubt I’ll keep that up for daily blog posts in future, I think I’ll aim to do some personal writing each day now. Coz it really helps keep the cobwebs from forming.

Core Story. What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world?
(Bonus: Consider your reflections from this month. Look through them to discover a thread you may not have noticed until today.)
~ December 31 prompt

My core story is a delicious cocktail (vodka martini, anyone?) of these things:

• Being of service – using whatever skills I possess to help those in need.
• Healing – myself and by extension, the way I interact with others
• Growth – change is always possible if we really want it enough.
• Learning, always learning – may I never stop!
• The giving and accepting of love – this heart of mine contains endless amounts of the stuff…
• Yoga – my saving grace, my teacher and my bestest buddy.
• Honesty – I’ll answer stuff honestly even if it’s not always to my advantage.
• Truth – the seeking of it, speaking and living it.

Reading back through my #reverb10 posts, these ARE the common threads. It’s all pretty much where I’m coming from as well as where I’m headed.

May your New Year be bright and full of love!

~Svasti xo

A most memorable gift #reverb10

Tags

#reverb10, charm, desperation, evil, evil eye, gifts, Grief, hamsa, Morocco, souk, travels

Gift. This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?
~ December 30 prompt

These are all gifts: love, hope, re-discovering my zest for life, creating new dreams, yoga, nieces, unexpected friendships, teaching, writing, personal revelations and crazy amounts of healing… and this year contained them all.

I’m having trouble however, propping up just one and pronouncing it the “most” memorable. Most. Like, more than the rest?

But I’d like to share with y’all gift my sister gave to me in November.

She and my brother-in-law took their two little girls to meet his family in Morocco. He’s the youngest of eight children and his mother is now very old. So old and wrinkly, that my eldest niece was terrified of her and told my sister that my brother-in-law’s mother eats children. Hehe! 😉

As an aside – a few months ago my sister came back to me and it was a balm for my heart. Finally, she acknowledged that she hadn’t really been there when I needed her the most. It was good.

Back to the story… just as my sister and her brood arrived at the airport for their enormous trip, I found myself experiencing feelings of abandonment. She rang to say goodbye and I realised (doh!) she actually WAS leaving the country for a whole month!

Guess I didn’t realise how much I relied on her being around. Even though we’re now grown up and no longer living in each other’s pockets, sharing the same bedroom, making up games, writing notes that we’d crumple up and launch across the room from one bed to another, having crazy little girl fights and dividing that room in half while negotiating terms for getting to the door or the wardrobe (on one side each of our “halves”).

These days there’s no time with all of her motherly duties to be giggling while eating ice-cream together, going on mad-cap adventures to re-live the tap classes of our youth or gossiping about boys over hot chocolates. Our relationship has changed; there’s less time to speak as sisters and even less than that to spend alone, just the two of us. Nowadays, there’s stuff we don’t know about each when we used to tell each other everything.

And despite our lack of connectedness, I keenly felt her impending absence like the sharpest of knives delicately pressing against my neck, leaving me breathless.

I broke down on the phone in my grief and sorrow, and I felt her desperation and powerlessness as she sat there doing her best with two little kids in an airport and about to leave the country. There was nothing either of us could do.

She heard me, I know that much. And she put a lot of effort into staying in touch while they were away. And it was good.

Finally they returned and there’s that whole present-buying thing people do. Returning home with trinkets from far-off places as if to say: please accept this tiny fragment of my experience.

And you know my feelings on “stuff” – that I want less of it – not extra “things” to feel obligated to have and hold and retain, for what reason?? If there’s one thing I’ve made abundantly clear about myself to my family, it’s that.

Regardless, I was a gift recipient as I knew I would be and I wanted to be grateful. A couple of decorative things from my parents (who’d also been overseas at the same time), and a tiny little box – perhaps an inch square – from my sister. Well, at least that one was small!

As I opened the box (red, green and silver foil) I exhaled and share a bonded moment of telepathy with my sister. Huh. Inside lying on cotton wool was this pendant:

It’s known as a hamsa – commonly worn as jewelery and/or displayed as an ornament in Moroccan homes in to ward off the “evil eye”.

And it is beautiful, elegantly and wordlessly conveying all of the wishes that I know live in my sister’s heart for me: to find love and happiness; for life to improve; for no more evil things to cross my path.

I can only offer my thanks, though I can’t look at her directly because if I do I might start sobbing. I can’t share words or in any other way convey my understanding of what she was thinking when, in a souq halfway around the world she bargained for this small piece of silver. I get it.

One of my birthday presents a couple of weeks ago was a white gold necklace to wear the pendant on – I’d nothing suitable – and since then I’ve worn it every day.

It’s not because I believe it can really ward me from evil as such (and anyway, I don’t really consider evil to be an entity like that). Rather, I wear it because it holds the promise of our sisterhood, and her very best wishes.

I love it very much, because that is a charm I can believe in. And it is very, very good.

~Svasti

Achievement & Defining Moments #reverb10

Tags

#reverb, 5 year anniversary, accomplished, achievements, Big Happy, Big Healing Moments, colours fading, defining moments, dose of hope, excited, free, moth-eaten, nightmares, pock-marked, proud, purposeful, relieved, sharp and pointy, sisterly love

Achieve. What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down.

Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.
~ December 28 prompt

As I’ve already said, I want to be debt-free by the end of 2011 in order to manage to make a huge change in my life.

I know I’m gonna need help on that front as I’m just not particularly sensible with money. I’ll need to do a bunch of research and take a cold hard look at my money spending/saving habits in the house of mirrors. But I know it’s possible if I am relentless in my thriftiness!

But… oh gosh, how will I feel once I get to that point? Of being debt-free? In the clear? Out of the red?

I’ll feel…

• proud
• purposeful
• accomplished
• excited
• relieved
• Oh, and free

Yeah, definitely!

Because I’ll be on my way, with Part 1 of my Grand-Bold-Stupid-Reckless-Awesome-Totally-Kicking-Life-Plan done and dusted!

So how can I feel/think those feelings right now, with that goal of mine still off in the distant future?

Hmmmm… I’m proud of how far I’ve come, the shit storms I’ve had to face and how deeply I’ve had to dig for the truth. Its way better out than in.

I most definitely feel purposeful already. Dudes, I got myself a plan, the first one I’ve had in YEARS. And that causes a huge amount of excitement!!

There’s a lot of stuff I feel accomplished in – such as completing my first yoga teacher training and having the courage to start teaching. Although… that’s not to say there isn’t more to learn and become accomplished in for those things. Just that hey… what I’ve done so far is cool. 😉

I guess I’m relieved that I know where I’m going for once. Even if my plan changes, even if nothing works out like I want it to, at least I’ve worked out what I want. That really helps.

There’s freedom in being clear about what I don’t want, too. And in the joy of learning to teach, discovering new things about myself and other people as I do. There’s even freedom in making mistakes along that journey because those mistakes inform and refine what I say and do while I teach.

And all of it gently leading me onwards, sometimes with a gentle nudge and other times more forcefully. Forging this new, expanded sense of self: a version of me with a wide open heart, smiling, and with a direct line to my gut instincts at all times…

::

Defining Moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.
~ December 29 prompt

A series of defining events, you say? Yessum, I got those!

This year has been choc-full of Big Healing Moments. But rather than give you the reader’s digest version, y’all can read (or re-read) these posts if you like…

• Rock ‘n’ Roll, Love, Hate & The Universe – on how sometimes your greatest nightmares can manifest right in front of your face…
• And so now for the Epic-ness – on sisterly love and finally being seen…
• Happy 5 year anniversary to me! – on what happened on the very night at the very time this post was being written 5 years later…
• Blowing up the Death Star – on what I did with all that anniversary business…

We all have defining moments, don’t we? But unless you write them down they’re easy to forget, their colours fading like a painting left in the sun. What was once vibrant and colourful becomes watery looking and a little fuzzy around the edges.

Especially if your memory is anything like mine: all pock-marked, moth-eaten and ragged around the edges.

Reading back over some of my earliest blog posts, I’m sometimes surprised by what I’ve written. The intensity of those experiences, how desperately sad and devastating it all was… thank goodness I don’t feel like that now.

It’s the nature of pain to fade – even if it takes years to do so – becoming less sharp and pointy over time, turning into a strong memory that’ll never be forgotten. But it fades so we can keep going. So we can survive.

Of course, it’s not like I’ll ever forget what happened but it’s a good thing to have a record, like this blog. If I hadn’t spent so much time writing about it, I might’ve completely forgotten what it was like to be in those moments and I sure as hell wouldn’t have worked through things as (relatively) quickly as I have. Five years isn’t too bad, right?

But I won’t allow myself to forget entirely. If I did, then how could I ever help someone else who is dealing with PTSD, depression or anxiety?

The writing helps me work through the worst of it, and also helps others in need of their own dose of hope. I know this because every now and then I get an email or a comment on one of my posts that says as much. I can’t tell you how much those messages make my heart sing!

So I write about my defining moments because there is hope, there is healing, and somewhere out there is what the BlissChick calls “Big Happy” for all of us.

~Svasti xxx

Yoga Tattuesday & Ordinary Joy #reverb10

Tags

#reverb10, Anxiety, back seat driver, big gaping hole, Depression, disassociation, Enlightenment, fairy floss, fork in the road, Meditation, morbid alternative, ordinary joy, Self-destruction, sense of enjoyment, spaciousness, vacuum, Yoga, Yoga Tattuesday

Before I get into the next #reverb10 post, I just wanted to mention that Birdie over at Yogi, Interrupted has written a feature post on my tattoo as part of her Yoga Tattuesday series.

Go check it out and say hello to Birdie! 😀

Ordinary Joy. Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?
~ December 27 prompt

Actually, this year has had a bunch of them. Mostly as I previously described: those moments when I’ve realised that depression is no longer running the show.

Where I’ve been surprised by my own darkness-free sense of enjoyment. Free of anxiety, even. Those moments are almost unbelievable and they appear a little bit mysteriously. Think of fairy floss magically wrapping itself around a stick: there’s other forces at work, but to the naked eye things suddenly appear to change.

Like… hey, I think I’m feeling pretty happy right now. For no particular reason… Fuck, but that can be mind-blowing when you’re used to a more morbid alternative!

Don’t get me wrong, depression still sticks its nose out every so often looking for a soft place to land and dig in. That’s its nature. Once it’s had a taste of you, it always wants more. Although it should be noted that the “it” I’m referring to is none other than our own minds. Depression is not an imposition from the outside, but one way that our brain functions or rather, dysfunctions.

Over time the onset of depression’s symptoms get easier to recognise and as long as I’m still doing yoga, riding my bike and connecting with nature then it can’t easily get a foothold.

Not that it doesn’t try.

Most interestingly, while examining my mind recently I noticed that depression shares the same root experience as meditation. A sense of spaciousness. A big gaping hole. A vacuum.

However if you’re not prepared for that kind of spaciousness, it can be very scary. It can even look a little bit like death. No matter who you are or how much work you’ve done on yourself it can be quite shocking.

I know this from my own experience – I’ve been shocked several times now, via both depression and meditation.

And perhaps depression is just one fork in the road, a really well-trodden path because the alternative is… what? Self-destruction?

Unless you’ve had any meditation experience, then there aren’t really too many other roads to take. You can’t see them and even if you could, they wouldn’t make much sense. Because there’s just too much noise going on there in the ol’ mind.

Problem is, once you’ve become acquainted with that sense of empty space, it never really goes away. In fact, it can be a little bit like the worst back seat driver imaginable. Always commenting and shadowing your actions, seemingly not being helpful at all. Butting in when you wish they’d just SHUT THE HELL UP! Ever present and waiting, causing unnecessary stress.

Until we learn to relax and humour it: the back seat driver; depression. Take your pick. Life isn’t going to end because of them, not unless we allow it to.

This is why I say that yoga and meditation had as much to do with my recovery as all the therapy I’ve ever had.

The physical practice of yoga – all that movement and controlled breathing – was just what I needed to get out of my head, because depression lives in the mind and then invades the body.

To build up my sensitivity in order to dispel disassociation. To sense and feel in ways that weren’t too scary.

The practice of meditation helps us understand the mind’s vagaries and also provides discipline. And it is this discipline that we need in order to free ourselves of the endless terrors the mind will cook up if we let it.

Endless hours of this kind of work: vigilant observation of the mind; moving my sorry ass around instead of sinking further into the couch; feeling, even when it was painful to do so; facing the truth about my experiences, as much as they hurt.

And my reward is this: these little moments of ordinary joy.

Of rejoicing in a glorious sunny day while waiting for the train.

Of skipping gleefully down some street and noticing the beauty of a tangled mess of tree roots.

Of talking to animals I come across, just to say hello.

A cute random dog I befriended on the street

Of that incredible high I get post-yoga class, body and mind engaged and experiencing life fully as an integrated mind-body awareness. Less a singular person and more a living organism, just a part of the whole.

Of all of those things and more. Ordinary moments of joy, indeed.

~Svasti

Soul food and photos – a #reverb10 compilation

Tags

#reverb10, beginners luck, Depression, foodie, Healing, images, obsession, Photos, Poached Egg Maestro, poached eggs, PTSD, self-portrait, Soul food, Yoga

Soul Food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul?
~ December 26 prompt

I confess: I’m not a foodie. I WISH I felt the passion for food and pouring over cookbooks that many of my friends do. But no. For me, food is mostly functional and when I’m enjoying a meal, it’s not the food I remember so much as the company.

However, there is a dish that’s inspired me this year: the humble and beautiful poached egg.

Eggs served on avocado, kale and spinach & topped with cracked pepper

Don’t you just think there’s something so wholesome and wonderful about them? I do. The way they look, all imperfectly wrapped up in a swoosh of egg white. The perky-to-runny yolks (depending on preference). The many elegant ways of serving them – my current favourite is toasted English muffins spread with cream cheese, whole grain mustard and rocket leaves and topped with the eggs, cracked pepper and shaved parmesan. Yum!

The inception of my poached egg obsession was the very special day CK and I planned for Shiv’s birthday in Sydney on 1^st January. Part of our plan was to make a picnic brunch, including the aforementioned eggs. Neither CK or I had much experience with them, but luckily I had chef-like friends who did!

So I watched keenly as one of my very good friends made our breakfast and days later at CK’s apartment in her tiny kitchenette, I was in the driver’s seat. The newly appointed Poached Egg Maestro! And call it beginners luck, but somehow that first batch worked out perfectly.

That’s when the real work began though: it’s all about the technique and being able to reproduce excellent poached googs on a moment’s notice.

So for many months of 2010, I’d make them for myself every weekend.

And here’s what I learned:

How to make awesome poached eggs

The first thing you need to know about making proper poached eggs is to use a deep frypan or a shallow saucepan. Add a dash of vinegar to the water and let it boil. Once it’s boiled, turn the heat down to a simmer so it’s not splashing hot water around violently while you try to slide your eggs in!

While you waited for your water to boil, you’ve already cracked open each egg into an individual cup (or do them one at a time and use the same cup). Use a spoon to make a whirlpool in the water and once you’ve got a good little funnel going, empty the egg into the middle.

It’ll swirl around for a bit before it gets down to the business of cooking. The artistry of poached eggs is in this part: how long you cook them for. The longer they poach, the less runny the yolk will be. But getting it right, understanding the way the yolk looks in its little white overcoat is something you can only learn through experience. By experimenting again and again.

Scoop your eggs out with a slotted spoon and (evil of all evils, I know) use paper towel to blot excess water off them. I’ve tried just letting them drain but it doesn’t work as well, unfortunately.

Arrange them to suit your tastes and serve!

::

Photo – a present to yourself. Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.
~ December 25 prompt

Can’t say I’m much for photos of myself. Never have been, actually. While I’m not sure if I’d be classified as having body dysmorphic disorder, the description sure sounds a lot like me.

The truth is that I’ve never been able to see myself clearly in the mirror or in photos. All I notice are my faults and it’s a rare day that I actually like a photo that I’m in (I am getting better with that however). So I’ve tended to avoid them in general.

It’s a thing that goes back to the years of my brother’s daily abuses. I’ve managed to work through most of the stuff he used to say and do, but not the stuff about how I look. The topic even came up unbidden in my last kinesiology appointment… it’s still alive and kicking.

My aversion to photos got an awful lot worse when I developed PTSD and depression – no prizes for working out why. Suffice to say there’s not a heck of a lot of photos of me from 2005-2010.

I know. It’s on my list of ‘stuff’ to deal with and my methods are yoga, meditation and kinesiology. Another thing I try to do is notice when I do think I look nice. I’ll eyeball myself in the mirror and say: Hey, I look really cute today! I know that might sound kind of vain, but if you’ve lived in my shoes then you’ll understand the necessity.

So this photo (a self-portrait with my iPhone) is very typical of my attitude to how I look and to having photos taken. Can I be in the shadows, please? Can we avoid looking too closely at my features? All of those things make me uncomfortable.

And that’s probably why I like yoga so much, too. Because it helps me see myself as a whole being –  inside and out – rather than just an external image to fret over…

That said, there’s this other photo I took of myself a couple of weeks ago. As a self-birthday present, I’d just been to the hairdressers for the first time in over three months and with a new cut and colour, I was feeling pretty good about the way I looked. Which is rare.

Looking at my eyes in that photo, I can see a lot has changed. I’ve accepted an awful lot more. I no longer look as sad or desperate, and there’s a softness to my expression. It’s a mark of change, and it’s also a mark of turning thirty-nine. It’s the first photo I’ve seen of myself in a long time that I’ve liked.

And I’d show it you you but the thing is as a rule I don’t put identifying photos of myself up on this blog, sorry! 😀

~Svasti