Little 900

My lovely colleagues recently enlightened me to a new trend: Vegan before 6. Interestingly, this is something I’d been thinking about this week on my own!

I’m the cook in the house and frankly, I enjoy the meats.  But also, Sweetheart does some serious gym workouts in the late afternoons and comes home craving animal protein for his bulging, manly muscles. As I’ve ramped up my own workouts, I’ve found having chicken, fish or beef for dinner the night before a big SPIN class gives me a lot more energy and endurance the next morning.

There are almost always leftovers, and I found myself eating them the next day for lunch on top of a salad and then sometimes again for another dinner with Sweetheart. But then, that can mean I’m eating red meat, for example, twice a day for several days. Not ok — for my health or for the environment.

“Flexitarianism” is conscientious without being doctrinaire, and it allows for discipline as well as gentle flexibility and forgiveness.

Enter Mark Bittman, author of the Minimalist cookbooks and regular contributor for the New York Times. He’s been making the rounds promoting his new book, “Vegan Before 6″, which promotes the idea of “flexitarianism”. I like it!  It’s conscientious without being doctrinaire.  And it allows for discipline as well as gentle flexibility and forgiveness.

I’m easing into it by going lacto-vegetarian before 6, as opposed to vegan.  Especially since I’m in the middle of moving into my new home in Providence, RI (!!!) and don’t yet have any of my pots and pans, I wanna take it easy on myself by allowing cheese, cottage cheese, etc.

The wonderful hipster vegetarian cooking blog, Hot Knives, is making the idea of eating vegetarian and vegan a lot easier.  With recipes like fake Easter lamb (Maitake mushrooms!), searing hot cast iron skillet tricks and O.M.F.G. how to make your own nut milks, I’ve found what I’ve been looking for.

Looking forward to buying their new cookbook, Lust for Leaf, when the financial wounds of moving back to the East Coast heal a bit.  Definitely check it out and let me know what you think!

*-* metta *-*

Despite my impending return to the East Coast and my soon proximity to New York City, I won’t be shopping at Japanese housewares store MUJI. Though I love their un-labeled, utilitarian goods with clean designs, it turns out the global chain sells dried shark’s fin soup mixes in some of its Asian stores.

No good. See Eri Tanaka’s petition on Change.org to learn more about how the practice of killing sharks for their fins is degrading the environment on a massive scale.

*-* metta *-*

Funny thing: In 2 days time, shortly following my last post on "Living Smaller", I got 3 different emails from clothing line Nau, stuff sharing website Yerdle and goop about downsizing one's closet.

I think at least some of the synchronicity has to do with this NYT op-ed by a startup guy who found that adage "more money more problems" to be true and downsized accordingly. It garnered a whopping 332 comments, many from people undergoing similar downsizing.

Still, I enjoyed thinking about the ways these three difference company's approached the issue of downsizing belongings. And since I do email engagement for a living, I was fascinated by the stories they were telling each of their emails.

So, email analysis: begin!

NAU
Nau is a clothing line I've bought a few key items from (rain jacket, winter jacket, 3 shirts, long underwear). Their clothes are well designed, comfortable, durable and practical. They're also really expensive, as they're made with very techy fabric and exquisite attention to design. Their approach to the less is more email can be summed up thusly:
- subject line: "Less stuff, more stories"
- lede: defines "minimalism" as possessing "only what's truly essential to give you happiness, freedom and fulfillment in life."
- content and purpose is transactional: they're trying to sell me stuff! Just, you know, highly technical and well designed stuff selectively curated and acquired to give me more freedom -- no images of bulging closets here.
- not only are they selling me stuff, by profiling artists and activists they work with, they're selling me a lifestyle.

GOOP
I consider being on goop's email list an indulgence -- I cannot afford the restaurants, items or personal training regimes described therein. But the halo of celebrity (specifically, Gwyneth Paltrow's) makes this irresistible like a decadent vanilla dessert:
- subject line: "Spring cleaning: aka editing your mess of a closet"
- lede: cleaning one's closets is a ritual part of spring cleaning, but intimidating, so let's bring in some experts from couture consignment websites to give us some tips
- content and purpose is also, but very slyly, transactional: Ample real estate is given to two couture consignment websites (so we can sell our stuff and then buy more)
- what the content really sells, though, is a lifestyle -- Gwyneth Paltrow as a consummable good we can all own a piece of by not only selling this story of her charitable act but also the very clothes off her back

YERDLE
Yerdle is a collaborative consumption, or stuff sharing, website. Some of my colleagues in Washington, DC regularly attend stuff swaps where they bring clothes they don't wear anymore or homemade edible goods and swap them for others' items like a silent auction. Birthed from the collaborative consumption movement started by this book, Yerdle gives people chances to both give away and get stuff using the interwebs and at no cost.
- subject line: "Live smaller"
- lede: "It's easy to Live Smaller using yerdle. Not only can you get rid of the stuff you don't use, you can easily get stuff you do not have. Simple as that!"
- content is focused on engagement and driving people to the site for the promise of an experience of sharing and receiving. Not exactly transactional.

None of this particularly means anything. I just think it's interesting.
And I'm pleased that more people in the world are at least thinking about living smaller -- even if, in these instances and in my own experience, acquisition still is a big part of it.

I'm pleased that more people in the world are at least thinking about living smaller -- even if, in these instances and in my own experience, acquisition still is a big part of it.

But who are we kidding? As living organisms, we consume all the time. It's impossible not to -- whether it's oxygen, food, heat or durable goods. There's really no use in employing guilt or shame to pursue a smaller footprint, so incentives are good.  Even celebrity incentives.

We still have a ways to go here, or I do anyway. Looking forward to keeping up a mono/dialogue, though, on what it means to live smaller as individuals and as a society.

*-* metta *-*

Finally getting around to uploading a short video I shot on my phone from when a “murmuration” of starlings decided to visit my neighborhood. I shot this back in November, when I heard a racket outside and decided to pop out with my camera phone in hand. Apologies for the shaky shooting — it was freezing!

This is nothing, of course, compared to Sophie Windsor Clive and Liberty Smith’s just astounding and adorable murmuration video. More wonderful short films on their website here.

*-* metta *-*

I always fancy that I’m going to find the few items I have yet to acquire that will enable me to live smaller. The intention is wholesome — inspired by people like Andrew Hyde (the guy who only owns 15 things), Colin Beaven (aka No Impact Man), and well, the Buddha, I want to have a lighter footprint on the earth and feel less bound by the things I own and keep around me.

At times, I’ve put things into storage and felt the freedom of traveling for months with only what fit in a backpack. It was liberating. But when I’ve settled and made a home, I’ve also wanted to nest.

As I’ve grown older and acquired more expendable income, I want the things I buy to feel more like investments than purchases — if they’re durable goods, I especially feel this way, and the ability for one item to serve multiple purposes (and thus displace a number of older items) feels like a tremendous value add probably greater than the sum of the utility of the items being moved out of the way. Andrew Hyde, for instance, owns several very expensive and technical things like a Mammut backpack, Nau shirts, Patagucci jeans and an iPad.

I can’t say my own attempts to downsize through investing in higher value goods has played out quite the way I’d like. As quickly as I get rid of old things, I feel like I accumulate new and more expensive things.

In the same vein, I recently applied for and was approved for a new credit card — the Capital One Travel Rewards Card, which allows me to put roughly 2-3% of my expenses towards “erasing” a travel related expense at any time. Right now, I have 20,786 “miles” I can use to take $207.86 off of my balance. (Sidenote: I like Capital One’s customer service, their offerings, and the fact that they’re not a Big Bank, which is why I’m providing the link.)

I got to choose the design on the card and chose, with some hesitation, a photograph of a Buddha that’s not only beautiful, but that I hoped would remind me to think about whether the purchase I was making would help me pursue what’s important to me: selflessness, wisdom, generosity and kindness (all of which overlap with leaving a smaller footprint).

It’s not a perfect system, but it has been helpful at times. I have found it particularly unhelpful around eating out and drinking at bars, but I have found it helpful in keeping my clothing purchases relatively to a minimum — especially since the clothing I’m interested in these days is made of Military Specification or Swiss engineered textiles to keep you dry, cool, warm and looking stylish whether you’re climbing a mountain or out at a nice dinner and are predictably really expensive:

Ivajean | Women’s biking clothes made of organic chambray and Schoeller Dryskin in Seattle

Outlier | Men’s and Women’s clothes made in hipster Williamsburg for CIA grayman operations and outdoorsy jetsetters

Swrve | Men’s biking clothes and some lovely accessories (scarves!) with a distinctly Los Angeles feel

Pedaled | A Japanese line of menswear made for biking

The closest I get to a bike ride these days is in SPIN class, another thing I’m loving these days and that costs me money to do in each instance (unlike say, running).

But it seems I’m not the only one thinking about living smaller these days. With the release of several books in the past few years and the launch of online hubs for collaborative consumption, the “sharing economy” is on the rise. Even H&M now offers clothing recycling — one bag of donated clothes nets a 15% discount on a subsequent purchase — in a way that is truly incentivized for shoppers. This isn’t quite collaborative consumption, but it puts a value on sharing or giving away the things we don’t need or use anymore. Paying it forward, in a way.

This has been a bit of a ramble, as have many of my thoughts been these days. In sum, I suppose what I’m really loving is the rising value being placed on living smaller, though the practice itself may be more about provoking thought than real material reductions for me. That, in itself, is worth something.

*-* metta *-*

OK, I haven’t written in a long time so I going to start with something easy and fun to ease back into it.

Two weeks ago, I saw this post on Mind Body Green about washing one’s face with oil. I tried this last year using Grapeseed Oil and though it definitely reduced the visibility of what precursors to fine lines I do have (being northeast Asian is fun in this regard), it also caused me to break out as I have combination/slightly problematic skin.

But the Mind Body Green article was about washing one’s face with Castor Oil, which has always sounded intriguing because I’ve heard it referred to in like old American television shows and period films but had never come across it in real life.

So here I went: I bought a bottle of Castor Oil at the local natural foods store, combined it in equal proportions with grapeseed oil and gave it a whirl.

Using a glass jar with a dropper I had previously acquired, I put a quarter sized squirt into my hands and massaged it into my face, paying extra attention to my problem areas — my nose, under my nostrils, my temples, my chin and between my eyes/forehead.

Then, per the directions, I took a hot, wet washcloth, wrung it out and then placed it on my face. I learned the first time that one should drape a corner across the brow, then wrap it around the chin — lest she get a taste of what it’s like to be waterboarded.

I learned the first time that one should drape a corner across the brow, then wrap it around the chin — lest she get a taste of what it’s like to be waterboarded.

Once the rag, I mean washcloth, cooled, I used it to scrub away the oil with short, vigorous strokes. Then, I rinsed and rung out the cloth, hung it up to dry, and applied a few drops of grapeseed oil as moisturizer.

Voila! I washed my face with oil.

The result? Actually, my skin is better than ever! I’ve actually begun to forgo applying foundation when I put on makeup — I only need some concealer on a few acne scars healing up from before I started using the Castor Oil.

When I’m washing my face in the shower, I don’t bother with the wrap as I figure the steam is doing the same thing. So there’s an awkward 30 seconds in the mornings or evenings when I’m not showering during which I’m standing with my neck craned back with a wet rag on my face. But other than that, this new makeup trick is the bee’s knees.

These days, my face glows a little and doesn’t get abnormally oily throughout the day. My lips have even gotten a bit drier, so I may reduce the amount of Castor Oil I’m using in proportion to Grapeseed Oil. Also, note to readers: keep the Castor Oil solution off your lips but don’t be afraid of using it to remove eye makeup, in my experience.

Oh, also: the original article called for a 2:8 Castor Oil to EVOO solution, which may work better for people with normal to dry skin.

Give it a try! At $4.99 for a 5oz bottle of Grapeseed Oil and $7.99 for a 16oz bottle of Castor Oil (I’ve gone through maybe 1oz a week so far?), it’s far more economical than store bought beauty products.

*-* metta *-*

I am debating how much to put out here about the fact that, while we were taking a long weekend in Chicago recently, Sweetheart proposed!

As in, to be married — not like, where to eat or when we should start planning to move (to Providence, RI) or something.

The funny thing about engagements is that everyone wants to know the story — where’s the ring? Was it romantic? Were you surprised? Are you so happy? That’s very nice and it’s fun when you’re a close friend to get all the details.

But I am of the mind that strangers and acquaintances care little about what it’s like to be inside the mind of an engaged woman — the planning, the small and large decisions, the weight of an entire jewelry industry’s marketing on one’s shoulders. That last bit is particularly significant for me at this very moment as I’m trying to decide whether or not I want an engagement ring, and am leaning towards no. (See? Not. Interesting.)

So I think I will leave much of the planning, decision making and other navel gazing reflections on marriage and engagement off the blog. This blog is about being a tool for me to focus on my practice, anyway.

Oh yeah, that.

*-* metta *-*

I have been known to not be a fan of the music industry construction known as Lana Del Rey.  But I have really been taken by this particular song, “Born to Die” (who isn’t, right? heyoo! #BuddhistPuns).

Aside from the hidden meaning this Buddhist listener finds in the title, its content is also pretty poignant and resonates. I am reticent to give Del Rey more credit than she may deserve for this song, but it does remind me of one my favorite poems by Hafiz, “My Sweet, Crushed Angel”.

Anyway, take a listen:

I’ve had a really hard time writing these days. Although I recently came off a wonderful 10-day silent meditation retreat, in which I deepened my knowledge of much I have started to see through my meditation practice and self reflection, I feel far away from the wide open freedom and security I left the retreat with.

It’s only been two weeks! But yet it feels so far away.

Coming off the retreat, we had a 17 hour drive back home in Indiana — and Sweetheart and I talked the whole way, about one thing or another we saw or realized on retreat and wanted to share. We talked and talked until our throats hurt and our heads ached, since we hadn’t been talking for 10 days and had gotten unaccustomed to the energy it requires to talk and listen for long periods of time.

The thing I most urgently wanted to tell Sweetheart was about my realization of having a hungry ghost within me — specifically a hungry ghost child.

The thing I most urgently wanted to tell Sweetheart was about my realization of having a hungry ghost within me — specifically a hungry ghost child.

I’m not an expert in Buddhist hermeneutics (though I dabble), so I can’t explain exactly what the hungry ghost refers to or where it came from. But it seems to be a vehicle by which some of the 10 defilements listed in Buddhist texts are illustrated — specifically greed, delusion, conceit, and wrong views. (h/t Wikipedia.)

Hungry ghosts are usually depicted and described as emaciated figures with tiny, pinhole mouths and huge stomachs. Though their stomachs are big and empty, creating instatiable hunger, they have tiny, narrow throats in addition to their teeny mouths that don’t allow them to swallow much of anything at a time. They are constantly tortured and grasping after that which would satiate them, but is ever inaccessible.

The hungry ghost inside me is convinced that she is starving for love, affection, recognition and praise. I can see her when others are being praised and I’m not, and when I feel rejected or ignored by someone I care about.

For the first time, I saw on this retreat where in my body this hungry ghost child lives. She lives in the flat, skate wing-like muscles directly between my shoulders, which fuse together when she’s in pain. In the constriction directly under my collarbones and in the bony plate of my sternum. And in the tense constriction of the back of my neck and the base of my skull. And lastly in the top of my stomach that pulls into the diaphragm, restricting my breathing.

For the first time, I saw on this retreat where in my body this hungry ghost child lives. She lives in the flat, skate wing-like muscles directly between my shoulders, which fuse together when she’s in pain.

At even the slightest injury, she brings up this armor — and spines to boot — to protect herself from getting hurt even more. The armor is hastily constructed but comprehensive, and blocks everything out — assaults and insults, but also attempts to reconcile and love. It works both ways, also keeping compassion and intimacy hamstrung and trapped inside.

The armor and spines manifest in the mind, too — as the story that I live in a place of scarcity, that I have always and will always operate at a deficit of love. That story, that wrong view, says that what I have now will only harm me, that it isn’t good enough. Instead of sticking with Sweetheart, this job, this wardrobe, it’s imperative that I pursue something newer and better.

I know, though, from life’s experiences that thinking I have a deficit of love, I am ever controlled by that hungry ghost child, greedily grabbing for the love I think I’m missing, finding it in all the wrong places and unable to give it away without conditions. It harms me as well as protects me.

Shoken Michael Stone once described a scene of several hungry ghosts sitting at a banquet. In their hands were absurdly long chopsticks — so long, in fact, that it was impossible for them to get the tips of those chopsticks to their tiny mouths.

The irony of those long chopsticks, of course, is that the hungry ghosts could use them not to feed themselves, but to feed each other across the banquet table. But with wrong view dominating the mind, they’ll never realize finding nourishment from each other is even possible.

Now that I’ve seen the hungry ghost child and given her a name — actually, I haven’t given her a name beyond “hungry ghost child”. Maybe I should? — I see her all the time. But though I see her, I can’t escape her.

Wow. I writing that, it dawned on me that I will never be able to escape her — and that realization is filling me with a certain aching sympathy for her pitiable naivete and how she can’t let go of her history of hurts. I see that there’s no place for resentment with her, only acceptance and care.

I remember now that I knew this on retreat as I first saw her. Now, back in my everyday life I had forgotten. Perhaps my practice here is to find a way to give her a place of warmth and care beside me, maybe even on my lap, out here in the complicated life of a 30-year-old householder.

It reminds me of a phrase that Sweetheart has been mulling over since the retreat and that he found to mean a great deal to him: I make my mind my friend.

I make this child my friend.

(h/t to Emperor’s New Clothes blog for the Ghostbusters photo)

*-* metta *-*

I learned while on retreat, from one of the retreat’s teachers Greg Scharf, that American President Barack Obama had said a remarkable thing while visiting Burma in November, as the first sitting US President to go there.

While speaking at Rangoon University, President Obama talked about having visited Shwedagon Pagoda — a beautiful monument to the ebbs, tides and tsunamis of Burma’s history that I have my own rich memories of — and remarked, “I have seen just earlier today the golden stupa of Shwedagon, and have been moved by the timeless idea of metta — the belief that our time on this Earth can be defined by tolerance and by love.” (Watch the video and read the full transcript here.)

“I have seen just earlier today the golden stupa of Shwedagon, and have been moved by the timeless idea of metta — the belief that our time on this Earth can be defined by tolerance and by love.”

- President Barack Obama

Metta! Like Greg, I never thought I’d live to see the day when a US President spoke about — much less even knew — the Buddhist idea of metta, loving kindness. Add this to the list of reasons why I still love this guy. For real.

On this day, when President Obama is being inaugurated for a second term in Washington DC, I wanted to find a #MusicMonday track that would speak to the occasion, and to the fact that today is also a national holiday — Dr. Martin Luther King Jr Day.

I was pleased to find this song by Nina Simone, “I wish I knew how it would feel to be free”, which has a deep and lasting meaning that speaks to freedom in its widest sense — something I think both King and President Obama contemplate. I also love the optimistic up tempo feel! Pretty perfect for this day.

*-* metta *-*