Author: Joyce

By Joyce

I love my shoes. Seventeen years ago, I ordered a pair of these custom made shoes at Michigan Women’s Music Festival, and have enjoyed both their durability and perpetually hip style all these years.  Currently, with these shoes and my black skinny jeans on, I fashion myself as one of the original albeit unrecognized Beatles. I love you ya ya ya.  Maybe it’s because I love them so much that I started fearing their inevitable break down, and so three Sundays ago, I went in search of new ones at the DSW (Designer Shoe Warehouse) store in Tukwila with best friend Anna who was on her own shoe hunt.

After entering the store, I initially felt confident I would find something with aisle after aisle of shoes and boots awaiting me. But, I wasn’t in the store more than ten minutes before I starting seeing all the single shoes on display more like cheap chess pieces than footwear.  I had the sick-in-my- gut feeling that if I bought a pair, I would end up being the pawn, the loser in this consumer game.  Upon inspection, and after trying on different shoes, I started feeling even more revulsion creep under my skin.  All these made in China shoes, even the brands I preferred like Keen or Merrells, were cheaply fabricated at a not-so-discounted price.  It was probably the sheer volume of shoeboxes that reminded me that every square inch of the store was designed to capture my money. Regardless, we both left DSW without spending a dime and feeling strangely vacant, at a loss for how to fulfill the longings which brought us there in the first place.

Which is why I redirected my attention and gave my old favorites some love this weekend.  I brought them to a shoe repair store for new heel plates (only $4.00), bought some soft insoles (only $3.95) for added comfort and then gave them a shine at home.  Taking good care of these well-crafted (and repairable) shoes reconnected me to their integrity and value.  With good maintenance, they could probably serve me for another ten years at least.

When I was in acupuncture school, I learned about the significance of taking care of one shoes during a session with a middle-aged man who came into the student clinic. He was an unusual patient because unlike most other patients who dressed casually, he came dressed in a nicely pressed suit and tie. I remember when the other intern and I sat with our supervisor discussing our observations and diagnosis, and she asked, “Did you notice his shoes?”  In fact, I did.  His shoes were old, worn and scuffed, and not at all in keeping with the rest of his expensive outfit. She reminded us that the state of his shoes suggested a kidney deficiency pattern because he was not taking care of his root, his feet. Other symptoms like fatigue, back and knee pain also supported this diagnosis.

I am reminded time after time that doing basic maintenance, whether
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By Joyce

Getting on an airplane to visit my mother tomorrow night prompted me to begin preparing my body for the trip by making a pot of microbe killing garlic soup. I’ve had one too many upper respiratory infections after airplane flights so going on the defensive seemed like a reasonable preventative measure. Just thinking about all the bacteria and viruses waiting for me on my seat or tray or in the collective bathroom is enough to make me sick before even boarding.

I figured I couldn’t lose with this recipe.  After all, 52 cloves of garlic, ½ cup of ginger, onions, lemon, cayenne and thyme are classic phlegm busters, and are capable of driving most pathogens out of the body. Was it overkill?  Maybe. When I made the soup, I wasn’t really thinking in terms of taste, I was thinking in terms of potency.  And I can assure you; this hot, pungent soup will send out a major warning to any microbe whose vector pathway might cross mine. Unfortunately, Craig, usually an adventurous gourmand, could only stomach four bites.  I ate my whole bowl with the curiosity and stamina of a seasoned traveler in a foreign country.  I can honestly say it was good…..very, very good for me.

Anyways, It’s my version of a flu shot, just way spicier, and likely more effective. If you have a cold, this soup might be just the thing to rid your body of the crud.

I followed this recipe:

In my batch, I also grated in some tumeric root for extra protection.

Modified Garlic Soup Recipe

Serves 4

26 garlic cloves (unpeeled)

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) organic butter

1/2 teaspoon cayenne powder

1/2 cup fresh ginger

2 1/4 cups sliced onions

1 1/2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme

26 garlic cloves, peeled

1/2 cup coconut milk

3 1/2 cups organic vegetable broth

4 lemon wedges

Preheat oven to 350F. Place 26 garlic cloves in small glass baking dish. Add 2 tablespoons olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt and toss to coat. Cover baking dish tightly with foil and bake until garlic is golden brown and tender, about 45 minutes. Cool. Squeeze garlic between fingertips to release cloves. Transfer cloves to small bowl.

Melt butter in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onions, thyme, ginger and cayenne powder and cook until onions are translucent, about 6 minutes. Add roasted garlic and 26 raw garlic cloves and cook 3 minutes. Add vegetable broth; cover and simmer until garlic is very tender, about 20 minutes. Working in batches, puree soup in blender until smooth. Return soup to saucepan; add coconut milk and bring to simmer. Season with sea salt and pepper for flavor.

Squeeze juice of 1 lemon wedge into each bowl and serve.

Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate. Rewarm over medium heat, stirring occasionally.

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By Joyce

Besides the Zen meditation retreat I attended last weekend, I also had two mindfulness experiences last week that reinforced the value of my training.

In Janurary, I took a 6 session online webinar for facilitator training from the Prison Mindfulness Institute called, Path of Freedom, a mindfulness and emotional intelligence training for incarcerated youth and adults. As part of the curriculum, we, the facilitators-in-training, were taught about the concept of holding your seat, taken from the horse training sport of dressage.  Basically, the idea is to not let your mind or emotions drag you around like an out-of-control horse; instead, keep your center (hold your seat) as you ride through all your mental and emotional fluctuations.  For homework, we were asked to write about situations where we had to hold our seat within ourselves or with others.

Well, that week, I didn’t particularly have any triggers so I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to write about, but after going on a series of errands, I found I had plenty of material.  My first stop was to my local natural food store (PCC).  Even though I am ordinarily triggered by their high prices, on that day, I put items in my basket with relative equanimity.  It wasn’t until I was waiting in line to check out that I was challenged to hold my seat.  You see, the woman in front of me had some indecipherable issue with her debit card.  It was the kind of issue where back and forth communication between her and the cashier seemed to go on and on.  All customers have an intuitive sense of the amount of time that simple questions like, “Do you want cash back?” or “Did you bring your own bag?” should take, and this interaction was definitely taking too long by my clock. At the same moment my internal sensor was alerting me that I was in the wrong check out line, I decided to try the hold your seat exercise. Instead of focusing on the cashier, I focused on my breath and stilling my mind.  It’s not that I didn’t notice her inefficient use of time, or her poor spatial organization when she bagged her customer’s groceries; it was that I was relaxed and easy with it.  Just as I was settling into taking whatever time it was going to take, I noticed at the edge of my periphery vision, a cashier at the next register opening her drawer. I made a beeline to that register, beating out other customers to be the first in line.  Holding my seat didn’t mean I needed to stay frozen in an unwanted situation. Instead, by centering myself, I was able to relax and keep my awareness open and alert so I could fluidly move out of stasis.

My next stop was to get gas at the Safeway gas station on Rainier Avenue S. When I opened the door to the cashier’s kiosk, I had an instant flash of irritation, an inner harrumph, as
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