CAMEL RIDE-GIZA

I traveled to honor the harmonic convergence in Giza, Egypt. We arrived early and would end our trip around 1-11-1987. Before we moved into the heart of collective “caravan” travels, we were introduced to Giza. This is where we began and ended our journey.

Colorfully clad Bedouin camel handlers gently led the giants of the desert, equally adorned, near the circle where we stood. All our eyes were watchful of the camels, while occasional wandering eyes ogled the Great Pyramid. I was spellbound...in rapture. I was about to sit upon one of God’s mightiest and most mysterious creatures.

The camel dutifully knelt with knees on the ground as I was hoisted up onto its back. No time for ceremony, camel kisses or sweet breaths; only the ride was in view. I felt a lump in my stomach as we rose up into the heavens. Clearly, the camel had done this before.

With that one movement of the camel rising, there was a merging of me into camel and the wide sweep of desert. Camel, Bedouin camel handler, Great Pyramid, sand, desert ways, hills, rising...and I swooped and swirled into singing sands, wind, dust, and the massive presence of antiquity. I remained astounded. Once up and settled, the view was eternal.

It was only a moment, but the moment captured something deep, known and unknown, in my bones. It was my Taos desert trip and my travels with four friends across Texas, Arizona, New Mexico and California. It was Vipassana meditation in the desert, Joshua Tree hiking in California. It was photography, salad, and numerous trips into Death Valley. It was an ancient song, “The Shifting Whispering Sands”, of my childhood that called me first to the mysterious sands of the deserts. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgAvHo6vpe4

One would think the sand was resting, but you'll find this is not so. 
It is whisp'ringsoftly whisp'ring, as it slowly moves along…
Yes, it always whispers to you about  the days of long ago.  

                                            V.C. Gilbert and Mary M. Hadler 

There was something of my father’s longing in that song. Some yearning never satisfied. If there was a link between us it would be found in that song. While Roy Rogers captured my heart about western deserts and its ways, this song that my father played revealed his vulnerable side, whether he realized it or not.

One late rainy afternoon, I made my bedroom into a tented affair, while I explored inner riches. Home from work, my father stormed into my bedroom, red faced and demanding.  When his hand yanked open the tent flap, there was only the radio quietly playing, “The Shifting Whispering Sands.” Twice blessed, I did not laugh when he realized his error. Desert storms are like that. They rise up in fury, and lie down in whispering lamentations, moving quietly across vast terrains.

The camel ride up the hilly plain was quiet and lulling. Tips were included in our touring fees and granted to the Bedouin Company. But the Bedouins did not quite see it that way.  When no favorable response came, the dust storm of camel hooves pounded into the desert floor as they raced for the highest hills. Sitting atop this escapade was riveting. Only after more sweeping gestures by our guides, and our hands pulling out empty pockets, did they turn the camels around.

What did I learn in the heart of the deep Egyptian desert? I learned that a camel was a new friend. I learned that the ways of the desert and its customs are unique and compelling. I learned that while we had yet to rendezvous with the pyramids, everything I came for, I had already found in that ride.

What about you, dear reader? When did you go on a journey born out of the wishes and connections that came before?

CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: Working My Way Back To You, BABE

Animals are my friends... and I don't eat my friends.

                                                                              ~George Bernard Shaw

The Long And Winding Road

Today I made my vegan version of a Philly Cheese Sandwich recipe. The truth is that I did not embrace this recipe in the blink of an eye. MOVE OVER PHILLY, THERE’S A NEW SANDWICH IN TOWN

In leadership and organizational development, we make declarations for what we want, integrating values and vision to support those stands.  A shift in paradigms leads to a peaceful, dynamic, non-conflicting life. We’re works in progress. When I’ve taken a stand, as when my clients do, it creates a new field of relatedness such that the entire universe and world conspires to support that new stand. New life is created from it, with all the resources needed to live it.

Through meditation, fissures or mind splits can be healed.  As I let myself breathe in and out, I watch thoughts and conflicts rise and fall. When I meditate on a meditation passage I let elevated words drop down into my consciousness like a balm, erasing negative conditioning.

I did not have those tools earlier in life. Inside of me, clashing values raged. Eating was deeply disquieting. (Please see my other blogs on the subject: CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: The Day I Heard A Fis... and CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: Seeking Freedom Living in a vegetarian collective helped me. But when I moved from that home, I still sporadically ate fish and fowl.

I was estranged from food. Often, I felt sick. I was consuming my own conflict. And conflict isn’t digestible. And after haggling with doctors pressuring me to eat more animal life, I finally found hope.

I became a Vipassana meditator. I met other vegetarians. Then one of my sisters asked me to find a holistic veterinarian for her dog, Lancelot, who had cancer. The veterinarian put Lancelot on a pure rice and vegetarian diet. While it did not cure him, it did give almost another year of life. My sister decided if Lancelot was to have that daily diet, she would too. While I was wrestling with vegetarianism, she became one. Overnight. Later when she gave birth, she passed that lifestyle on to her children.

I made a decision. My sister had health issues. If she did not get worse, I would be a full vegetarian. My sister got healthier; I became a card-carrying vegetarian. Magically, I got stronger and suddenly was in love with eating. I lost weight and loved cooking.

I come from a richly integrated family of blood and adopted family. My nieces, who were vegetarians as children, were star athletes; my brother, a senior, walks to work at 5 a.m.; my sister and I remain full vegetarians. I have another niece who is a full vegetarian and my other sister is a partial vegetarian. I have a whole social community of 100% vegetarians, forty or more sitting together on feast days. I have amazing friends and family, some vegetarian and some not, which share vegetarian meals with me. I am blessed.

Dear reader, what’s your journey into conscious eating? And what’s yours, vegetarians? As conflicts go, be sure to cash in on a happy ending.

MOVE OVER PHILLY, THERE’S A NEW SANDWICH IN TOWN

My next blog might be “Confessions of a Vegan”, ‘cause I am 97% there.

                                                                                               Karla Boyd

               A vegetarian is a person who won't eat anything that can have children.                    

                                                                                                David Brenner

Yesterday and today, I ate in peace. Today I created my version of a Philly Cheese Sandwich recipe. For me what was missing in the old recipe was LOVE.

The film industry has a clause that states, “no animals were harmed in the making of this film.” I, too, say that no animals were harmed in the making of this sandwich! I might be more precise, by the way, in declaring that statement. While The American Humane Society is laudable in their work to protect animals in Hollywood, Pat Derby, The Lady and her Tiger (http://www.pawsweb.org/) lived to tell a different tale.

But now I’m off track. I need to return to what let me eat in peace. (Please see my other blog on this subject: CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: Working My Way Back T... It was a worthy detour, but back to the “show.” Here is my mouthwatering vegan, Move Over Philly, There’s A New Sandwich In Town recipe:

Ingredients:

One Slice Daiya cheddar cheese-(http://us.daiyafoods.com/our-products)

One half white or yellow onion-caramelized or grilled

Garlic chopped and sautéed

Fresh Ginger sautéed

Grilled veggies, either roasted red pepper or zucchini does nicely

Gluten Free, Vegan Bun or Bread your choice

1 teaspoon Chia Seeds

Tomato Grilled, Sautéed, or Raw

Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Salt and Pepper

Love-“No animal was harmed in the…”

Cooking Instructions:

Caramelize onions, sauté garlic, ginger and veggies…

Fry one bread slice with cheese and Chia seeds on top.

Fry the other slice alone.

Add veggies onto sandwich along with tomato.

Cook a bit more…

When cheese is melted, bring out your best dinnerware.

Eat.

Heaven…..

Of course like a good healthy Philly sandwich, it will drip all over you…

CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: Seeking Freedom

Vividly, I recall standing in the windowed kitchen where we sat our groceries and drank tea. We took our meals, often in the living room, with community vegetarian potlucks swapping liberation tales, playing music and connecting.

I was not in the kitchen for tea this day, however. I was about to do an insensible act. As I stood before the stove, I reflected on the last few days. Meeting one of the five housemates, grandmother Meridel Le Sueur, was memorable. She was a poet, kind and born into a family of political and social activists. I knew three of her grandchildren. http://www.meridellesueur.org/ Meridel encouraged my piano playing, writing and cheerfulness. I loved her poetry, her interest in youth, and her generous ability to connect.

I remembered the day Jane Fonda sauntered through our kitchen en route to my roommate’s office to discuss new developments. I remembered how interested, curious and helpful my housemates were. I wondered if I’d discover why I was living in San Francisco (what I came to learn). I wondered if I remembered to put away the co-op food picked up late today.

I’m getting ahead of myself.  Desiring to be a writer, and new to the Bay Area, I chanced upon a meeting with Pat Parker, poet and writer. We became friends. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pat_Parker Together we found ways to share history, poetry and dreams.

Although independent, I denied my truth when seeking my “herd”. Pat wanted to sit on the dock of the bay and go crabbing.  I obliged her. My best days were when our nets were empty, but not our souls, as we talked and communed. My vegetarian conflict was relentless. How to say “no”, but not make waves? It’s amazing what we do to fit in.

Today my bucket was not empty. And Pat was about to travel. So I took my crab to share with one roommate before the others got home. My attention was on preparation, reflection and making sure I didn’t get pinched. Where were my heart, intelligence and learning? They abandoned me; or I submerged them in favor of pleasing “another”. Painful memories have a way of resurfacing; repeating our mistakes is their calling card. http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/07/confessions-of-vegetarian-day-i-heard.html

Deftly and unconsciously I lifted out the crab. As she entered the pot, I was taught a lesson. The crab did not cry out. But her angry eyes glared into mine.

Later, shocked and stunned, I realized she was pregnant. Her angry face never left me. Do animals, birds, and sea creatures feel? What a stupid question. This was my defining moment. Whatever battle I still had to wage, I committed then and there to become a vegetarian.

Sometimes we need to walk through the hot fires of our conditioning and come out the other side, transformed. We need to be patient and loving, for the journey is deep and long to growth and healing.

What is your journey, dear reader, in releasing negative conditioning and embracing conscious living?

CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: The Day I Heard A Fish Cry

Born into an American home with a pre-set diet, I had trouble eating what people call “meat.” Something did not agree with me. I preferred cooked spinach.

Sunday food with my beloved grandparents was a mixed blessing: corn on the cob, tomatoes, potato salad or mashed potatoes, green beans, watermelon, custard pies and peach cobbler. That, and being with my grandparents, was delightful. How the chicken became part of Sunday best, I don’t really want to know. I was in conflict. I wanted to eat what my grandparents had prepared. Another part of me recoiled from the fried stuff. I struggled with eating all through college.

Friends and I canoed while in college and after. One of my friends fished and one afternoon invited us to learn. Reluctantly, I agreed. What I was seeking in our time away was peaceful meanderings around the lake, “gunnelling,” (a favorite childhood activity), great campfires and conversations. The fact that we were going fishing for a weekend did not register.

At the end of the first day, my friend was happy to have caught a lot of fish. I experienced regret. I remember little except having a wiggling fish placed into my hands from the pail. I felt its pain and then its life leaving its body. I recall little else. Did I do as instructed? Did I cook, eat? I don’t know.

I did run far into the woods and burst into tears. I felt again this life hurting and dying; I cried and cried and cried.  Hours later, my friends kept calling me as dusk became dark.

Something in the woods spoke to me of connection, of our time upon earth carrying our footsteps. I walked back, dazed. I wish I could say I never ate of another being’s life again. But process isn’t like that. Nor are inner conflicts. At least, not mine.

Eventually, I was guided by wisdom. These same friends and I embarked on a six-month road trip together starting at the Rio Grande and working our way west and then north.  We ate sparingly. What we ate went underground in my consciousness. I do remember the joy of berry picking in Oregon, boiling and canning them.

Eventually two of us left the road to live in a San Francisco communal home with an old college friend. There were fresh community veggie food co-ops. Eating flesh was passé. Peaches, strawberries, fresh greens, salads, rice, beans and chocolate were the norm.

I wish I had completed my conflict there. I didn’t. But that year was an interlude into living my core values, really deepening what had I had learned in college. That education is of value when woven into and instructed by the world in which we live, its times, and its call for change. Give it tribute, connect with it, and you will be taught what you are here to learn. Ignore it and you succumb to the blind numbness of habits and values not yours...old torn hand-me-downs in need of revival. In my next blog, I continue CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN. One big fish story is enough for today.

So dear reader, when did you have a defining moment that led to transformation out of conflict?