Meaningful Mud's Monthly Mu - December 2024
"Older brother, restless soul, lie down...lie for a while with your ear against the earth."
Hey there,
And welcome to Meaningful Mud’s Monthly Mu December edition.
I have struggled this past month to reel in all my fragmentary feelings, thoughts and meanderings and neatly package them in a coherent offering worthy of your reading.
“When your heart is just slightly out of sync with your hand,” as my brother Jonah soothingly comforted me when telling him of my muddled mess.
After numerous failed attempts at writing, rephrasing, editing and deleting, the sole splintering of comprehensibility I was able to muster forth, which is the little pondering I humbly lay before you, was spurred on/by (open debate) my very unsuccessful wrestling match with an avocado, causing a defeating drop of my kitchen utensils and a determined three step journey to my desk in search of a more favorable outcome in this arena.
So yes. It is not all doom and gloom.
Despite my inner and outer disjointedness, it is avocado season in my part of the world and a certain cause for celebration. Or more precisely, it is the time of year when you can buy a handful of avocados and not have to worry about exceeding your credit limit.
Small victories indeed.
Prior to slicing open the avocado in question, I diligently went through my avocado selection routine, step-by-methodical-step (I hope I am not alone on this one). Fully aware that what follows may vary by province and district, the process generally comprises two stages:
Stage 1: Tenderly press and roll each individual avocado (#balling) using the palms and fingertips, all the while attentively gauging the ratio of soft and malleable to hard and rigid. Whilst this step alone is more often than not sufficient in identifying the avocado that is ripe, ready and enticingly calling your name, the sages do explain that this stage is also notorious for inducing more confusion and doubt than initially anticipated. Hence Stage 2.
Stage 2: If family and friends are not to be found in the immediate vicinity, repeat Stage 1 but this time with an avocado in each hand. If a comparative assessment does not guide you to clarity, I leave you to conjure up an imaginative version of Stage 3 (please do share!).
On this particular day, already during the infant steps of Stage 1, I intuitively knew that none of the avocados before me were ripe. Yet, the thought of a few slices added to my roasted cauliflower, sprinkled pomegranate seeds and drizzled tachina (if you call it tahini you are wrong - this is not a province thing), swindled my senses, the result being my standing in the kitchen, forlorn and regretful, in the company of an unripe skewly opened avocado.
They way we learn our lessons.
There are numerous names and ideas ad infinitum attempting to capture that amorphous, probing part of us that whispers, shouts and talks with our other parts; that nebulous piece in and of us that weighs not an ounce yet carries our entire beings; the shapeless storage unit of our visceral and emotional worlds - our own personal signal fires guiding us towards the persons we ought to be, sometimes are and often are not; that which we desperately want to be and run away from, all at the same time.
The loud, hurried unrelenting facets of the societal tapestry of which we all constitute a chunk, either by default or intentionally, are masterful in dialing down the frequencies to our individual inner stations. In the process, “this darkness flooded in light” to paraphrase The Avett Brothers, transmutes the message intended to be relayed and sometimes, occasionally, frequently, and perhaps more than we would like or deem fair in the cosmic courthouse, the consequences are far more catastrophic and character defining than an unripe open fruit.
So friends, as this year draws to a welcoming or undesirable close, or maybe something in between, my wish to us all is to gently lean in, linger that much longer and listen up to all that’s going on on the inside. And please don’t underestimate your avocado ripeness detection senses.
Take care and thank you again for your being here.
And lastly, may we always be stuck in Meaningful Mud!
Tyler
*Also - Aharon, good to have you back brother!#uriah*
“In order to understand the dance one must be still. And in order to truly understand stillness one must dance.”
— Rumi
Every Thing on It
By Shel Silverstein
She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke
The menu ain’t the meal but give it a bash anyway
Sharing with you all a Glühwein recipe to keep you and your loved ones warm and cozy during the winter winds.
What you’ll need:
2 medium oranges
3/4 cup water
1/4 cup granulated sugar
10 to 20 whole cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
2 whole star anise
1 bottle of dry red wine (Yes Tammy - you can use a bottle of Tassies!)
Instructions:
Combine water, sugar, and the cinnamon sticks in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to a low simmer.
Cut one orange in half and squeeze the orange halves over the sugared mixture.
Insert the cloves into the outside of each orange peel and place peels into the simmering mixture. Continue to simmer over the lowest heat until thick and syrupy, usually for about 20 to 30 minutes.
When the mixture has finished simmering, stir in your wine and increase the heat for around 5 minutes. At this stage feel free to remove the orange peels and cinnamon sticks.
Ladle into mugs and garnish with the orange slices of your remaining orange and your star anise (Recommended to add in a shot of rum or amaretto).
Thank your divine. Sip, enjoy and thank your divine again.
“I want my kids to swim in the creek
Oh, I want my kids to swim in the creek.”
Caamp, Fall Fall Fall
Sonic Suggestions
A shout-out to Maayan for sending this pretty song my way.
I hope you all enjoy!
Thank you all once again for stopping by. It is really not taken for granted!
Please also consider forwarding this little offering to a loved one, friend or stranger and feel free to reach out should you wish to share any comments, critiques or suggestions. I would love to hear from you all.
Wishing you all a delicious December!
