Meaningful Mud's Monthly Mu - March 2025
"i don't know whether I'm the boxer or the bag"
Hey there,
And welcome to Meaningful Mud’s Monthly Mu March edition.
In splashing, muddling and paddling my way through this past month’s ebbs and flows, trying to reconcile the grotesque ugliness and cruel indifference with the joyful wonder that accompanies turning the corner and seeing a flourishing bougainvillea, I was revisited by memories of Blues, one of the local petting zoo’s resident horses where I did a voluntary summer stint many moons ago.
My work day’s relaxed rhythms of milking goats, chopping up carrots for hamsters and shoveling copious amounts of crap were enlivened by my feeding of Blues and his three neighbors. Armed with two bales of hay, my gradual approaching his paddock was reason enough to trigger an impassioned episode of neighing, with Blues energetically charging in all directions, muddying the air with dust and dirt as he attempted to surmount or topple the metal barriers of his enclosure.
The other three horses, who for the most part were docile and subdued, passively accepting the boundaries delineating and delimiting their worlds, were fleetingly roused by these theatrics, initiating their own round of nickering and sorting as they tapped into their formal feral selves and lived vicariously through Blue’s rebellious antics.
There is a chassidic tale of the late Dutch-born American clergyman and civil rights activist, A.J Muste, who, during a demonstration in the 1960s was asked by a policeman if he honestly believes his protesting can change the country. “Mister,” he unequivocally responded. “I am here demonstrating so that my country doesn’t change me.”
Perhaps Blues is A.J Muste reincarnated, personifying the necessity to hang in and hold on, as defiantly and courageously as is possible, as we try to give shape to the lives we want, and perhaps need, to be living.
Life’s injustices, hardships and disappointments, on the micro, the macro and everything in between, tend to chip away at us, dulling, reducing and sedating our beings; gradually and painstakingly dousing our embers and sparks, extinguishing the fires and flames that we are.
Whilst our fears, anxieties, heartbreaks, hurtings and insecurities do not assume as discernible a shape as Blue’s physical enclosure, they exercise the self-same function of inhibiting our imaginings, hopings and envisionings; drowning out our inner voices until they are but faint, inaudible murmurs.
So, as we march through the mud of March, which will no doubt be filled with puddles and potholes, but also burgeoning bougainvillea (if we are aware), let’s not allow life’s circumstances and trenches to “execute our souls” (please read in the voice of a worked up Al Pacino)!
Because fellow readers, “there is no prosthetic for an amputated spirit!”
Take great care out there (and in there).
And lastly, may we always be stuck in Meaningful Mud.
Tyler
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”
― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
Relax
By Ellen Bass
Bad things are going to happen.
Your tomatoes will grow a fungus
and your cat will get run over.
Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream
melting in the car and throw
your blue cashmere sweater in the drier.
Your husband will sleep
with a girl your daughter’s age, her breasts spilling
out of her blouse. Or your wife
will remember she’s a lesbian
and leave you for the woman next door. The other cat—
the one you never really liked—will contract a disease
that requires you to pry open its feverish mouth
every four hours. Your parents will die.
No matter how many vitamins you take,
how much Pilates, you’ll lose your keys,
your hair and your memory. If your daughter
doesn’t plug her heart
into every live socket she passes,
you’ll come home to find your son has emptied
the refrigerator, dragged it to the curb,
and called the used appliance store for a pick up—drug money.
There’s a Buddhist story of a woman chased by a tiger.
When she comes to a cliff, she sees a sturdy vine
and climbs half way down. But there’s also a tiger below.
And two mice—one white, one black—scurry out
and begin to gnaw at the vine. At this point
she notices a wild strawberry growing from a crevice.
She looks up, down, at the mice.
Then she eats the strawberry.
So here’s the view, the breeze, the pulse
in your throat. Your wallet will be stolen, you’ll get fat,
slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel
and crack your hip. You’ll be lonely.
Oh taste how sweet and tart
the red juice is, how the tiny seeds
crunch between your teeth.
The menu ain’t the meal but give it a bash anyway
“…I did not want to talk about the ways we were different. I wanted to talk about the ways were we connected. So I changed the subject. And at the time, it felt like the right decision. But as I sat witness to my grandmother's life as it tapered to its inevitable end, I couldn't help but feel I'd made a mistake not to share such a significant part of my life. But I also knew that I'd missed my opportunity, and as Grandma always used to say, ‘Ah, well, it's all part of the soup. Too late to take the onions out now…’”
-Hannah Gadsby, Three ideas. Three contradictions. Or not.
It has been yskoud koud (Afrikaans for moerse cold) in my part of the world. To warm up both the body and spirit sharing with you all a recipe for some ginger sweet potato and coconut milk soup with lentils and kale.
If you thought saying that was a mouthful you have no idea what’s coming!
What you’ll need:
1 generous tablespoon coconut oil
1 or 2 onions - finely diced
1 teaspoon dried chili flakes
Spices - dried coriander, cumin, turmeric (there is no correct amount but there definitely is an incorrect amount)
2 pieces fresh ginger - peeled and minced
3 cloves garlic - peeled and minced
Sea salt and ground black pepper (obviously)
Enough sweet potatoes - peeled and diced
½ cup brown lentils
4 cups vegetable stock
1 can full fat coconut milk
4 cups chopped kale
Instructions:
Add the coconut oil to your pot and let it melt. Add in the onions and stir and sauté until translucent and soft. Add in the chili flakes, coriander, cumin, and turmeric and sauté spices until very fragrant and to the point that someone comments on the smell. Add the ginger, garlic and a pinch of salt and pepper and cook for another minute.
Add in your sweet potatoes and lentils and stir to coat in the spices (feel free to add in more salt and pepper). Add in the vegetable stock and stir, scraping up any browned bits on the bottom of the pot.
Once boiling, lower the heat to a simmer and set the lid slightly askew on top of the pot. Simmer until the sweet potatoes are almost falling apart and the lentils are tender (should take around 30 minutes).
Add the coconut milk and kale and stir. Place the lid on top and continue to simmer until the kale is wilted and bright green. Taste to see if any further seasoning is required.
Optional to slightly hand blend the soup and serve your offering with chopped coriander, lime or extra chili flakes.
Not optional to not thank your divine.
“Help me down, don't pick me up
Give me something that I can touch
Just a way to hear I've loved you all along…”
-Wilderado, Help Me Down
Sonic Suggestions
“Without music, life would be a mistake.”
―Friedrich Nietzsche
That is as much of Nietzsche as I have read but the dude knows what’s up!
“Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people’s. ”
―Anaïs Nin
Thank you once again for stopping on by. It is 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 marvelously meandering March!
