Luckybeans

Hidden Word Number Thirteen

This week's HIdden Word is:

O SON OF SPIRIT!

I have created thee rich, why dost thou bring thyself down to poverty? Noble I made thee, wherewith dost thou abase thyself? Out of the essence of knowledge I gave thee being, why seekest thou enlightenment from anyone beside Me? Out of the clay of love I molded thee, how dost thou busy thyself with another? Turn thy sight unto thyself, that thou mayest find Me standing within thee, mighty, powerful and self-subsisting.

~Baha'u'llah

Discussion:

Remember our gold coins. How has God made us rich? How do we make ourselves poor?

What sort of nobility is inside of us? In what ways do we deny this nobility?

What are good sources of knowledge? Think about the difference between seeking truth and doubt.

God created us to become spiritual beings. The world is a gift so that we may learn from it and experience it fully. What do we lose by becoming distracted by it and lost in it, knowing it only for its own sake instead of looking at it as a way to learn?

Activity:

Use modeling clay (or beeswax) to create something representing what we love very much. Can you see the mark of your fingers in it? Does it reflect your care and love?

We used a polymer clay based on this recipe. It is a less toxic version of fimo that air dries hard and paintable. I adjusted the recipe as follows:

Polymer Clay

1 large bottle of white glue (7oz or roughly 3/4C)

1 C cornstarch

2 TBS mineral oil

juice of 1 lemon

Combine all ingredients in a small pot. This takes some stirring!

Over medium heat, stir continually until the mixture thickens.

Turn it our and knead it while still hot. If it is too sticky, add more cornstarch. I found it helped if I coated my hands with oil.

Keep the clay sealed until ready for use. It took about 2 days to fully air dry. I should also note that this has a rubbery texture, which means it is not as much like plastecine as I had imagined. It does better with larger, more organic shapes than highly detailed sculptures. The children all enjoyed working with it, though.

 

I will be honest with you. Things have been a bit odd around here. Not bad odd, but busy in strange ways, and slightly tired and disorganised. Simon is home for a bit, which is good of course, and accounts for the donuts (which in turn account for our headaches and slight nausea this afternoon).

I spent a great deal of time over the past week and a half sorting through our digital photos. I printed something like 70 of them, which accounts for the photo wall finally getting up (Lukas, take note). Not all of the prints were for me, of course. Many had to be distributed among family...

...which accounts for an afternoon writing letters and such. Which I of course enjoy very much. For the record, I used MPix to print and was terribly pleased with the result. You can calibrate your monitor to their settings which means that the prints actually do look like, well, what they look like. And the black and whites were true black and whites instead of oddly tinged, and lovely and crisp and sharp. 

 

I am also trying to catch up on all the odd bits of laundry that accumulate-- things like hand washing and woollens and winter coats and shoes.

All of this before we head up to BC this weekend to visit Simon's family. I will not be blogging while I am gone. I shall see you all my lovelies when I return. Except for briefly this afternoon when I post this week's HIdden Word. But then, truly, I am removing my sadly disorganised self from blogdom for a few weeks.

 

 

The Tomten is on the Move

This past week's weather and change of the calendar meant that Asher felt quite strongly it was time for his tomten to make a more prominant appearance. Perhaps it is because of the book, "The Tomten and the Fox", but Asher definitely associates cold with tomtens. So he and I spent a few minutes alone together (it is always delicious to get the opportunity to do something special with just one little, isn't it?) setting up a new nature table. Of course there were tomtens and a fox, fresh cedar and wool snow. Oh, and do note the tomten's "flute" Ana carved for him.  The cedar smells so good, it brings a smile to our faces; we even had to add a swag to the bench in the dining room (with pomegranates, of course).  Asher is quite pleased with it all. My sweet, tomten-loving boy.

(I ought to add a special thank you here to Auntie Lynne for introducing my children to the magic of the Tomten who does, in fact, live in her barn when he is not off on his travels).

Hidden Word Number Twelve

This week's Hidden Word:

O SON OF BEING!

With the hands of power I made thee and with the fingers of strength I created thee; and within thee have I placed essence of My light. Be thou content with it and seek naught else, for My work is perfect and My command is binding. Question it not, nor have a doubt thereof.

~Baha'u'llah

 

Discussion:

Remember that we are created because of love. Imagine being created with so much power and strength, because of love. How precious does that make each one of us? 

What is the essence of God's light? How do we let it shine out?

Being content with this light can mean many things. Some of the things we discussed were accepting our true selves and also trying to avoid materialism. Our joy should be founded in spiritual, not material, reality. 

If God's work is perfect, are we? Having given us free will, it would seem that God expects us to make mistakes. Can mistakes be part of perfection? In human terms, maybe perfection is in the process.

Does not questioning God's work mean we shouldn't ask questions? What is the difference between doubting and being curious and seeking understanding?

 

Activity:

 I'll be honest. We were busy being outside a lot, and didn't want to spend as much time on acitivities this week. But the discussion was pretty intense! So I let the activity level go. We cleaned up our watercolour lanterns (an excellent tutorial for making them can be found here) and our prayer box that we use each morning. The box holds matches for the candles in the lanterns, a copy of "The Hidden Words" with a pir of twelve sided dice (I role these to determine a number for an already memorised Hidden Word to practice so we don't forget them) and a selection of prayers that I printed out and pasted onto pretty paper for us to choose from. Having everything in place like this makes for much easier prayer times in the morning as we head out the door. It also helps us to not choose the same prayer every. single. time. And to gradually memorise the ones that are printed. It is a very simple thing, making a prayer box, but it has had a big impact on our ability to have morning devotions together.

4:32-:39

It thawed today, the temperature breaching freezing and dispersing the frost. At 4:32, I am in the dark of a December afternoon. I pause on the return journey, among the hills and marsh I know well.  Flocks of geese turn and settle, ducks call to one another, cries of hawks rise shrill in the still-fog air. 

Contours blur, recede to dimness. The air is sharp, swooping back to frozen. The sun dips as the moon rises. A few moments outside the car (motor running-lights on-emergency brake set), just to watch.

I spent today far away from exam rooms. I sat with my mother and drank tea. Pots of tea. Each of us, over the course of hours. We spoke of language and its creative power, of poetry, people, science, love and God. We spoke of children and family and stories and deer who run down students on college campuses. We laughed and talked, drinking in the company along with the tea.

Sometimes I look at my own children with astonishment. They are so very grown, so large and realised and independent. But then I spend a day alone with my mother, and I come home to find them waiting, ready to receive the apple cake and hot chocolate bestowed upon the neglected. And I think, one day I will send the apple cake to grandchildren after spending a day stolen to be with these children of my own.

What beauty there is in the full roundness of time.

 

 

 

Fog, Frost and Clafoutis

There is a hush in fog that will not lift, an unspoken suppression of movement by nature herself, a stillness in what cannot be seen, a muffling of senses in soft billows of white and vapor. I have not seen the sun in three days, but I do not mind. These are long moments of pause, when time itself seems a frivolity. If ever magic occurred, it must have been on days like these, when the brightness of sun never quite pierced the veil of cloud, when the frost still clung to each blade of grass and leaf and pine needle and strand of web in a fierce chill of tenacity.

And what do we mere mortals do with ourselves? We bundle into coats and woollens, cradle hot mugs so the warmth can seep through to our marrow, burrow deep into the snug cosiness of home. And we keep the ovens on.

There is a special place in my heart (and stomach) for the eggy baked good. I do not like eggs in their savory aspects. Not scrambled, fried, poached, coddled, omeletted, souffled, boiled...no. Not even with toast soldiers for dipping, and that is terribly difficult to resist. The only way I find their countenance remotely approachable is beneath a heavy cloak of HP sauce. Even the smell of them cooking has led to a fleeing of the premises.

But bake them in a batter, and, well-- that is another sort of magic that only fog can rival. Their congealed wetness and rubbery edges give way to silken smooth custards and glorious puffs of golden puddings. Here is the realm of the custard, the flan, the creme caramel, the puff pancake, the Dutch baby, the popover, the humble Yorkshire pudding. Forgiving by nature, almost laughable in their simplicity and ease of preparation. They only ask that you not open the oven door on them, and eat them up without too much delay. Not so very much to ask, really. And recently, a new member was added to the ranks of eggy glory-- the clafoutis. I came across this lovely recipe on Lecia's blog a few weeks ago. Cranberries thrown into what is apparently the glorified French version of a thick and sweet Yorkshire pudding? Oh yes, please. Let's try that.

Today, while the fog wended its solemn way among the forsted strands of spiderwebs draped like tinsel on the fir trees, I turned that oven on, reached for some egg and cream, sugar and cranberries, and set to. Never one to follow directions or recipes with great amounts of precision, I fiddled and tweaked a bit. The biggest change was the addition of the pomegranate, because if it is sitting there in all of its jewel-chest plumpness, I certainly can not turn it away. So here it is: Cranberry and Pomegrante Clafoutis, with a nod to Lecia, who respectively nods to Martha Stewart.

Cranberry and Pomegranate Clafoutis

1 knob of butter, for the dish
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons all purpose flour
pinch of salt
2 large eggs
1 cup chilled heavy cream
¾ cup whole milk
fine zest of two mandarin oranges
1 1/2  cups fresh cranberries, coarsely chopped, and the seeds of 1 pomegranate

Preheat oven to 400F. Butter a 9 inch dish (I used a tart dish), then sprinkle the 2 tablespoons granulated sugar onto the dish. Sift the remaining ½ cup granulated sugar, the flour, and salt into a large bowl. Gradually whisk in the eggs, ¾ cup cream, the milk, and zest.

Scatter the cranberries into the dish, with half of the pomegranate seeds, then pour the batter over the top. Bake until puffed, slightly set, and brown around the edges, 30-35 minutes. Cool on a rack for 15 minutes (it will sink). Before serving, sprinkle with the remaining half of the pomegranate seeds. 

Enjoy!

Perhaps It Is the Old Lady in Me

I find myself reminding myself most strongly of my grandmother these days. Avidly watching the weather, waiting for the post to be delivered, baking pies to ward off the chill. Still, there is something to be said for such things. I am inclined to believe that these behaviours are due, at least in part, to this time of year lending itself to such sudden swings, dips and other acts of an intemperate sort, that comfort must be taken where it may. The same few days on the camera document the burnished days of autumn and the iced breath of winter in a span that fits within the parameter of uploading in a digital age. The trees, in a fit of pique, shed leaves to stand naked in a sun that is so weak, the children wondered aloud if the moon had not risen early. I, on the other hand, am shedding nothing, but clambering into layers of silk and wool undergarments at an alarming rate. 

Do you know what one of my secret desires is? A pen pal with elegant writing, so that I can recieve letters in real ink on thick paper.  I would even reply. Imagine such a luxury. This morning, I thought of it again when I saw the box had put on its winter finery. I did so wish I could describe this moment in the context of collecting a letter.

But who, indeed, has time. Here it becomes apparant that I am not, despite weather and pies and long underwear, my grandmother after all. I have spent my spare moments writing a blog post, not penning a letter.

 

Now I must dash to a Final Exam in Applied Math. I have been told that coffee and chocolate make for an indisputable edge when sitting exams. I am not one to argue, so off I go to don my layers, fed on lady fingers, hazelnut spread, and a mug of coffee.

 

Fog Tea

What odd weather this weekend has brought. Freezes and frosts, clear blue skies and fog so dense we could barely see ten meters ahead. But it has not been raining, so we have been outside. The cold, however, means that these forays are only warranted when accompanied by flasks of tea.

There is not much to say, really. Just a few quiet moments spent together in the dim chill of the woods, drinking tea, collecting sticks and such.

One of those days.

This Morning

We woke up to a world sugared in glittering frost.

 

The children ran outside in boots (one in pajamas)

 

and found that all along the back fence, where we have layered mulch under black plastic to create beds for next summer, the puddles had frozen.

With great glee, they discovered they could pick up the puddles, and came running to show me.

 

They devised a plan of puddle collection and transporting.

 

Even Ana had to leave her book to come investigate.

 

"Mum! Mum! Look! I can see you through the ice!"

 

They finished making their "stacked puddles" and came back in to have a cup of tea and do their Saturday morning chores.

 

It is hard to believe that only a few weekends ago we were busy stacking firewood and getting ready for the cold (and just look at all of Bella's hair!). It seemed so theoretical. I realize we are still not used to the seasons, to how swiftly they move, to how different they are. Which only makes it all the more magical.

Hidden Word Number Eleven

This week's Hidden Word:

O SON OF BEING!

Thou art My lamp and My light is in thee. Get thou from it thy radiance and seek none other than Me. For I have created thee rich and have bountifully shed My favor upon Thee.

~Baha'u'llah

 

Discussion:

Remember how God's love is within us? It's like the light inside of a lamp. This week, refelct on how God has made us rich. Rich in what? How has He shed His bounty on us?  

Activity:

This week I directed the children to reflect inward, as we have been doing a lot of thinking about the gifts God gives us in a more outward sense (for example, we have been looking at nature and family, etc, so we focused on personal things such as individual talents or virtues). We thought of the spiritual qualities that are so unique in each one of us. For every quality, attribute, or special bounty we have been given, we wrote it down on a blank office sticker and attached it to a chocolate coin. A bright and golden pile of yummy wealth, reminding us of all that we have to be grateful for!