planting (dream) seeds

Dream Seed

I have a number of friends traveling this week: one headed to Costa Rica, a second headed to Spain, and three dear ladies in Paris. I am sitting on my ass on a meditation cushion in Manhattan as my passport gathers dust. Don’t feel sorry for me. Okay, maybe feel sorry for me a bit. Saying no to “Is there no chance in hell you could come to Paris Feb. 4 - 8?” when I have frequent flier miles was kinda hard to do. 

If I’ve been focusing on budgets and such lately, it is not without reason. Things have been a little tight over here. If you’re a creative person with any intention at all of putting the fruits of your creativity out into the world, there are some start-up costs to be had. And if you’ve been pursuing the arts for a while, chances are you’ve managed to accrue some semblance of debt. So what I’ve been doing is paying myself forward…and finally, responsibly, paying myself backwards. And looking backwards at my finances is not unlike looking at a small town after it has been decimated by a tornado. The long and short of it: clean-up has begun, and there hasn’t been a lot of extra money in the budget for fun, much less travel, so apologies if anyone’s wondering where the heck I’ve been. 

In the interest of not becoming a complete shut-in, I’ve recently reinstituted the weekly practice of an artist’s date. If you’re familiar with The Artists’ Way and the work of Julia Cameron, the idea will be familiar to you. In a nutshell, what you do is you take yourself - just you, no friends, no significant others, just you and your happy self - for a small adventure. The goal is to treat yourself and your interests as if these things are a priority...because, you know, they should be.

The “date” can be simple or grandiose, expensive or free. Maybe you take yourself to the library and check out a book on ancient Mesopotamia, just for fun. You could go to the museum to see the dinosaurs, or drop into a knitting class for beginners, or go to a movie that you really want to see by yourself, or pick up an adult coloring book and some colored pencils, or check out a gallery reception and enjoy some free wine and cheese with your outsider art. It’s about making time for yourself. It’s about filling the well. 

My buddy Lisa - one of the aforementioned ladies in Paris - reached out to me before hopping on a plane bound for CDG this week, and asked if I’d like her ticket to an event at a yoga studio on 13th Street. I hate to see a ticket for any cultural event go to waste, so I said yes. This is how I found myself flat on my back, getting saged-and-feathered, at a shamanic sound-bath experience at The Integral Yoga Institute. 

The ritual in question was performed by Dream Seed of the Golden Drum community based in Brooklyn. Dream Seed is a loosely-formed band of students and musicians studying with an elder of the Taino tradition across the bridge - who knew. In a spoken introduction beforehand, one of the students performing made the point that, very often, people use music as an escape. He invited the participants to work with the music internally, as certain sounds and vibrations might stir up or activate some latent energy within us. At any rate, after 90-or-so minutes of experiencing wave after wave of live musical improvisation on instruments from all over the world, I stumbled out onto the sidewalk and into the night, relaxed and reeking of incense.

You can check out some sound samples of Dream Seed’s work here. My recommendation: close the bedroom door, light a candle or fire-up some incense, kill the lights, cue up some sounds, and treat yourself to a 20-minute savasana. It may not quite be Paris, but you can still tell yourself you’re at a hookah bar in Montparnasse.

$5 at ALDI

If you're not familiar with ALDI, you're forgiven. The grocery store is relatively new here in the States, though you're probably familiar with a chain they own: Trader Joe's.

Now, it's not a perfect store - at least, by American sensibilities. They're not particularly convenient. (Case in point: the closest one to my Manhattan apartment is in the Kingsbridge section of the Bronx.) They won't have everything you're looking for, though they'll have quite a bit. If you want to use a cart, you have to put down a 25-cent deposit (you get it back at check-out). You bag your own groceries, and provide your own bags. Oh, and no credit cards. Cash and pin-based debit cards only.

So why even bother? They have some organic produce, some gluten-free items, and some items similar to store brand items you'd find at the aforementioned Trader Joe's. But the real reason to go is their price-point. It's like shopping at Wal-Mart without dancing with the devil.

After reading yet another article about this store and what they bring to the table, I decided it was time I checked this place out for myself. I gave myself a challenge: to see how far I could get with $5. I walked out with two cans of beans, a dozen eggs, two bell peppers, and a box of mushrooms for a grand total of $4.91.

I put my bounty into my tote bag, tucked that nine cents in change back into my pocket, and managed to restrain myself from victoriously skipping all the way home. It was tempting, but would have jostled the eggs.

tonight, we dine in Venice

It's that week. The one where I have no - and I do mean no - money, but there's two cans of sardines, a can of tomatoes, and some finely-ground cornmeal for polenta in the pantry, some dying basil near the window, a half dried-up nub of garlic on top of the microwave, and the remnants of some parm-reg in the fridge. 

A proper Italian will rage that I topped it with cheese, but the fish came out of a can, and they can get over it.  I'm Sicilian (among other things), and I do what I want. But mostly I give thanks every damned day that I was raised on the kitchen counter by good cooks, and that I know how to feed myself. 

Tonight, we dine in Venice.