Rivera Runs Through It

Two years ago I started a new blog called Rivera Runs Through It where I decided I would blog about everything except the great "FOOD FIGHT". I wanted to keep these two worlds separate: my creative in one corner and my activist in another. It was a great idea at the time, and while I won't go so far as to say it has become a bad idea, I will say that it is one that is no longer serving its initial purpose.

For the past couple of months I found myself silenced in both worlds, feeling that too much of what I wanted to say lived somewhere in the middle of them. I have decided there is only one solution: unification. Since Rivera Runs Through It was created with more diversity in mind, that is where this new unification will call home. It is my hope that when I do write "Searching for Sustenance worthy" posts, I will remember to come back here to redirect you to them, however, realistically, I know me - I am going to forget.

I understand that subscribers to Searching for Sustenance may not be interested in all of the meanderings of my mind, but I thought I would announce this "official" move thereby giving you the opportunity to make that decision yourself. Here is the new About Me & This Blog page for Rivera Runs Through It. If you like what you read, I'd love to see you over there!

Thank you so much for all of your support and your reading all these years!

The Joy of Being Fed

I think that "thank you" is sometimes not strong enough to express the gratitude for a home cooked meal. I know that the term Soul Food has connotations of its own - a flavor, a culture, heck there's even a movie! - but when I have had the experience of a home cooked meal prepared for me I am hard pressed to find a better expression than "soul food" to encapsulate how it truly nourishes my being.

This is my phone life right now.

Yesterday I had a long and difficult day. I spent the entire day on the phone with various bureaucrats in my union, my human resources department, and bill collectors who have suddenly appeared with questions about my grandmother's essentially non-existent estate. This is exacerbated by the fact that the only phone that functions appropriately in my home is a land-line, corded phone. So I spent the day, like it was 1982 on a chair in the middle of my kitchen trapped until each called ended. It is actually kind of funny now that it is over.

I ate a hard boiled egg and a bowl of cereal all day, that was it. Ridiculous, I know, but true. There was time for little else, because when my husband got home, we had an appointment to go to. Another stress I was not looking forward to. Needless to say, with all of this, dinner was not something I had thought about. In the midst of our meeting, my husband had to excuse himself because his cell phone rang. I thought it was strange, but it must have been justified...

As we left (not sure if we were more or less relieved than when we entered) he explained that the call was from his mother and he got nervous because she called twice in a row. I understood, and then he said the magic words,

"She cooked for us."

It was as if the entire insanity of my day melted away. I was saved! Food was coming my way - good food was coming my way and for no other reason than she loves us and she has extra. Soul food.

We had pork chops, rice and beans and a salad. It might as well have been the food of the gods.

I say thank you a thousand times over, I was the dishes, I say thank you some more, but is the message received? Is the sentiment conveyed? How does one truly show one's appreciation for a meal?

Then Something Sprouted...

One year ago today, A Seed Was Planted... and with it, this blog was born. March 12th is my blog-iversary!

I can vaguely remember the day, a Friday night, when I wrote that first post. It was the end of another long week, I was battling for my career life at school and well-aware that I was feeling sicker and sicker by the day. The more I listened to my new audiobook (Eating Animals) and remembering all those books that I had read before it, I knew I wasn't helping matters with what I was eating. My life has dramatically changed since that day, and the epiphanies I had in the first weeks of writing this blog count for a large part of that shift.

At the time I was writing straight out into the big wide-empty. I wasn't sure anyone would ever see my blog, read my words or share my sentiments, but it seems that seed that was planted that day has grown into a seedling of its own. I am a better and healthier person because of Searching for Sustenance and am forever grateful for having this little space in the blog-iverse to continue to grow. For those who have joined this search with me I am forever grateful for the support and the company!

In a search just now to find a nice picture of a seedling to add to this post, I found a beautiful poem that, in many ways, expresses how I feel about this blog as it grows in my mind everyday. It is called The Seedling and it is written by John McGrael. I simply love it.

The Seedling

A Poem by John McGrael

One night while I was dreaming,

A tree grew in my mind.

Though little but a seedling,

I took refuge in its pines.

On the morrow, cold and dreary, whilst walking through my thoughts,

My eyes stuck on a seedling, so I walked towards its lot.

Then my thoughts were thinking, "how strange, this could not be...

For I am in a city, yet this seedling grows on green!"

But O, I looked around me. I looked upon an open field!

Its as if my thoughts were running, through a mystery revealed.

I found my sanctuary, in the field my mind had found.

I took refuge in it's flowers, and the seedling's soothing sound.

I would visit this place often, the depths of thought and seed.

My thoughts had learned to think, and in those thoughts was peace.

That evening walking home, through the city, from the dreaming;

I felt like I was leaving from; my home, the field, the seedling.

I felt as if this city bound me, that I may never soar.

When a raven perched upon a bush, whispered to me, "nevermore".

--- 

That night I was the dreamer,

The tree grew more and more.

Its leaves forever greener,

Echo "nevermore".

Again whilst I was dreaming, I walked into the field,

The seedling now a gentle tree, a mystery revealed.

I slept upon its branches, and ate its fruit with ease.

I marveled in its aura, I listened to its leaves;

And then I knew the mystery, that had been revealed.

For it was in the leaves, and it was in the field.

As long as I was with them, I was as carefree as the breeze.

Nourished by their scent, I could live among the trees.

Now conscious, walking through the city, I took asylum in the thoughts.

I could not stay within this city, I needn't live for naught.

So in my mind, I left the city, went to the field where I could soar.

For now I understood, the city bound me nevermore;

And when I made this realization, the tree grew towards the sky.

Now a mighty fortress, and a beauty to the eye.

So now I walk the city, with conscious thought and word.

From my mighty fortress, leaves echoing the bird.

And in this sweet asylum, in this sacred lore;

There is a sweet raven, whisp'ring "nevermore"!

© 2009 John McGrael