יום שלישי, 28 בספטמבר 2010

chicken noodle for my soul




I didn't know what to write on my "letter home" assignment. It was too close to home. The one that I hated and wanted to escape since as far back as I can remember. What ever gave me that impression?

Reasons for not wanting to talk about holocaust or cancer:
It is difficult to look in this mirror.

My body is a living archive carrying the holocaust's memory.
I, as twin grand daughter of to a half twin-set, with many twin mutations in my family of identical and non-identical pairs, claim that the twin lineage goes all the way from the story of Lena Scheinberg, my grandfather sister on my mother's side which would make her my great ant, who was raped by NAZI German soldiers under the direction of Dr. Josef Mengele and was impragnated with twins -only to later on be releaved of them in ways further torturous ways.

It continues when then crazy old Lena moves to America and marries Martin.
They never have kids, and years later after she dies Martin remarries a young Asian chick.
My parents encounter them on a plain and wonder about loss of possible inheritance.

Money was a subject to talk about and also shitting. But sex, abortion and kissing and tattoos were all discussed as one same thing - other people do it and enjoy it maybe - but not us.
Granma who got widowed relatively young always read those romance novels, and my mother never touched me; as if we had six hundreds layers of cotton wool between us or otherwise those educational spanks I remember too well. Mom and her mother are also dead now, because of cancer and also because of not talking about cancer or their bodies or sex.

Had I known then what I know now, that my DNA was contaminated - oh maybe I could have prevented getting sick at the age of 27 ? Maybe I would not pick up smoking, or excersiced more? Would have and if are our worst living enemies. My Shiatsu teacher would say: "Problem solution same thing" and "seek resonance". I enterpert: "seek compassion through identification, forgive and release".

Actually, Japanese and Jewish cultures are not too far apart when it comes to body image but also and especially when it comes to healing through whole foods (and I do not mean Whole Paycheck). Food serves as nourishment to the soul and specific foods can pertain to particular conditions.

Anyways, here are some recipes from grandma's kitchen, if she ever made it to Japan that is.
A perfect companion to fall, a harvest chicken mushroom noodle soup to warm you up and keep you healthy.

Chicken Noodle a'la Breast Cancer

1 Chicken, thighs and bones whole. Try and get a fresh one from your butcher, or a non-antibiotic free range bird.
1 summer squash, sliced and pealed.
6 carrots, sliced and pealed.
3 fennels, squared (twice halved).
3 onions, squared.
1 pack shitake mushroom, fresh, sliced.
3 shitake mushroom, dry and soaked, sliced.
1\2 pack fresh frozen peas
1 garlic (as desired)
1 small red pepper

herbs:
thyme
kombu
basil
spring onion

salt and pepper to taste

garnish with fresh baby spinach leaves

Udon/ Noodles (soak in boiling water according to instructions))

Preparation:

Boil Poultry, when boils decap with ladel all of the grubby froth until clear. Dump in all of your veg cut according to list and bring to second boil. Season to taste and serve over large bowl of noodles with chopsticks and spoon. Garnish with fresh leaves to wilt.



(note: i'm still writing this. let me know what you think)

יום ראשון, 26 בספטמבר 2010

fire/water meditation

This was taken yesterday morning, as I was smoking my roll and watering the garden,
fire at one hand water in the other, a butterfly emerged from within the fallen leaves and
although it wasn't at all beautiful, I had a feeling of accomplishment; of getting to the point
of completion and satisfaction from my own actions and I was thankful.

butterfly

Back

Hi lady,
How are 'ya ?
I hope the post surgery pain is decreasing every day, and that you're outta bed by now.
Berlin was fantastic fun, even with the fam. Sis came from Oz and shocked us all, the rascal.
I'm pretty pleased with the show, it still goes on until Oct 12 but we only had the one week
before going back (me: to chemo and also art school ! boys: to the office)
Sylvie and Wayne arrived and I nearly had a brain anurism from cognitive dissonance trying to bridge the two worlds...
You can see for yourself in the Fllickr links the happy dialogues...
We even did the family trip to the park for scoring some meds pour moi...
I think I'm in euphoric/utopic space.

Here are some word from my "letter home" for the show:

A home coming.

An initiation of the masculine/feminine person into creative practice takes place on occasion of great illness. Disabled, the masculine/feminine body waits to be mended in a field, while all
that time its mind races and thirsts for knowledge.

The last of its sex, now the eldest IT has a mission:
to find and locate familial information around the physical body, regarding origination of the carcinogen. Its origin may lye in collective/personal trauma, passed down through the physical subconscious, deep down under dermis.

The Lena of the species is now on fire. Solar plexes open, out through the rectal muscle causing
a warming of the uterus. Helm at hand and hand we are driving towards each other causing
moons on top and bottoms to melt into warm water.

The Lena Grand mother survived the Great war and was made invalid by the soldiers.
They replaced her uterus with twins, which now run in sequence @double helix code.
Helms are powerful navigators, they control information. in order to leave our body/houses
we need to know how to control them. Who ever controls the Helm/Plexus controls one's climate.

A masculine/feminine prodigal person is now home, self-mendicating.


* Lena is GAGA for pelvic bone


Here are some more words, from my initial response:

Dear Home,
I can't move.

I'm stuck like a bug on the floor and am calling people on the phone to help me up. I'm being shipped to the emergency room, they can't see anything wrong with me although I'm in immense pain.
Take a pill and sleep on it, they say and meanwhile the cancer spreads and spreads and enters my bones. CT scan, MRI scan, Doppler scan, X-Ray scan, and my body doesn't straighten itself well enough to fit into the machines, I cry, bitch and moan then pass out. Blessed Morphine, the bone mapping discovers and uncovers the situation: the cancers moved from my breast to my bones and spread all over my body from head to toe, or liver.
I wake up in Oncology couple months later, my family surrounds me, hovering worried sick.

Dear home, I'm a cripple.
I can't leave you now.
I have to fix this, by
breaking my
own
pattern

not knowing my family history does not exempt from living it,
the body knows and remembers.
My body is an archive of sensation.
My mind is the engine for the body.
The males survive the females, they concur
had I known prior how to be well
would I do anything different ?

Dear Home -
It's never too late.
I'm stuck with you now
but this time
I will bring you change
from within.



I'd like to hear your thoughts on the subject.




יום חמישי, 9 בספטמבר 2010

TO K

Dear K

I've decided to dedicate this blog to writing about all things girly
that includes shoes, boys, relationships, recepies, artistic creation,
music, coffee, reading and what ever makes us smile.

Thinking about you in the hospital and hope and wish you're doing swell.

This week was my birthday as well as the Jewish new year.
I celebrated this on a weekend movement workshop in Jerusalem
traveled solo in my little green car all dressed in white festive
you feel as if you're joining in on a certain frequency that a color emits
and purely by breathing, in and out and up and down, front and back
I felt totally purified with no trace of disease or pain.

Now am ready to start packing for the Berlin trip !

Quoting "200 cigarettes": 2010 is going to be the best year eva !"


Much love

S.