Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

More Kitchen Inspiration

There is only one way to eat these mangos:  standing over the kitchen sink with the spigot ready.  You need a full facial rinse-off and hose down to the elbows after diving into this sticky sweet treat.  The tree in our yard has them falling off in our hands, and when this harvest is over (coming soon) we know that summer will be officially over.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

I keep hearing Johnny Mathis singing a Christmas song in my head as I stand in summer grass beneath a coconut palm.  It’s the

chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your nose

There’s no nipping here, just some perspiration in this tropical heat, along with the Bohemian and his diligent collection of Malabar Chestnuts.  I keep thinking this prolific tree is fairly useless with its bounty of nuts, but he insists they’re tasty and our gardening expert and friend, Mary, says they are, indeed, quite palatable when toasted.  A quick Wikipedia search teaches me this tree is often referred to as the “Money Tree.”  Hmmm…maybe the Bohemian is on to something.  If he’s a squirrel, we’ve got our winter stash.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

The green onion chives got a haircut yesterday and now all culinary dishes will be garnished in it.  I guess if our whole household is breathing onions, none of us will notice much.  As for the rest of the world, well, I’ll apologize in advance.  We’ve got to get through this harvest.  Can’t really go in small doses, green onions just don’t freeze well.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

And while we’re on the thread of inspiration, can I just include a picture of what I’ve come to selfishly term, “my door”? The “my” only inserted as some feeble attempt to connect myself with one of the most beautiful pieces of art (that is, in fact, functional) that I have ever seen.  I have held a love for doorways (and keys) for quite sometime.  This door from Bali was recently assembled by the Bohemian and a friend.  My camera could not capture the entire 19 foot wall of ornate woodwork that stands of either side of this entryway.  The craftsmanship has me awestruck.

I joke that if this could be my front door, my home could be a simple mat on the ground, and I’d be happy just to spend my days gazing upon the carvings of my entrance.

This door is so inviting!  It just begs of wonderment.  What’s on the other side?

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

My Flower

The Bohemian hiked 11 miles, bringing this cutting home to me, saying it was ‘my flower’.  At the time it was a stem with leaves.  Now it roots in a jar on our kitchen counter and these two precious buds have recently revealed themselves.

I’m guessing this plant is related to the hibiscus, but it’s a bit of mystery until I see the flowers in full bloom.  Here’s to the unfolding!

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

That’s About the Size, Where You Put Your Eyes…

I keep thinking about the clown and the saint.

It’s a story shared in Jan Frazier’s “When Fear Falls Away” about an evening when Baba Muktananda (a spiritual teacher and master) was offering darshan (a blessing that is given from a guru to a disciple). Devotees were lined up to have a turn to kneel before Muktananda and receive his gift. A whisp from the feathers he held, fanning the air of enlightenment that circled him, and one could possibly be opened to a window of new consciousness. A heightened connection to God, bestowed.

So in Frazier’s telling, there was this darshan taking place, an air of reverence there for all devotees in this sacred ceremony. Everyone dressed to their best as they prepared to come into the presence of this Master. And as the line moved along, each person making their way to Muktananda, there came into view a clown. Yes, a bonafide clown. Or at least a man dressed up as one. Bright polka dot suit, ruffled collar, white face paint and those huge, red, painted-on lips. His eyes, thick, with expressive clown make-up.

As the story goes, when the clown came before Muktananda, people began to laugh.

“…Everyone in and around the darshan line was laughing…everyone, that is, but Baba. Baba was just swishing his peacock feathers over the crown of the curly orange wig bent before him- just as he did with anyone who came up in the darshan line. Now the clown had raised up on his knees to face Baba. The guru was looking into the clown’s eyes, into the pupils at the centers of the bright red circles like bull’s eyes, looking deeply into this man who had made himself (for whatever reason) into a clown.

Finally, Baba sat back in his chair, seeming a little confused by all the laughter. He leaned down to {his translator} and asked her in their native tongue what everyone was laughing at.

{The translator said} ‘Why Baba, don’t you see? The man is dressed as a clown!’

Then Baba looked again at the man- looked, it may be, with his ordinary eyes, his merely organic eyes. It was only then that he saw the external of the person- the clown costume of him. And then Baba laughed, joining the others in the good time.

…{initially} when Baba looked at that man, he really and truly did not see a clown.”

(excerpt from Jan Frazier’s “When Fear Falls Away“)

This story of the clown and guru keeps coming back to me as I contemplate perception. Was Baba Muktananda looking with his third eye? What was he seeing when he looked at the clown? What was he seeing as he lived his days on earth?

What do each of us see through our own unique filter of perception? Quite possibly, very different worlds, often living the assumption that everyone sees what we see.

As I’ve pondered this clown story, the tune of a little song comes trailing to my mind. Its origins melded with childhood memories, its source, unknown.

That’s about the size
where you put your eyes
that’s about the size of it

With technology on my side, the world-wide web and a search engine bring me to an old segment from Sesame Street. I don’t recall the visuals, I only remember the chorus of the song that I heard as a child on television, probably, 25 years ago. I think Sesame Street was on to something. And I’m glad to see that the sentiment took root within me, still profound today.

Who would have thought that clowns, Sesame Street, and ascended masters could all connect to deliver a profound message on perception. Goes to show…that’s about the size…