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Good Food for Good Sweet & Sour Meatballs

{What You Need}

for meatballs:

1 lb. ground pork

1/4 cup almond flour

1 tsp Chill -n- Grill

avocado oil

for sweet & sour sauce:

1/2 cup Good Food For Good Ketchup

1/2 can of pineapple in juice, chopped

1 T rice vinegar

1/4 tsp ground ginger

chopped chives to top (optional)

{What You Do}

Combine almond flour and Chill -n- Grill in a bowl, add ground pork & mix together.

Scoop & roll into even meatballs.

Heat avocado oil in a skillet and add the meatballs. Cook until starting to brown, about 4 minutes. Flip to cook on the other side.

Add ketchup, pineapple, rice vinegar and ground ginger in a bowl. Pour over meatballs & simmer until pork comes to temperature. Top with chives & enjoy every bite!

YES DAY

It’s hard to comprehend we have been staying home for over a year. Our daughter has handled being cooped up like a champ. She’s gotten quite creative and we manage to have all kinds of fun despite the circumstances. We talk about our feelings as they come up and practice working through the difficult emotions. It has been a challenge (understatement of the year!), but I’ve tried to make the most of the extra time we have together. What a bizarre experience to need to constantly say no to the outside world. 

When I listened to Jennifer Garner talk about her new movie, Yes Day, on the That Sounds Fun Podcast, I knew we had to watch it and plan our own (pandemic) Yes Day. 

We loved the movie and she immediately thought of a few fun ideas. At this point, she is accustomed to staying home, so I also helped her brainstorm some ideas that could work outside of our house. We decided to kick off spring break with our Yes Day.

We were super lucky the weather said YES with a beautiful, sunny spring day!

Here is what we were able to accomplish in our 24-hour Yes Fest:

Waffle pancake feast

Computer time

Start reading Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows

Noodle battle

Adventure to explore Kent

Toy store

Bookstore

Taco Tonto’s picnic

Throw stones in the river

Teach us the 6 Octopi names

Epic pillow fight

Homemade pizza

Campfire

S’mores

Stargaze

Read Harry by candlelight at the campfire

Flamingo skit

Watch Harry Potter & Prisoner of Azkaban (for the first time!)

Stay up past midnight

I will cherish these memories forever. The day I got to say YES all day during a worldwide pandemic. A day full of laughs and giggles. Even the hangry moment when I waited too long to order our tacos. The day she got to call the shots and bring out the kid in Dan, Josh and me.  

We decided it will be our tradition to begin spring break with a Yes Day. I’m excited to see how it will evolve over the years and the options we will have when the pandemic is over!

Food Freedom Chill -n- Grill Tuna Casserole

{what you need}

2 boxes Banza penne

3 cans of tuna

1 T fat of choice

8 oz. mushrooms, sliced

3/4 chicken bone broth

1 cup unsweetened plain almond milk, divided in two 1/2 cups

1 leek, washed and thinly sliced

1 medium sweet onion, diced

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 tsp Chill -n- Grill + more to taste

{what you do}

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

First you’ll make the mushroom soup:

Heat fat of choice (I used 1/2 T of avocado + 1/2 T of bacon fat) in pan.

Add mushrooms, leek and onion to the pan & stir. Cook until onions are translucent.

Add the garlic and 1 tsp Chill -n- Grill and stir for a minute.

Add broth & coconut milk. Simmer for 10 minutes or so to let it thicken. Stir it up occasionally.

Use a hand blender in the pan, or pour into your blender, to blend it all up.

For the Banza penne:

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Banza pasta creates all kinds of foam when it cooks, so allow for room in the pot.

Add the penne & stir right away. The goal is al dente penne, so set your timer for 5 minutes. Pay attention, the foam is coming! It’s a little tricky to cook just right. You don’t want it to get mushy. Drain & immediately rinse with cold water.

To assemble the casserole:

Grease a baking dish.

Dump the mushroom soup in a large bowl. Add 1/2 cup of almond milk. Add drained cans of tuna and flake apart with a fork. Stir in 1 tsp Chill -n- Grill. Stir it up. Add the noodles and stir some more.

Dump the noodles into the dish and spread them out. Pour remaining 1/2 cup of almond milk evenly over the top of the noodles. Bake uncovered for 30 minutes. Pull it out of the oven, stir it up once more.

This meal will make about 8 servings, so you can enjoy feeding others! Or it makes for yummy leftovers!

Monkey Mind

In Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life, Dani Shapiro’s words ring true. “The meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg speaks of catching the mind scampering off, like the little monkey that it is, into the past, the future, anywhere but here, and suggests that the real skill in meditation is simply noticing that the mind has wandered. So liberating, this idea that we can start over at any time, a thousand times a day if need be. I see many parallels between the practices of meditation and writing but none are more powerful than this. Writing is hard. We resist, we procrastinate, we veer off course. But we have this tool, this ability to begin again.” 

Our minds roll at an astonishing speed and it’s easy to feel so busy and consumed that we never check in on our inner chatter. My meditation practice has taught me how to become the observer of the endless parade of my thoughts.

It’s called a practice for a reason. I think people often misunderstand and assume they cannot meditate. It bums me out to hear people tell themselves they can’t do it. So let me just say, you can if you decide to try. 

I’ve been at it for years and I continue to experience my thoughts trailing off to run buck wild while I practice. The practice involves noticing when you drift off and bringing yourself back to the moment. Over and over and over again. Over time, your ability to catch your monkey mind rambling and bring it back to the present will improve.

Here’s one example from this week of the thoughts I noticed in savasana. As I relaxed into my mat, I thought: Breathe in love. Breathe out love. Breathe in love. Breathe out love. Breathe in love. Breathe out love. I wonder if my friend figured out her foot cramps? I wonder if she knows about LMNT packs? She mentioned her high heels. Carrie Bradshaw’s shoes. The episode when Big is leaving for California and Miranda’s water breaks on her new fancy pair. How do they walk around the city in stilettos? I’d fall on my face for sure! I’ve still never been to NYC. I think I’d get claustrophobic. I loved reading Ani’s stories about New York in her memoir. I can’t imagine living there when the pandemic hit. I wonder how many people left and aren’t coming back. I can’t believe we’ve been isolating for an entire year! How is that possible?! I’m so excited to start seeing everyone again soon!! Wait…what am I doing? Oh yeah, I’m meditating. Breathe in love. Breathe out love. Breath in love. Breathe out love. Oh I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer. What else do I have to cook? Maybe I’ll make Banza pasta. Oooo my marinated onions are ready. I’ll make a big salad . . . Hahaha breathe in love. Breathe out love.  

Savasana Forever

A few weeks after my husband died, I learned of a local yoga retreat scheduled for the first weekend in April. My friend, Jessie, agreed to go with me so I signed us both up. Leba, my friend/yoga teacher, knew that her friend/teacher from her studio was teaching at the retreat, and asked her thoughts about me attending in my current state. Michelle thought it would be okay and offered to look out for me. Leba made sure to introduce us before the retreat. Michelle radiated a calm, loving presence and put me right at ease. (I could not have imagined that two years later, Michelle would become one of my yoga teacher trainers. It has been a joy and a blessing to train and practice with her).

When Jessie and I arrived at the retreat site, a bumper sticker jumped out at us that exclaimed, “Will work for poop!” We side eyed each other in contemplation, giggled and wondered aloud what that could possibly mean. It took a little of the edge off of walking into an unknown situation in the depths of my torment. 

I was not at all psyched about sleeping in bunk beds in a room full of strangers, but I was very invested in experiencing the retreat. My plan was to not say much, and I didn’t. I found myself wishing it was a silent retreat so I would not have to utter a word. I planned then to look into silent retreats, and though I still have not done the research, the idea of a mute gathering still beckons to me. 

I remember glancing at people thinking, they have NO idea about my suffering, and I, in turn, have no clue about their inner worlds. Kenny’s death was my bizarre, terrible initiation into a stark reality of the world: People are living with unseeable, untold, unfathomable pain. They always have been, I was just blissfully unaware of the existence of this particular human resonance. Now, tuned into the reverberation, everything felt dissonant and disturbed.

I took the classes, meditated, journaled, picked at the food and spent time in the woods. I released many tears and made no attempts to connect with anyone. I felt totally incapable of making a new friend or even an acquaintance. Michelle did check in with me, which I very much appreciated, and I enjoyed taking her class.

A moment of surrender my friend captured from our yoga retreat on April 2, 2016.

At one point, Jessie nudged her head toward one of the teachers and said, “It is definitely her car.” I can’t remember her name, her face or her class, but I do know this was declared as a compliment as we both dug her vibe and style. I nodded and grinned in agreement.  

During the last session on Saturday evening, the cabins lost all power. We stood in the dark for a few minutes, and then it hit me: I live fifteen minutes from here. I could go home and sleep in my own bed. Why didn’t I do this last night?! My friend smiled at my slow revelation and said she was surprised, knowing me well, that this hadn’t been my plan all along. My brain was tied up and blurry from shock and pain, so I was not at all surprised I had missed the obvious. We promised each other we would wake up early (though I would be the one to sleep in or bail, not her) and ensure we were back for the first class, an early morning meditation. I kept my word and we arrived, well rested, early Sunday morning before the first session began.

The weekend wrapped up with a final yoga class. We practiced in front of the windows facing the woods, our mats illuminated in the late morning sun. I gazed at the birds skittering around like the thoughts of Kenny ricocheting in my mind. As I settled in for savasana, a powerful feeling washed over me. It was a knowing, and a presence I recognized as Kenny. I swear I knew before the first note . . . our song was about to play. I heard the guitar chords, and a wall of anguish flooded over from deep inside of me, a rapid surge of countless, complex emotions. Relief that he was there; despair that he also very much was not and never would be again. I let it all come, allowed it to pummel me, made no attempt to quell the crushing wave. It is worth noting that I had never before heard any Ben Harper song play during savasana, let alone our song: Forever.   

Jessie gently placed her hand on me as I wept in savasana. The music stopped, the class ended and I eventually peeled myself up from the torrent of grief. I couldn’t speak, there were no words, as we made our way outside and across the parking lot. Sure enough, that teacher was getting into that car. It felt impossible to hear my own laughter arise after that cataclysmic wave, but there I stood, chuckling anyway. 

I thought of a shirt for sale at my yoga studio that stated “i heart savasana.” I drove straight to the Yoga Lounge that afternoon just to buy it. It would serve as my reminder of that brutiful moment and connection with Kenny in savasana. I had felt him whisper through our song that he was proud of me for going to the retreat, for finding ways to survive the seemingly unsurvivable. I still have the shirt and let it bring me back to that moment, to the heart-wrenching reminder of our forever changed forever.

Wearing my special savasana shirt two years later to class at the Yoga Lounge & Barre on May 4, 2018.

“Just here for the savasana” became my motivation. I continued to return to my mat because of the sweet, gentle encouragement and support from Leba. I felt safe only in her studio and it is very unlikely I would have gone to practice anywhere else. She gave me a reason to leave my house, a safe destination, a peaceful space to move and breathe and bawl on the floor, a way to exercise some control over my experience. I arrived, hugged her, practiced in class, kept my head low on my way in and out. I didn’t want to see anyone, I didn’t want to perform small talk, I was there in pursuit of my survival alone. 

Practicing at home to get to my savasana on March 5, 2018

What I learned on my mat stayed with me in my grief and my life–I can do hard things. When it feels too difficult, I just have to remember to pause and breathe. Let it be difficult. Breathe with it. Feel it in my body. Surrender. Let it shake me and strengthen me. When I want to give up, focus on taking a deep breath. And then another. And then another. Time, somehow, passes this way and so do emotions.

Then, at the end of each practice, the glorious moment would unfold before me. After the effort comes the ease. Savasana. My release. My chance to let out all I had churned up with my mindful movement and breath. Stagnant fragments of trauma loosened and flowed out of me through my exhales, sweat and tears. This was the core reason I kept showing up on my mat, and why I still do. It wasn’t just a clever saying on my clothes, I really was there for the savasana, to create and experience the healing power of the release that comes in the stillness after the strenuous sequence of a well-taught class.

Sweet Savasana