Recipes for Life

My dear friend Maria Pia passed away this year of cancer. She is a most beautiful woman/soul who lives eternally not only with God, but through amazing wisdom and love she shared. She reminded me of the importance of the simple life: family, faith, stories, home, food and dance. Not only did she share delicious food from her kitchen, but she taught me how she made a few of them. Just like her wisdom they are simply delicious! All recipes are approximate measures as they were in Maria Pia's kitchen, recipes are woven narratives within the story of life...

SEASONAL FRIED VEGETABLES
Veggies in Season (a little goes a long way): zucchini, onions, mushrooms, etc.
1/2-1 cup Sparkling unflavored water, very cold
1-3 cups flour
salt to taste
sunflower oil
I like to use a mix of veggies here, but note that one zucchini, 1/2 an onion, a handful of mushrooms and one previously roasted red pepper will feel a family. Slice zuch & onion into 1/4" thick rings, mushrooms if small use whole, slice peppers into strips feel free to get creative with other veggies, the ones shown are autumn veggies. Heat about 1/2" of oil at medium-high in the bottom of a heavy skillet. Make a thick batter of the flour, sparkling water and salt and dip veggies into batter and directly into heated skillet, flip once when golden and place on paper to drain oil.
My kids and their friends were amazed how easy it was to make their favorite appetizer fare for low cost!!!

THE UNIVERSAL ZUCCHINI
Zucchini
Onion
Olive Oil
Salt
Pepper
Slice zucchini extra thin, I use 3 average grocery sized per medium onion. Dice onion in 1/4"ish and saute slowly in olive oil seasoning to taste with salt and pepper until onions are beautifully caramelized and zucchini transparent as stained glass. This delightfully simple cooked treat can be used as a side dish with meat OR as a topping for pizza OR on top of your favorite pasta. A quick way of making this into pizza is to buy foccaccia bread and simply top and reheat.

SIMPLE SAUCE
4 Italian Sausages *go for quality of flavor
3# ripe tomatoes
1 finely diced onion
2T olive oil
salt & pepper to taste
Place ripe tomatoes in a large bowl and cover in boiling water for a bit until skins break and they are easy to peel. While they are waiting in bowl, dice onion and start slowly sauteing over medium low heat in a largish pot. Add peeled tomatoes and Italian Sausage, let them all simmer for 1-2 hours, pull the sausage for a side dish, or dice and return to the pot for a meat sauce, season after tasting (the seasoning of the sausage has now infused your sauce amazingly!). Use this sauce to top polenta (simply boil corn meal until soft in salted water), gnocchi (recipe below) or favorite pasta. Many of the ladies would use this sauce over thick slices of hearty bread as a great use of left-over sauce!

GNOCCHI (this one from friend Maria A.)
2 large well boiled potatoes
2-4 cups flour
salt to taste
Bail the potatoes whole until their skin breaks and they are very soft, Maria says boiling with skin gives them the best flavor. If you have marble counter tops or work board just use this work space, no need for bowls. Peel the potato when just as cool as you can stand and it mashes easily between your fingers. Work the potatoes until smooth then add flour while continuing to work the potatoes until you have a nice firm dough. Roll out the dough on floured surface and cut into 1/3-1/2 inch squares. Put the cut squares into a bowl with some flour at the bottom and gently toss until they are lightly covered and not sticking to one another. Drop into pot of salted water and you have gourmet gnocchi ready and floating to the top in less than 4 minutes!

Muse, Musing, Amuse, Museum and Bemused

In the past year I have had the pleasure of starting studies with my friends Elisa & Eva. They studied English with me while I study Italian with them. They say the best way to learn is to teach, so this is a very fine exchange. We started simply with words that are often spelled the same way in both languages, the pronunciation is usually different, and sometimes the meanings as well. As we were beginning our first “lessons” I was realizing how many words in English could be changed with just a letter or two for a different meaning, with the same root, on one hand confusing when it didn’t translate well in Italian, on the other rather poetic when thinking about the beauty of wordplay.

One root that stuck out to me was muse, which has the same meaning in Italian, and has its root in the Muses, the nine (9) daughters of Greek gods (either Zeus and Mnemosyne or Uranus and Gaia), who are themselves goddesses of literature and art. A muse is someone or something that inspires a person to bring forth their creativity and their art. Now add some wordplay …. There are several people here in Piegaro who amuse me to no end with their humor, antics and welcoming spirits. And there are a few people who seem quite bemused by me, this odd creature from another country with different ways, often different even than the tourists who arrive. Finally the town has its own museum of glass, which follows the history of this art and now very practical craft, back though its beginning in the 13th century. It is a beautiful presentation of the art and culture of this sweet community.

Piegaro, my home village here in Italy is most definitely my favorite muse each day, as I can find something new to see, hear, photograph and write about. Even the days I don’t write, I have a divine inspiration from this place God has brought me to. As a spiritual director, it gets me to musing (thinking, hopefully creatively) about how the Spirit is flowing through this beautiful place, through me. As I have mused on my muse it has been so very easy to romanticize this beautiful village, so see only her sweet simplicity among the soft rolling hills, to experience the sacred moments walked out through her streets in processions, and prayed through on bent knees in chapel, and two beautiful churches. There is so much beauty to find in the art and flowers with which the villagers adorn their homes, to the visible signs of the sacred they tuck away as well within the walls of the town. That is always the sweetness of a muse, it brings forth its beauty to an awaiting artist or soul looking to see the creative wonderment to be found.

To be amused is something spectacularly different in that it is a reaction to something creatively wonderful, usually humorous or enchanting. When we meet someone who is naturally witty we get to behold a different type of beauty that inspires our creative senses. I have a friend here who actually climbed outside my apartment building from the 2nd floor attic of my neighbor to my rooftop terrace (4th floor) when I locked my keys inside and as he handed me the keys, he laughed as he said “Spiderman to the rescue.” He is quick with a fun quip, so amusing at a time when I was feeling particularly foolish. Or the subtle words of another neighbor the morning after I climbed through a 1st floor window when locking my keys in my new ground floor apartment “You can give me a your key because I keep the keys to many houses here in Piegaro.” A kind, yet obvious way of saying someone saw my silly butt hanging out the window again. How each person reacts to my personal problem of constantly forgetting keys is always so amusing and funny, and carries away my embarrassment for it is sheer beauty, an art!

Of course, this is a nice reaction to my constant crazy ways: folks are generous enough to be bemused, rather than annoyed by me. Oh yes, there have been a couple of folks who were visibly put off by my antics, but there is simply a freshness in those who choose to look at little misfortunes, accidents and foibles in life with bemusement that warms the heart. It is the gift of taking things lightly, which is so important in a world with serious problems which pull at our emotions. It is the fine art putting things into perspective as joyously as possible.

Rounding things out, it is easy to see how all these things artfully come from the root of muse, but the obvious museum, the museum of glass often plays the muse in unique ways. First of all, kudos to the borgo and all who brought about the museum’s founding and its fine curator Chiara who magically bring forth the artist in all who enter. The Museo del Vetro, Museum of Glass, not only has a wonderful well-thought presentation of over 700 years of glassmaking, but they inspire new artists with demonstrations, classes, concerts, meals, markets, and more. This year’s glass festival, Days of Glass, had over 10 artists at work creating their glass art from stained glass, to etching, to blowing, and more. Folks eagerly watched the artists in their creative process, but they too were given an opportunity to be the artists, as they challenged the onlookers to take photos, from their perspectives of the creation of art. Frequently there are classes in various art forms utilizing glass. This year alone I have weaved the straw fiaschi around glass bottles, etched glass, made jewelry, and created an “infiorata”: flowers framed under glass, and I even missed many more classes offered. The classes amused me, bemused me for ways to get out of creative messes, were muses for writing and gave me a wonderful sense of the beauty of the history and important place of glass in this community. Total beauty!

A Glass Town

Most towns in Italy have thier specialty craft, and Piegaro is a glass town.  When you enter the first piazza, there in the center are lovely scultures of a man blowing glass, with a woman and girl weaving fiaschi, the familiar basketry of chianti bottles.  The current glass factory is huge, and puts out over a million bottles a day.  When you are in any part of the world and order a beverage from the Martini company, it will be in a Piegaro bottle, likewise when you enjoy a refreshing bottle of San Peligrino water it is from this sweet village.  The sculptures welcome people to the village with a sense of history and place, glass is their identity.

The Museo del Vetro is amazing, it is in the second glass factory and has everything from models of the factory, to examples of the glass that has been produced in the village over the last 7+ centuries.  It also tells the unique history of this glass village through its craft.  Where I sit to write is in the oldest glass factory, now a residence villa, appropriately named L Antica Vetreria between the two they encircled the village for hundreds of years, providing a place of work for men, women and children alike.  The first glass makers were brought to Piegaro under the cloak of darkness from the Maurano glass works of Venice.  But unlike Maurano, the makers here in Piegaro specialized in bottles, bottiglia, which identifies the nature of the town, and its spirit.

This is not the town of artistic glass sculptures, but rather a partner in the local trade of wine, a very practical industry, and yet....the bottle styles were beautiful, and the woven fiasci simply lovely.  Even though this is "common" work, it has been done with grace and skill with loving craftsmanship.  It speaks much of the heart of the people I have met here, very earthy people with creative souls that sing and dance.

The greatest heartbreak of Piegaro in recent history was World War II and the time leading up to it.  As one friend here told the story, first the fascists came and closed down the l' antica vetreria, and then the Naziss invaded.  As the war ended the Nazis blew up the town hall and left the community in ruins.  Yet the soul of the people maintained, the townsfolk worked the smaller glass factory until the early 1960's when the newest glass factory was built to provide the needs for the region.  It is hard to imagine that the town was nearly 20 years just one small glass factory, I can only imagine the struggle.

Today I have a wonderful friend, Maria, who worked in the newer - old factory as a child and still occasionally teaches fiaschi weaving.  She has gifted me with the beautiful work of her hands, and it makes me happy to have such a piece of fine workmanship, a loving craft, a symbol for a community that has survived in the hardest of times to return to its heritage.

Next week a new business opens in town, the Bar-Pub Botteglia the owners recognize the importance of Piegaro, its rich heritage and what has been such a part of the people.  It is good to know history and the story of the people, for in these stories lie the soul of a community.  To embrace a community when you visit is to move beyond tourist, to move into sharing heart, and to seek to know where our common story is as humans...and that is what moves hearts!

Waking up to Frost

It is a beautiful sunrise here in Piegaro, the sun glowing pink on the hills across the valley. 
This means it is time to really get up, really get going.
A time to walk and enjoy the beauty of the day, each day is a gift just waiting to be opened.
Time to push away from machines, from mirrors and venture out.

Time for another adventure in life, another day of living, another day of being.
Time to hear new voices, learn new words, ask new questions.
A day to ponder, wonder and drink in all the possibilities of a day met with glorious sunshine,

which also hides a bitter cold, a cutting cold, and reminds one that each day has glory and chill.

What does today hold?  What can be known?

Only that which we expose ourselves to when walking outside the walls.

To move into the sunshine on the hillsides, to cut the glare, yet absorb the heat.
To find that which will warm our soul, while being present to the truth of the chill.

Poetry in Motion

A favorite place I found where the little road became a winding stair with amazing arches

One of my favorite forms of literature is poetry, savoring its gentle rhythms naturally seems to slowly ease one into a depth of meaning far deeper than the common sentence structure can allow.  From children's whimsical poetry to epic poems that tell grandiose stories, to romance and prophetic poems, all awaken someplace special in my soul.  In September we will worship utilizing biblical poetry drenched with meaning, from Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs and the prophets.  Thus the mind spins of poetry, poetic thoughts and poetic places.
On my trip to Italy I had one place I wanted to see almost more than any other, the town of Todi, where the poet Jacopone da Todi hailed from.  Jacopone was a Franciscan who did his best to live into St. Francis' ascetic ways, but was deeply troubled by the transition of the Franciscan Order after the master's death into a more worldly way of being.  However, given his openness of faith, Jacopone requested from the pope that there be (2) Franciscan orders instead of the one, with one being more dedicated to the Rule of St. Francis and one being the more modern/worldly one that had evolved in the decades since Francis' passing.  The pope refused, and Jacopone, not only a good monk, but also a good poet responded in poetic form...whereby he was promptly excommunicated from the church.    It is fun to root for the rebel, and rather romantic to admire the rebel poet, and when in Italy that seemed so appropriate...
With great curiosity I planned for my trip to Todi, requesting the most scenic driving directions from my friend Martin, and immediately insulting him by asking to travel a different way than he suggested.  But being a gentleman he gave me alternative directions and advised I watch for town signs (not as easy as it may seem).  Off I ventured on the rainy day toward a town I would find buried in clouds perched high on top of a hill, out of view from the valley below.  One of the things I noted while in Italy was how unique each hilltop village was, for their unity of form, their function and details were characterized differently through architecture and building materials.  Todi seemed so ripe for being the birthplace of a poet and man of faith.
Of the many villages I visited Todi had the most uniquely tiny roads and walkways.  I even heard one American tourist say, "whar's Louise? She must be takin' more pictures of the damn alleys."  I felt that poor man saw no beauty where Louise and I found mesmerizing entryways to the beautiful unknown... winding walkways that led to conversations with a sweet man walking his dog, finding hidden chapels and museums holding a depth of meaning.  And views, views that once the clouds flew away bespoke of the beauty of the Tiber river valley that my friend Martin had suggested I drive (I would return home that way).  It was an enchanting little village with art, sacred and mystery around every little corner, a perfect place for poetry of the every spinning heart and imagination to take place.
To create art must be aware of beauty, mystery and that which is greater than oneself, Todi is a perfect setting for all this, from natural beauty to the archetecture that invites the mind to wander as the feet must to get from one place to another through many entrances, archways, vistas and people living so densly they must be in fullness of relationship to survive.
Todi inivted me to contemplate how to open up to see the sacred in surprising ways, to live looking for whatever was around the next corner or through the next passageway.  It is an invitation to the intimate, who is going to be around the next corner?  What is going to appear down the narrow street/passage to the left, so the right?  Will it be a musty chapel with sweet art, a river valley opening up in grandure before you as the clouds part, or a puppy jumping all over and licking your face?  How to revel in the joy of the moment of sweet surprise, moments of grace and beauty is our call, to be awed by the wonder of God's creation and translate the beauty for others.  Jacopone da Todi did this so well, expressing in his poetry his awakening to the love of God.  How can we share the awesome wonder, the invitation to all???

The cute puppy greeted me with kisses, and his owner kind words as I roamed the wet and beautiful streets of Todi

Love, infusing with light all who share Your splendor (from In Praise of Divine Love)
Love, infusing with light all who share Your splendor,
You teach us the true light
Is not to be found in the light of this world.
Light that enlightens, light that teaches,
He who is not illumined by You
Does not reach the fullness of love.
Love, You give light
To the intellect in darkness
And illumine the Object of love.
Love, Your ardor,
Which enflames the heart,
Unites it with the Incarnate One.

Depth of Meaning

Remembering Baptism, Summer Solstice, God's Grace

One of the things I discovered in Italy was an awareness of my personal depth of meaning.  I understood all the things that make my heart sing; visible signs of the sacred, the importance of sacrament, the beauty of relationships that are lived so openly and in the fullness of  the connection of community.  Sometimes we lose site of what makes our hearts sing, we get caught up in the "normal," the everyday, and the mundane of multi-tasking and rushing through work, home and life.
It has given me great inspiration on how to live my life with more meaning, no matter where I am, how to appreciate all my neighbors, to explore for all signs of the sacred, and to find new rituals to enrich my life.  In June I celebrated with Acqua di San Giovanni - a beautiful ritual where I walked the neighborhood and picked aromatic flowers and greens, soaked them in a tub overnight, so they could collect the dew of morning and bathed with their essence in the early morning.  It was refreshing to be present to the elements of the season, to live in the moment of time when all life is in bloom and full fragrance.
I will never recapture completely what bloomed forth at that particular time in Italy, but....but, I can know the depth of meaning, and I can know that I will return and something sacred will happen then when immersed in a place where all that I hold sacred is embodied in a culture, place, faith and most wonderfully people who inspire me to be live this one gracious life most fully.
There are ways we allow ourselves to awaken to the sacred, to know how God is truly calling us.  To open our hearts fully and listen to what is most important to us in our living out our true selves.  I have so many more wonderful stories to tell of my time in Italy, and how my life has been transformed through the reveling of God through this wonderful place, and then, there is next year.....
If you are interested in a Transformational Spirituality Retreat in Umbria please contact us:  umbrianspirit@hotmail.com

The Sacred is Always Near

Life in View of the Village Tower

The tower stands boldy at the center of the village, welcoming the community home.

There is a quote/saying that a friend tripped about trying to explain to me of the importance of living life within the sounds/site of the village tower in Umbria, Italy.  Explaining that there is a depth of meaning to living one's life being able to hear the sounds of the tower bell, and to view the clock - to be connected to the heart of town.  This actually does sound incredibly wonderful, to have such a connection to place and the people that share that place with you.
Myself, I have lived in over 30 houses/apartments/dwelling places in my life, moving from place to place with some amazing well honed packing skills.  At a certain point in my life I felt I wast forever seeking "home" and at a certain point I figured there may not be such a place for me.  But the sweetness of the concept has never left the back of my mind, and the thought of their being a very strong cultural saying regarding the importance of the tower certainly struck me.
It was fun hearing the saying long after I returned from my journey, for my companion had no idea that I had taken so many photos of the various towers in the various towns we passed through.  But when the concept of tower came up, it led me to ideas for two very different types of postings, this one on the importance of community, and a second to follow on the uniqueness of communities in Umbria, a geographically small area.
In Piegaro my heart was really stirred by the importance of the tower my last night there, Wednesday evening.  As we had gone back to the apartment to settle in for the evening I received a call from a congregation member in need of a listening ear, and so decided to step out for some privacy and just walk the streets while in conversation.  It was a beautiful night after a day of thunderstorms, lightening and rain that had kept many of us indoors and having fun at the caffe during the day.  The air was fresh with the moisture of the day, yet warm and comfortable, it felt good to walk and talk around the old part of the village, circling around even to some little streets I hadn't been on before.  I was very aware of the tower and it's clock listening to the chimes on the half hours and seeming to keep me company on a quiet night.  The people in the village had all gone in by this time and I could hear from the homes of the village the sounds of t.v. and conversations, all winding down at the end of their day.
When I returned to the apartment, it was my friend's turn to be on a personal call, so I went out again, circling the town, slowly walking the streets.  I took a few photos of some of the art that graced the exterior of some of the walls, and would look up when the clock struck an hour or half past again.  I would peek in occasionally to find my friend still being the long-distance love and caring for family from half a world away, and I kept walking.  Piegaro is a small town, so I walked many of the streets over and over multiple times, wondering who liked the drama, comedy or action that I could hear on the t.v.s - I was already missing this place so much and yet I could hear and feel the life that was being lived, and I could see and hear the clock in the tower.  Time moved so gracefully for moving so rapidly, I know I checked in repeatedly at the apartment and was out for a couple of hours, yet it was so soothing, I walked past the tower many times.
The tower, the last thing I could see of the town when we drove toward Rome the following day, the first thing I saw when we approached Piegaro just a few weeks before.  I remember wondering if the sweet bells that called us to worship came from the tower rather than the church that sat beside it, and now know that I forgot to ask.  The tower that when we were in town always reminded me of the time so there was no need to keep track on my own.  A beautiful thing the tower.
In our own neighborhood in Seattle our church tower has a bell, but due to neighbor's concerns it only rings on Sundays, just before worship.  From the inside of the church one can't hear it at all.  The other bells I hear are from the school informing the children when it is time to begin and end the day, and when to go in or out for recess.  Last week after hearing the lovely phrase about the tower the bells of the school went off for an emergency drill.  As I listened to the mournful cry of the emergency siren, not really a bell this time, I thought to myself, "now is just a test of the emergency system, or the real thing, is there an emergency?"  So, I prayed, I prayed that there was no emergency, but if there was, than it was a good time to give thanks for my incredible life, a gift from God, for all the blessings, adventures and magic along the way, and I thought of the tower.
What would it be like to live, live a life always within the sight and sound of an ever-present tower over the community?

A fun shot of Colleen searching for me the day we lost each other after the Processione, what a good place to find someone!

The community gathered in front of the church, next to the tower to begin the Processione di Miracole.