Day 340: A Start with Leapin Leamers, A Bite at Bar Avignon, Little Notebooks & Moss Garden Incense

Friday, August 22

I got up and enjoyed a sweet but moderately nutritious bowl of gluten-free Leapin Leamers cereal. 

I had to run errands for our vineyard dinner tomorrow.  I drove over to Michael’s printing for our menus, Trader Joe’s to look at flowers (I took notes in my little writer’s note pad), Haggan (which I couldn’t find anything that would work for centerpieces), the Fred Meyer in Sherwood, which, again, didn’t have anything for my centerpieces, and finally the Fred Meyer in Newberg – where I scored these adorable and beautiful plants with tiny red, orange and green-yellow peppers.  I then found some green-white hydrangea.  I also found these beautiful green ceramic pears with silver-gray stems that would also look beautiful.

The cellar had just finished bottling for the day and were offering “first off’s” to staff, the wine they couldn’t sell that went through the bottling line first.  There was perfectly good wine inside, in any case, a few of us went down to the cellar and picked out a number of single vineyard Pinot noirs, some Syrah and Gamay noir, as well as single vineyard Chardonnay. 

When I got to the winery there was a lot of work to do.  Others were cleaning up while I washed out our hurricane lamps and staged things for my flower arranging tomorrow.

I returned to the office to check emails and then headed out to Dundee to pick up a few coolers from another winery. 

Driving home, I had every intention to change and go for a run, but Susan had called and convinced me to meet her and her mom for dinner downtown.  So, I emptied the wine from my car, put it away in my cellar under the stairs and changed for dinner.

We were going to go to Nuestra Cocina up on Division and 22^nd, but there was an hour wait. So we went across the street to a new wine bar called Bar Avignon.  It was chic and cool inside.  We took a table by the window.  Her aunt, uncle and family friend joined us.  I shared an order of luscious green olives and prosciutto and sweet peaches, then an order of gazpacho and their local farm green salad, which was really fresh and delicious.  I enjoyed a glass of Soter rosé with it.

I tried to pay for my portion, but Susan’s mom wouldn’t have it.  That was very nice of her.  I sipped on a cup of Stumptown coffee while they passed around a couple desserts.

After, Susan, her mom and I went into the frozen yogurt shop next door.  I ordered a cup of the chocolate yogurt topped with a little coconut and shared it.  We proceeded toward the New Seasons on Division, where I bought gluten-free donut holes by Ener-G, a couple more of my new favorite gluten-free pizza crusts, organic, free-range brown farm eggs, organic sausage links and these cute, small recycled notepads. 

I have become obsessed with little notepads that I carry around in my purse, leave in my car and stock in a pocket inside my workbag.  I take a little notepad everywhere I go, just in case I get an idea I need to write down.  I use the little notepads for more.  Like when I was in Trader Joe’s in Lake Oswego and needed to note which kind of flowers would work best for our vineyard dinner.  I jot down notes of things to do, people to call or meals I should make for the week.  I write down names I like that may either become characters or children.  I write down addresses and phone numbers, but, mostly, I scribble thoughts that come to me when I’m driving down 99 West or I-5 or when I’m in the middle of doing something else but don’t want to lose that train of thought, that perfect description in my head, that crazy thing that just happened as I turned that corner on 21^st  and Clinton, where the two guys on their bikes nearly hit a parked wagon with the front windows slightly open where two shiatsus practically wrestled each other to fit their sad little pink tongues through the slight open crack of window.

There was a cute, smallish guy putting his groceries down on the conveyor belt as a tall, round girl with friendly violet eyes framed in old-school black and mother-of-pearl glasses checked me out.  I handed her my check card, excited about the gluten-free donut holes.  The cute guy looked at my little notepads and said they were cool.  I told him I was a writer.  When the check-out-girl gave me my receipt, I smiled happily as the cute guy kindly offered, “good luck with the gluten-free, and the writing.”  I smiled back, “thanks!”

At home, I finished the place cards for the vineyard dinner.  I watched the last five minutes of Jaws 4 (or Jaws: The Revenge).  I had no choice.  I had watched the first three this week.  I didn’t even know there was another one after the 3-D version.  This Jaws didn’t blow up.  I was disappointed.

I burned some Moss Garden incense, not that it really smelled like moss.  It was actually a blend of sandalwood, benzoinum, patchouli and spices.  Not sure what the spices were, even with my trained wine professional’s nose.  It was Japanese.  Manufactured in Kyoto and distributed in Boulder, Colorado.  I have been slightly obsessed with Kyoto.  Not the same way as I have been about Tibet or Vietnam.  But enough so that I read a whole book on the tea service in Kyoto and the spirit of reciprocity there, how everyone is keen on gratitude, even if only in a matter of politeness and gesture.  There is what is called ‘the spirit of the gift’, to which Kyotans give little gifts to patrons who dine in their tea houses or restaurants, the gifting concept carrying over in many areas of their culture. 

Anyway.  I burned the incense to relax.  It’s a kind meditative gesture to myself, really.  I read a little and headed up for bed later than I had intended.  I made a note in one of my little notebooks that I was now going to bed rather regularly at 1:30 a.m.  It started off at 11:30 p.m.  That had been my bedtime for quite some time.  But then the late hour for me crept to midnight.  Then 12:30, always reading or writing, stretching my day as long as I could to get in all of the time I needed after work to workout, cook dinner, get some writing done, meditate and unwind, read and then turn in, which no sooner turned to 1:00 a.m.  And for the past couple of weeks, this has proceeded to dip into that too-late pool of 1:30 a.m.  I made a note that I simply could not allow this pattern to continue.  I could not let the minutes charge on to 2:00 a.m.  I had to curb the restlessness, the need for more time. 

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Day 329: Working the Wine Market in Missoula

Monday, August 11

I got a good night’s sleep.  Still, I was kind of tired.  I got out of bed at around 9:00 a.m. and returned a phone call to the sales rep I would spend the morning with going to a few wine shop and restaurant accounts.  It was a gorgeous, sunny morning.

I cleaned up, got dressed and went to the lobby to meet the sales rep.  I ordered a latte in the lobby gift shop. 

We drove first to a cool market in the likes of Portland’s New Seasons and Seattle’s PCC Markets.  It was called Good Food Store.  I really enjoyed the visit there.  I ended up buying sweetgrass incense there, as my connection to it following my visit in the Wallowas – I felt a spiritual connection to Sweetgrass, felt it would be healing and soothing for me, especially for meditation. 

Next, we went to a restaurant where I learned the owner went to high school at Lake Braddock in Burke, Virginia, graduating with Kerry!  We had a nice meeting there.  All in all, it was a good morning of visiting good accounts.  We met the other sales rep for the distributor at Finn & Porter, the really nice restaurant in hotel where I’m staying, The Doubletree.  The restaurant edged the Clark Fork River.

We all had lunch.  I ordered the scallops over arugula.  It was pretty good and guarateed gluten-free.  After lunch, I spent the afternoon with the other sales rep.  We went to several good accounts, including the Missoula Country Club, with a gorgeous golf course!  Another highlight was The Red Bird restaurant.  After a busy day, we returned to the Doubletree and met with the wine buyer there, and were later joined by another wine buyer from a downtown restaurant.  All of the accounts today really loved the wines.  It was a lot of fun to chat about Oregon and our wines.

I had an hour or so to relax, check emails and chat with my mom.  I then refreshed my make-up and walked downtown to the Red Bird Restaurant.  I sat at the wine bar and ordered a glass of Cava and a light Thai inspired small rice noodle salad.  I waited for the sales rep to meet me at his account for dinner.  There was a great older gentleman playing the guitar and singing old cowboy songs.  I  was loving Missoula!

When the sales rep arrived, we ordered a bottle of sparkling water, beef satay and the lettuce wraps, guaranteed gluten free.  We then ordered a bottle of Problem Child Rhone blend.  I ordered the grilled lamb kebabs with a lavender mustard.  For dessert, I had the creme brulee and a cup of decaf cappucino.

After we ate, a funny character of a man, who was drunk, over-poured his Belgian Ale, with thick head foaming all over, and he started coming over to tell us really bad jokes.  He looked like a cross between French actor Gerard Depardieu and Thomas Hayden Church.  This guy wore a crazy shirt and just kept coming over.  More bad jokes.  Mostly about nuns, actually.  He was happily digging the music, singing along, yelling out “yeah!” or “that’s it”, answering the singer as if he were being personally addressed.  It was classic wild west.

I happily walked back to the hotel.  I packed up my stuff and braced myself while I called for the 5:15 a.m. wake up call.

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Day 163: When Electronics Don’t Work…

Tuesday, February 26
8:50 p.m.

I decided to write earlier than usual tonight because I couldn’t find my charger for my home laptop.  So, I pulled out my work laptop, but I had left the power chord at work.  So, this was going to have to be fast while the life of my computer was still relatively viable.

So, ever since I created a profile in Facebook I have reconnected with many people from my past – high school, college and my early post-college years.  Che fico!  That’s how the young Italian hipsters say that’s cool.  Anyway, I have received a lot of great messages from my old friends, and I can’t respond quick enough because between going to work, working out, cooking dinner, stretching, meditating, then working on my writing, working on this blog, and getting in at least an hour of reading, well, I’m pressed for time.  In particular, a former classmate of mine has been sending me encouraging, thoughtful and auspicious emails about my writing all the way from India.  Now that’s cool.  So Nick, when you finally get to this page, here’s my public acknowledgement (and gratitude) for your kind emails! 

I am considering a lot of next steps for my quest to get my book published.  And I have been excited about one particular idea that, ironically, was also suggested by friend, Nick.  I won’t disclose that idea in this blog just yet.  I will write about it after the fact and create a link to the finished product.  So stay tuned. 

I should mention that I put in my 15 minutes of meditation this morning.  It was good.  Real good.  I was focused and clear, I think I’m getting the hang of this kind of meditating.  No music, no distractions, but I am still using the incense.  This morning I kept my gaze downward, per Rinpoche’s advising.  I’ve been looking forward to my 15 minutes this evening.  I’m a quarter of the way toward my goal, with no real rush to get there.  I’ll get there. 

I got in 150 crunches this evening and did some weight training.  I’m going to get back to practicing yoga.   I miss doing my Rodney Yee DVD yoga sessions.  First of all, I have a mad crush on him.  His Yoga Burn rocked my world.  But I can’t get my DVD player to work.  Come to mention it, my stereo system doesn’t work, either - there seems to be something wrong with the CD stack, as the system simply won’t read my CDs (yes, I tried cleaning it!).  And, to make audio matters worse, the CD player in my car isn’t working.  Now, the latter two are not old by any means.  Brand new, even.  This is when I wish I had a man in my life (they’re the utility workers in our lives – I mean the knights on white stallions…). 

I simply can’t figure this stuff out.  And I’m a competent woman.  I even read the directions.  Still, I just don’t get it.  I’m not one to tinker around with electronic stuff, so, I’m really going nowhere with this.  A delimma, but not at all the end of the world.  

But, to backtrack a little, the DVD player worked when the cable guy hooked it up at my old cottage, when I paid for the mother load cable option.   I only have the basic channels now, which didn’t require a cable guy to come in and hook it up.   So I was left to figure out this anomaly myself.  I hooked everything up following the instruction manual.  Still, nothing. 

As for the CD player in my car, I will ask the Hyundai service dudes to check it out when I go in for my next oil change.  It stopped working after I had work done on it at a collison center my insurance company sent me to after my parked car was hit and the front bumper dropped (it was a hit in run in Portland).  In any case, when I picked up my repaired car, after returning from holiday travel, I couldn’t even get the CDs into the slot in my dashboard.  Something is very wrong.   I probably should have brought the car right back to the collision center as soon as the CD failed to insert.  Two months later, well, it’s too late.

As for the stereo at home, well, it’s still packed up in its original box and stored under my stairs.  Meantime, I have been listening to my old ‘box’.  It’s pretty lame and nearly broken, but it works.  I will either try to get the stereo fixed or get rid of it and eventually get a new one.   Hopefully then all of my electronics woes will be resolved. 

A deep breath, a shrug and on to my day’s end meditation session.  Yup, still fifteen minutes.

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Day 161: The Continued Dialog of the Path to Enlightenment

Sunday, February 24
9:19 p.m.

To summarize the weekend, I only need to began with the Tibetan Buddhism talk I attended on Friday night, setting the tone for a very deep weekend, to say the least.  So, yesterday I participated in a half day of a workshop that continued the dialog that begun on Friday, followed by a lively and enjoyable dinner with the visiting Rinpoche.  I only learned of the weekend retreat on Friday, and so I couldn’t make the time for the full 2-day (4 parts) sessions, so I was content with getting in at least one session. 

I realized I wrote freely about the Rinpoche who led the Tibetan Buddhism talks here in Portland this weekend, and I neglected to define what a Rinpoche is, asserting that most readers are not necessarily plugged in.  Rinpoche literally translates to “precious one”.  It’s a title honoring incarnate lamas and eminent spiritual teachers, and is used at the end of the teacher’s name.   The Rinpoche is considered a reincarnate of a great teacher.

So, I am in my infant stages of understanding Tibetan Buddhism, and I’m not altogether sure what’s drawing me in to it.  I thought, very briefly, that perhaps I would have a calling to become a Pema, or a nun.  Which, I know is not my dharma, or path to enlightenment.  I then thought perhaps I would end up adopting a daughter from Tibet – I have this intense pull to go there.  I don’t know why.  I have never been one to seek things out – love, religion – to make myself feel whole, complete or happy.  I have been one of the lucky ones who happens to simply find happiness from within.  I am content with my faith as a Catholic.  I do admit there are things that I don’t agree with the Catholic Church, when it comes to the order and politics of the Church, but I like ritual, I like the ceremony, and I feel really good after attending an uplifting Mass.

I am not a theologian so I will not even begin to try to speak or, in this case, write as an expert on religion.  I am a humble, spiritual human being trying to feel closer to God, trying to find enlightenment, contentment, and compassion.  My work here on earth is to understand my gifts and how I am to use them to help make this world a better place.  That’s really what we must all do, but, unfortunately, most will not take the time to search for their purpose.  Western culture, especially American, more or less puts people in social paths already formed and people seem to just go along with this – whether it’s in following corporate America, traditional occupations, and traditional roles.  I’m not knocking these roles.  But, I wonder how different the world would be if we didn’t all succumb to what’s expected of us and, instead, meditate and pray to find out what our purspose is.  Acting out the many roles we have as human beings is not the same thing as finding our primary purpose in life.  For example, I could attain the roles of wife, mother, girl scout troop leader, Sunday school teacher, and so on.  But my purpose is something altoghter different.  It is sacred.  It has everything to do with my very specific God-given talents, understanding that God created me as a unique, special human being, with the intention for me to use those unique, special gifts and talents to make the world a better place.  We all have the capacity to do this because we were all born with specific gifts and talents that God wants us to use.  And this isn’t a religion-specific notion. 

Anyway, so much of my time is spent contemplating, pondering, praying, meditating – and really, I learned my purpose a long time ago.  Which is the good news!  That’s cracking half the code.  Now, I must figure out the path I am to take toward being useful, toward making a difference.  Clearly, I am searching for ways to make my writing tangible, uplifting, and useful.  I hope that others read what I write and feel something – moreso, I hope that what I write can help people and bring positive energy, positive thought and, as a result, positive action in others’ lives – that it regenerates positive energy, that it continues to promote peace, enlightenment and compassion, constantly paying it forward.

I think Tibetan Buddhism practice is helping me to realize my purpose and find ways to best express myself, understand what it is I am to share with others, and truly live and share a compassionate, peaceful, enlightened life.  That sounds all lovely, but it is hard work.

At the moment, I am making connections with my religious faith, Catholocism, and my spiritual path toward dharma, and I really feel like there’s a golden confluence of Catholocism and Tibetan Buddhism, or simply Buddhism, in a spiritual sense.  For one, by observing practices, both faiths share a common use of incense; candles; malas (prayer beads used in meditation and prayer in Buddhism) and rosary beads (prayer beads used in Catholic devotions); mystics; ritual and ceremony.  Both religions have a hierarchical system of spiritual orders (monks/priests/nuns).  More often, Catholicism is related to Zen Buddhism, but more and more Tibetan Buddhism is compared.  This makes me think of trappist monks…

Anway, the topic has been addressed, see Zen Buddhism & Catholocism by Anthony E. Clark and Carl E. Olson.

I learned that Ippolito Desideri was a pioneer in the Tibetan Buddhism-Christian dialog back in the 1700′s.  Desideri was an Italian Jesuit priest and a scholar of the Tibetan language and missionary.   So Catholics and Tibetan Buddhists had been engaged in philosophical and theological conversations since the 18th Century.

I am curious if it’s possible to be both a devout Catholic and a Tibetan Buddhist?  Is religion so closed and tightly administered that there’s no possibility to open one’s heart, mind and soul beyond one thought?  Here is my conundrum.  I love being Catholic.  I love my faith.  I don’t want to feel like I’m betraying it or turning my back on Christ and, my favorite, the Madonna, by learning new concepts that are actually helping me to feel closer to God, to humanity.  I don’t see how this could possibly be a bad thing.  I didn’t address it with Rinpoche on Saturday evening, though I wanted to.  It didn’t seem appropriate for me to take up his time with my personal questions.  And, equally, I’d love to chat with my cousin Vincent, a Dominican priest in New York City.  I really want to understand how these two theologies and practices can co-exist in my life without me feeling like I have to drop one for the other. 

Either way, I am on to some great revelation, some greater understanding of why I am here and how I will be able to be more useful.  I am content with that, I feel light in knowing things will all just work out. 

I considered my brief conversation with Rinpoche at dinner last night.  I was curious about the role of Pema (Buddhist nun) and I had been reading a bit of Pema Chodron’s writings.  Because I am a writer, I thought maybe there’s a calling here that I am to find (plus, as I’m getting older, I’m not so sure the role of wife is in the cards, I’m not convinced I want to be a wife, so could that mean nun??).  He shook his head in opposition.  He flat out said, no.  So that was that.  And he explained in his broken English that I first needed to learn how to meditate, that it takes great discipline to get into the practice of meditating 2 hours in the morning, 2 hours at night.  Which, is true.  It’s still a challenge for me to get through 15 minutes!  And this isn’t just close your eyes and relax meditation – this is complete blank, empty space – no thoughts, no voices in your head, no distraction – just blank.  Not easy.  He was blunt, he said it wasn’t my path.  If any one would know if being a Pema is on my path, this man would know – he’s a reincarnate!  But he said he’d be happy to talk to me and help me find my way to learning, understanding and practicing tantra to get to a place of enlightenment, compassion and peace.

Clearly, I’m not there yet.  But, I think I’m on the right path… 

So, rather than go to the second day of Tibetan Buddhism teachings today, I went to my steady 11:00 Mass at St. Mary’s Cathedral.  The Mass was about water and how important it is to Catholics, symbollic in baptism, holy water used in service and in a basin at the entrance of the church (for parishoners to dip into when giving the sign of the cross upon entering and exiting the church).  The priest’s word reminded me of Buddhist teachings on nature.  I closed my eyes during the many choruses gloriously sang by the choir and meditated.  I looked at the beautiful stained glass windows while listening to the priest teach the parish to love one another, to live in peace.  And while I was beginning to feel good about my faith again, it was time for communion.  And I was disconnected once again. 

About a month ago the priest there told me that I could not receive a gluten-free host at this church because it was their belief that there has to be some leavened wheat.  I was denied the opportunity to practice the most sacred part of Mass – receiving communion, the symbollic body of Christ.  It was like being excommunicated.  Rules, rules, rules!  As if God would deny his people, those of us with Celiac disease, a condition with no cure but to follow a strict, challenging gluten-free diet.  I am saddened and discouraged by this parish’s neglect of a growing population of Catholics.  It is as if we are not welcome to share in this symbollic ritual; but, we are welcome to suffer through the toxic ingestion of a regular host, or we can sip from the chalice of wine which, upon lip after lip of neighbors with who-knows-what kind of germs they’re leaving on the rim, could possibly make me sick anyway.  Celiac is an autoimmune disease, so I am avoiding anything that might compromise my health.

We have such a long way to go with food allergy education.  The church cannot allow this discrimination.  This could possibly be the final straw that makes me turn my back on the Catholic Church.  And here I made a capital campaign pledge of $100 to the Archdiocese of Portland – the same Archdiocese that’s denying my participation in the sacrament of Holy Communion.  I may have to write a letter…

So, tonight before I went to bed I burned some sandalwood incense, I turned down the lights, I lit four or five candles, I pulled out my Zafu meditation pillow and I meditated for fifteen minutes without a thought in my head, without voices, without lists of things to do, just a blank space.  And it felt good.

Happy 40th Birthday to my big brother Mikey!  Peace, love and light to you today and always…

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