month of beauty: eating well

I remember days, when my son was five and my girl was two, and I was tired. I remember days picking him up from school and—knowing my husband would be out 'til late teaching—I'd think, "I'll take it easy tonight; we'll have a treat; this will be fun," and off we'd go for a Happy Meal. One cheeseburger with fries and an orange juice. The kids would love their toys and the Special Treat.

Win Win, I thought.

There were more nights like that than I want to admit! Sometimes dinner felt like a mountain. Like a really big mountain with stairs at the top, and then maybe a fence to climb and a guestbook to sign in and a secret password you had to guess before you could even glimpse the peak. What parent hasn't ached some nights for an easy meal?

Now, I suppose I've picked a whole new mountain, because being Vegan and Wheat Free has sometimes felt kind of enormous. It sure felt gigantic when we started. First there was the getting over dairy. What a long love affair that had been (over 40 years for the grown-ups). Oh, the days of pining that followed, the longing looks, the sad love letters! Worse than Romeo and Juliet!

The detox lasted about a week, and then we were fine. But then there was the "Whatever Will We Eat Now?" stage and the "Can A Person Really Survive on Beans (and Lentils and Nuts and Grains and Vegetables and Fruit) Alone?" thoughts. In those first weeks and months I poured over cook books, health books, the internet. Each meal needed to have protein, plus iron and zinc and calcium, Etcetera. I had to make sure there was vitamin C to help absorb the iron and we needed to have our B12 supplements and I wanted the meals to be tasty, so that we wouldn't be miserable. Big deep breaths! Such a big mountain!

But then… it suddenly wasn't so big. Because I discovered some really yummy recipes. I learned there is literally protein in every single grain, bean, nut, lentil, vegetable and piece of fruit you eat (I had no idea). Once you find meals you love, you can make them in a flash.

And trying new things is actually fun, because they are usually insanely scrumptious. And because we are so committed to this choice, the hardest days (when we've forgotten to go shopping! and er, there's a single limp carrot in the fridge and some old mushrooms and only two cans of beans and half a bag of pasta!) are just that—days. And I have learned that eating a plant-based diet is not just a really kind thing to do for animals, but also incredibly, incredibly, good for you.

Do we have easy meals now? Do we ever have take out? Yes, and yes. Easy comes when I've made such a big pot of lentil bolognese that we can use it three days later for a quick pasta meal. Easy is when there's lots of bean mix from the nachos dinner, and I can pop it on rice the next day for lunch, with slices of avocado on top. Easy is snacks of fruit and carrots with hummus and peanut butter on rice cakes and smoothies with mango. Easy, is going to the local Thai restaurant and asking for Pad Thai with no egg and tofu instead. They know us now and cook everything with vege stock.

Easy, is sitting down to a meal and knowing that every bite will be a good one. We are eating so, so well. It feels all kinds of Beautiful.

5 senses

Things I happened to…

See.

We watched a movie last night. We hardly ever watch movies and we never watch tv. When I say never, I really mean never! The tvs all went to digital this month in Australia. We'd been thinking we needed to get a set-top box to convert our old analog images (little people walking along that high wire, all the way to our house! Where they would put up their little sets and move about inside our box, just for us. We always felt so special), into digital (all those people shrinking, turning into ones and zeros, all saying, 'But wait…wait…'), but we never did.

We never bought the box, much less a new television. Ours is over 10 years old. It's a fossil. Where's it supposed to go now? Is there a play park for defunct things, things like walkmans and the egg beaters you whirr by hand? I imagine our tv shyly entering… 'Hello?' it calls. The other tvs wave shyly back. There's a special corner for them, I imagine. Somewhere they plug themselves in…and in the crackle of nothing, there are the ghosts of the people who used to live there, moving about silently inside. 

We watched a dvd on our new computer. Why? It seemed easier, in the moment, to do it that way. And this is how you make these huge changes in your life. One moment you're in your old life, and then, just like a train being rerouted, a click shifts the tracks, and you head into the new. At some point, maybe years later, you go, "Remember when? When we used to watch tvs, when we listened to CDs, when we warmed up food on the stove, when we washed dishes by hand, when all we had were rocks to make fire and the wolves howled outside?"

It was a movie called Moon, a sci-fi film with Sam Rockwell. I'm not a sci-fi sort of person. I'm not a scary/spooky movie person either. I don't like to be shocked or overly nervous. But I'd heard this movie was great, and I'm a Sam Rockwell fan. It was worth it. It was unnerving in this delicious way, listening to the spooky music, knowing (sort of) and not knowing what's going to happen. There's a man, Sam, who is stuck alone on the dark side of the moon (or IS he? Oooh.). There's the grey of the moonscape and the trundling of the moon rover and the visions Sam starts to have… and then it gets kind of surreal. And kind of sad and kind of beautiful too. I totally went with it—I got hooked. I'm very glad I did.

We stayed up too late watching, of course.

One day, maybe we'll look back and say, "Remember? When we stayed up too late, watching Moon? And we didn't care because then we went to bed and whispered to each other as the children slept, as the night crawled into morning? And the last thing we said before sleep was, 'I love you.' Remember?"

Hear.

I just found a new band. Oh, they are lovely. They make you bounce. They lift you and make you smile. It's easy to love them. Because lift, bounce, smile and love are the things you always hope to have in your day.

Someone commented on this video: "This is what happiness feels like." Don't you agree, now that you've heard and bounced and smiled?

Taste.

This is just some of the vegan yumminess we've been loving recently!

Porridge with pear, apple and banana.

Home-made muesli with flaxseeds, chia seeds, pepitas, slivered almonds, psyllium husk, and oats, served with banana on rice flakes. (served with four milks—we're crazy that way. Almond, rice, soy and oat—all very yummy and all easily available)

Almond banana fritters served with real maple syrup!

Brown rice with lentil bean mix, sliced avocado on the top. 

Sweet potato and cannellini bean soup.

Quesadillas and Nachos and Tacos—all topped with crazy amounts of guacamole!

Pad Thai—my favourite. Unbelievably scrumptious, noodles and veg and tofu with a magic sauce, made by my beautiful husband. 

And a recipe for you (because I know you'll love it)

Vegan Brownies from the very cool, and very funny Vegan Zombie website:

These are insanely, divinely, yummy. They work with gluten free flour too! We dazzled everyone at my son's party with them, and then a family got the recipe and made a batch for their school fete. How cool is that? It made me very happy, to think of all the vegany love spreading outward.

Touch.

Winter is truly upon us. It's cold here, lots of wind blowing, lots of rain outside. Heaters on inside, sitting in ugg boots and jackets inside, many jackets (for me) outside. 

But because we love the sea, and because it wasn't raining one day, we went to the beach to feel the wind. 

It was Glorious. 

Smell.
My children's skin, as I'm cuddling them. When I'm kissing them goodnight and their skin gives off that sweet, sleepy scent. I breathe in and everything is all right with the world.

and See, again.

My children's stories from the Just Image competition!

I love them, and I know I'm biased, but I think you'll love them too.

Frederic Bates, Late lights, 
1963, watercolour, brush and blue ink on paper, 32.4 x 29.1cm

Down Down Down

by my boy

Down down down—it seemed strange that he should fall that fast through water.

Great unfamiliar shapes shot past as he tumbled, head-over-heels, towards the bottom of the sea. The underwater inhabitants watched with curiosity as the alien trespasser fell through their midst.

A stream of bubbles blew out like a cape behind him as he fell. It was like some great monster was hiding in the depths, and with each mighty breath the sailor was sucked further downwards. Like a missile, he sped through the twilight zone into midnight. In the blink of an eye, all sunlight was shut out. Eerie glowing colours swam in and out of his vision.

At that moment, his need for air hit him. It started like a bed of hot coals sitting in his lungs, and grew into a raging inferno. He tried to swim up, up towards the surface, but he knew it was futile.

And then, the light flickered back on again, first as a soft blue-ish glow, then becoming a harsher, colder shade. And with the light came a new sensation, like he was below the monster now, and it was weeping for something lost. Its great silvery tears flowed over his body.

Finally, the need for oxygen became too much. The sailor blacked out. 

•

Slowly, the young man’s eyes swam back into focus. He was lying on a hard, cracked grey surface as great rivers of rain poured down on him from a turbulent sky. Fog swirled and twisted around towering structures, concealing shadowy forms amid its misty folds.

Suddenly, something swooshed past his fallen body, sending a great wave of dirty water crashing down on him. He cleared his eyes just in time to see a sleek black monster shooting through the darkness. Its great red eyes glared back at him before it was swallowed by the night. The sailor shuddered. Then he heard a voice.

“Oh my god! John, come over here!”

The voice was high and female, and had a foreign tinge.

“What is it? Oh my god!”

This new voice was deeper, but had the same foreign sound.

Someone bent over him.

“What’s your name? Where do you live? What happened?”

The sailor groaned.

“Prithee, good sir, I beseech you; where am I?”

He shook, hacked up a great gob of seaweed, and collapsed again into darkness. 

and…

The Dance Of The Brolgas

by my girl

The sky glowed red above the mountain tops. Underneath the setting sun the pool lay, soft and silent in the twilight.  It was still, reflecting the sky and the bunches of stars that poked their heads out into the world, dimly shining as they waited for the last streaks of sunlight to fade.

Then they came.

Dancing and calling came the brolgas. Waving their wings high, they sang. They shook their beaks and lifted their feet, scattering the water that leapt like tiny fish. The brolgas seemed to sing the moon into existence. Their song was powerful in a simple, beautiful way. The stars glimmered, smiling down at the dancing birds.

The brolgas, five of them, beat their wings and took great leaps in a circle, as the shining sphere of the moon rose into the sky, first low, over the mountains, then higher and higher.

One of the birds stretched its long neck, uncurling it to touch the moon, just gently, with its beak. It lifted its wings and brought them down again, letting out a burst of song.

And the other brolgas raised their heads and watched as the bird rose and circled above them.

Then they too beat their wings, once, twice, three times, and followed the brolga into the sky. The birds flew, giving swoops of song that were filled with the delicate power of the stars and the moon they had sung into life.

∞

and that's it…

(for now!)

here's to finding the joy in every moment you can,

with love from me to you.

how can one person change the world?

My daughter asked this the other day, as we walked along the bike path, the sea murmuring at our side, low bushes thick to the east and west. A small wren darted near our feet, its tail erect and bright blue. A new housing development sat squat on the headland, looking over a dense history of waves, of spirit, of sun and moon rise, and the endless calls of birds.

Here is where deep spirit lies, the local Aboriginals say. There is an indigenous tent embassy set up by the beach, by the water. People are still listening to the living, breathing land, here and elsewhere.

"How can one person change the world?" my daughter asked. "I'm just one person. Humans have done so much damage—it makes me sad. I can't change it."

"You already are changing it," I said. Her hand lay small and soft in mine. Her feet walked in time with mine, her eyes watching everything, noticing, listening. "You are changing it by living your truth," I said. Which sounded so very ambiguous and new agey but that's how we talk. We talk like hippies in our house, and idealists and impossible adventurers.

"But," she said, "I can't make a difference. One person can't."

"One person can, and does, all the time. Their voice speaks out, then it adds to another person's voice and another person's voice, and all of a sudden…"

People start to listen. It can begin with a single voice. Think of Gandhi, and Buddha, and Jesus, and Nelson Mandela, and Rosa Parks. Think of people camped in treetops trying to save old growth rain forests. Think of a girl baking cookies to raise money for the RSPCA. Think of an Israeli man posting a message of love to Iranian people on his Facebook page, and then it spreading, Iranians posting messages in return, a great sweep of peace rising. Think of a President speaking out for marriage equality.

Think of the small acts people do every day— smiling at others, including others, listening to others, sharing with others. Think of passionate people, creative people, questioning people, people who care so much about this planet and the living things on it that they can't help but speak out. They make a difference by living their truth, by spreading compassion, by loving others. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

My daughter is changing the world with her small voice. She submitted her vegan essay to Youngzine, an online current affairs magazine for kids. It got accepted for publication and is on the front page of their U-Write section!

She is making a difference at the age of 9 — by raising an idea she believes in passionately, by stating her opinion, by presenting sources, opening up conversation, talking with others…by speaking her truth. 

And she is making a difference simply by inspiring me. 

I am so proud I could burst. 

Love and peace to you all! May all your feathers be fluffed and your tails bright blue, may the land whisper under your feet and your songs sing out over the sea.

vegie wednesday: a book and a burger

Here we go, my first Vegie Wednesday post! I meant to start last week but…didn't.

Life's like that, isn't it? All unpredictable and pebbly sometimes?
But you keep on. At least, you try.

So yesterday marked day one of moving on. And today? Well, it's day one again, like tomorrow will be. Fresh and unbroken—a field of unmarked snow. Perfect for making new prints, unlike any I've made before.


Anyway, on to Vegie Wednesday! Here goes nothing, as they say…!


So I read this book the other day.

Now, there are books you read and think, "That was awesome! I couldn't put it down!" Then there are ones you think, "Yeah, it was okay, but I didn't like the part where the guy did that thing and it didn't seem that believable and I thought the language was kind of trite so anyway, meh."

And some books? Well, they change your life.

They are written in a way that completely resonates with you, all the way through. It's like the author is sitting there and simply talking. Quietly, he or she reaches in and rearranges you—the way you see things, the way you live your life, the way you want to live your life from this point on.

This book was like that.

This is the first, and probably only non-fiction book for author Jonathan Safran Foer (who wrote a book I loved, called Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close). He wrote it because, as a dabbler in vegetarianism  and as a new father, he wanted to know about the food he gave his son. He wanted to know, specifically, about his meat.

He researched this book painstakingly for three years. He interviewed cattle ranchers, turkey and pig farmers, activists, members of PETA and even a vegetarian who is building a turkey slaughterhouse. He read exhaustively on the subject of animal farming—hundreds of articles, reports and books. He visited industrial farms, family operated farms, and animal sanctuaries. He went deep inside the subject and came out altered.

His book is not, in fact, one huge argument against eating animals. He actually becomes friends with a number of ranchers and farmers. He never says, "Meat is murder!" but he does say this:

The way most animals are farmed today is cruel and destructive. To the environment, to communities, to people and, especially, to the animals themselves.

Foer writes that industrial farming, the farming that represents over 90% of our pork and chickens, and over 75% of our beef, didn't exist 100 years ago. Farms have become corporatised, animals have become mere products, and many independent family farms have disappeared.

Foer presents clear evidence that this type of farming harms the environment in countless ways. He shows clear connections between factory farming and public health issues—such as our growing resistance to antibiotics, the spread of food poisoning and outbreaks of disease.

As for the way the animals are treated—at best, they are treated as commodities. At worst, the treatment is inhumane. Most of these animals lack anything resembling a normal life. Their suffering is often extreme. And this, quite simply, is how most factory farmed animals live and die.

Some of Foer's book is incredibly hard reading. It should be. I mean, we all know, in some part of ourselves, that if we had to face the reality of the modern meat industry, we'd find it a terrible thing to watch.

It's hard learning, but Foer never stands up on a soap box and shouts at us to change. He doesn't say, It's all or nothing! Do this! Do that! This way is right! This way is wrong, wrong, wrong!

He just states what he learned. Bluntly sometimes. Conversationally most of the time. Then he states what he and his family chose to do as a result of his learning, what path they chose for themselves personally.

Foer chose to become a vegetarian. My family and I, who were already vegetarian, have chosen to become (for the most part) vegan. But Foer says you can make a difference with other choices—like, by simply eating less meat. You can also make a difference buying your meat from ethical farms, family farms, local farms. You can read the food labels, do research, be informed.

Foer says, "Our day to day choices shape the world." They do, even though we sometimes feel so small and insignificant. I really believe they do.

He also writes this:

"Compassion is a muscle that gets stronger with use 

and the regular exercise of choosing kindness over cruelty would change us."

When I read those words I thought, That, there, is the muscle I choose. The one I most want to strengthen.

Compassion. First, and most.

This book made such a difference to me. And I've read so much about the subject since. I'm still learning, investigating, making up my own mind. Our family is traveling the path that fits us,
but

there is no single path to walk.

I love that a book changed me. I love that a writer changed my life. That's how it should be. Books should do that to you, don't you think? Otherwise, they are just marks on a page. Otherwise, we are just people holding paper.

ø

Now. Who wants some lentil burgers?

We made them this week. Oh, they were deliciously divine. They were lip-smackingly scrumptious!

They kind of surprised me with their yumminess, as the last two attempts at vegie burgers haven't been so great. The previous ones needed a LOT of sauce :) But these… well, they were moist, didn't fall apart when you looked at them, and were totally tasty. A very welcome addition to our new menu (which we keep adding to, so watch out!).

Here's a link to the recipe and a fancier picture than mine, so you can salivate some more:

I should mention that for our vegie burgers, I forgot to add the bread crumbs (or rice crumbs in our case). I think you don't need them and it might have made them a bit crumbly. Our burgers were really moist and moldable (just how you want your food to be, right? Moldable. Yes.)

ø

Okay. That's it for this week's episode of Vegie Wednesday. I truly hope you enjoyed it. :)

If you want to share any tasty vegie things you've had recently, please do. I would love to think of us cooking together, leaning over the stove, sniffing, tasting, testing. Then sitting down, together, to eat.

Isn't that a beautiful thought?

.

I raise my glass…

to our slower days!

Our taking time out and off days,

our finding balance days;

our days of not doing everything, and doing everything 

at the exact same time!

Because you know what happens, don't you, when you make room? 

Well, 'Everything' springs out…it can't help itself.

All the art and projects and music and ideas and reading that we were trying to find time for, that we were squeezing into our spare spaces… 

there's room for them now.

Time has opened up, laid itself out like a rug,

and we have sprawled over it blissfully, like cats in the sun. 

So there was time last week… 

1.

For one man to celebrate his birthday

and for us to give him banana fritters for breakfast 

and give him our goodies, all wrapped up

and to walk on the beach with him 

and take him out to dinner in his new shirt and tie.

It was a glorious day (for all of us! And it makes me wonder, with all the joy this man brings every single day, whose birthday was it really?)

Happy Birthday, mr beautiful. I love you.

 doesn't he look handsome in his new shirt?

2. There was time…

For a girl to be given an early birthday present from her Nana last Sunday

to go see Mary Poppins! 

In a gorgeous theatre in Sydney,

with two dear friends and a brother and a mum and a dad and a Nana and an aunt!

Plus we had divine Thai food in a restaurant before the show. 

It had this wood carving on the wall, which was carved out of a single piece of wood. Wow. (That's a lot of elephants in the room)

And there was mango sorbet for dessert after the show

and we caught the train there and back 

(which was so. much. fun)

Oh there was such joy bursting out! Three girls and one boy were laughing so hard sometimes they had to call time out on the jokes 

just to breathe.

This was the Best-est Ever Day I was talking about last Monday. It was the kind of day you keep close; you take photos of it, inside your mind, all day. The kind of day you don't ever forget. 

Thank you so much, Nana. I feel so incredibly lucky, having you as my mom and as the Nana to my kids. 

My cup runneth over. 

3. And there was time for…

Joining a food co-op!

How fun it was, to browse inside this tiny store, getting to know how it worked, meeting the people working and shopping there. While my boy did his music lessons, my girl and I scooped gluten free pasta into brown bags, filled jars with pistachios, baker's yeast, and organic popcorn, and we smiled at the babies. 

I have never really been a whole food/bulk food kind of person before (didn't know where to look, how to start, how to move into a food world of organic, whole and simply good). Now it just makes sense to go that direction. 

A new path will do that to you—have you noticed that? You decide one thing, then all these interesting opportunities, contacts, friendships and discoveries open up right in front of you, because this new path and you are a Fit. In this and SO many other ways, this journey is just like our homeschool one. (And how that makes me smile!)

4. There was time

to hunt for vegan cheese… 

and we found it! Scrumptious pizzas on Monday night. Hooray!

(Pizza should get its own star in Hollywood. Don't you think?

Or be awarded the Nobel prize for Awesomeness. Really)

5. And there was time 

to go to the library,

and come home with bags full of beautiful books.

Like

The Element Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures

Theo Gray's Mad Science

and The Big Ideas That Changed the World. 

Awesome books that my kids have been poring over for days. 

Yum. 

And I truly believe libraries are some of the most magical places on Earth. You step in and come out different every time. At least, with different exciting possibilities, whole new worlds in your arms. I can't think of anything better. 

6. And there was time 

to write for days and days and days and days and days and days and days!

My girl is over 2,000 words into a chapter book she's writing on the computer. She's typing it all herself! She does it first thing in the morning, often straight after breakfast, at all times through the day, and sometimes at night instead of reading. She is a word girl on fire. 

And it's a great story—we're loving each instalment. Today we talked about illustration, and she and I started doodling the characters. That turned into her sitting at the table, drawing page after page of characters and scenes from her story. She had such a big smile on her face.

My boy is working on a longer piece too. It's set in this ancient, mythical land and is really complicated. It has him translating English into Spanish and Latin, and juggling a whole bunch of different characters. I've been talking to him about editing recently, about how to use dialogue to create scene, and how fun it can be to pare down a section to its finest bits. He's completely interested—loves getting feedback, just like his sister.

I feel so inspired around them both. It's so great talking to them about their stories. I feel like we are three writers, all of us driven, all of us excited, all of us equals.

7. There was time too,

for a visit to a Buddhist temple with a friend

which was delicious

and peaceful 

and just plain fun.

Are you full yet? 'Cause I'm not done!

Because 

8. There was time 

for a boy to create a piece of music, a jazz piece, and play it for his dad.

Who then wrote it out on manuscript paper

and then they worked on it together and wrote it out on Sybellius (a music software program) and together they edited it. 

The plan is to arrange it for my son's combo, and perform it at the end of Term. Kind of awesome, I think. We've been singing this song for days!

9. There was time for 

a boy and a girl to go to art class, where they sketched copies of portraits by other artists.

A girl was happy with what she did (and doesn't want me to post it here. She's pretty private that way)

And a boy took his sketch and artist's copy home 

to continue working on it, and working on it, and working on it.

A boy in his Element (at least, in one of his Elements!): 

10. 

There was also time for a girl to go to a birthday party

and 

for a whole family to go another birthday party straight after the first birthday party!

I tell you—we are social animals :) 

11.

Of course, there was time for a bike ride. 

Bliss.

Enough said. (I was too busy zipping along in the sunshine with the kids careening in front and behind, all of us exploring, talking, laughing, to take photos!) 

 And finally…? 

(Yes, I'm stopping after this!)

12.

There was time for a boy to rehearse with his Latin Jazz Ensemble, which he just loves.

This coming Friday, the Ensemble are off to perform at a National Jazz Festival. Their band director is none other than mr. beautiful! In one of their songs, my boy will be solo-ing on timbales. Boy, is he excited. 

My girl and I aren't going, because two days of driving and two days of concerts just aren't my daughter's thing. (Not yet, anyway) 

So the boys are off on A Grand Adventure,

and my sweet girl and I will find, you know, a few fun things to do ourselves. :)

(We are actually off to this festival on Sunday. We can't wait. Another train ride up to Sydney. Lots of yummy food! Not that I'm ever driven by my tummy. No no, not at all)

Ah.

We're all of us so excited. 

For the future, and for now. 

For our fine adventures—

the ones we take on together, and the ones we do alone—

and for 

having time to savour them. 

Vegie Wednesdays… a Beginning

What I would like, is to have each of you here right now. All of us in a room together, just smiling at each other. Beaming ridiculously, grins bursting out. Because that's how I feel in this moment. Heart full of gratitude, wanting to see your smiles and to share mine with you.

Thank you for your support. Thank you so much.

But seeing as you aren't here, in this room with me this moment (and why did that wish not work? I closed my eyes and everything!), I will send my smiles and overflowing heart out into the air and into the ether. I will send energy and light and love on the four winds.

I hope they find you. And find you well.

So, onto business! :)

This is the beginning of a new idea I have.

Because we are going through a fairly life-changing, soul-changing, mind-changing journey here, it's tempting to write about it all the time. You know how it is? Like when you've read a book or a film you wish everyone could see. Or you've had an adventure and you want to show all the pictures? You want to sit everyone down to your slide show, share with them the smells, the sights, the sounds, the tastes. You want to sit and talk for hours about how you feel and how the adventure has changed you.

But maybe not everyone wants to hear about the journey, or maybe they're tired. Maybe they want to hear a little, then go to bed, or, you know, do their laundry? Maybe people want to hear about the other parts of your life, outside the Voyage that Made Everything Different. Maybe they want to know about your days, the walk you had on the beach, a moment with your kids that made you smile.

It's about balance, I suppose. And though we're leaning far and fully into our New Path, I understand it's good to look around. Notice the other stuff. Write about the other Stuff. It's important.

With that in mind,

I'm thinking that I'll write about our Vegie Adventures on Wednesdays.

I'll write about the things we've learned, the books we've read. I'll write about the hard stuff and the good stuff—stuff that involves delicious recipes, and tales of hunting for vegan cheese. I'll write about how we're feeling and coping with a diet that is so different and new for us (but becoming more normal, every day). I'll post links to things I care about and to information, to resources, articles and books, and to organisations I believe are making a difference. Some of my words might feel heavy. I'm hoping most of my words will bring light, along with new ideas and a simple view into how a family can live this journey. I want it to be a space where Real and True can sit alongside Hope and Respect and Love.

All this?

Wow.

On a single day labeled "Vegie Wednesdays"?

Yes, I say!

I mean, there's R U Ok day, and there's Daffodil Day and there's Talk Like a Pirate Day. Look at the difference those single days have made.

And they have. In the best possible ways.

I hope I can make some kind of difference too. This issue matters, so much, to me.

(The issue being, in the broadest biggest sense, the respectful, humane treatment of all living creatures on this earth. In the smallest sense, finding ways to eat that don't cause suffering to others).

So I know my day doesn't have quite the ring of those days, or the reach.
(And I know the name isn't so crash hot, but I can't think of a better one right now! Suggestions?)

But, and this is what matters really,
it's a start.

It's something, which (I've heard and so they say),

is always more than nothing.

So I'm launching this Day officially, right now. Cue the champagne bottle on a string! Cue the orchestra (or should it just be a drum roll?). Cue the marching band and the release of the doves! Cue the scissors and the ribbon.

Smash! Bang! Parrump! Flap! Snip!

There. That's done.


And now I'm off to make pancakes with oat milk and fresh laid eggs from our chickens,

who are
this minute,

pa-cark!ing loudly outside as they search for grubs in the grass.

(and if you can't or don't have eggs, here's a recipe (my first Vegie Wednesdays link!) to some vegan pancakes. You could totally use nut, oat or rice milk in place of the soy. I haven't tried this recipe, but I should, don't you think?)

Soon, my girl and her sleepover friend will wake and come sleepily down the stairs. My boy will be tousle-haired and have his black pants on as always. My kids will smile and come, as they always do, for morning cuddles.

The dog will roll on his back some time today,
and wag his tale in the delicious sunlight.

We'll go to buy my son's new Scout shirt and eat a yummy vegan lunch at the Buddhist temple for a treat.

Music will get played.
And stories will be told.

Toys will have silly voices given to them and they'll have adventures. And a whole lot of laughing will happen. I know it.


It's going to be a beautiful day.


:)

Next week: I'm going to write a review of the book I just read. It's called Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. It was extraordinary and painful, enlightening and heartfelt. Which is kind of like life at its purest, isn't it?

.

new world

I don't know if I've mentioned this, but

I love to learn new stuff.

I'm sure you couldn't guess from, oh, the title of this blog, or the things I talk about. Like our homeschool discoveries, our freedom experiment, our journey into life learning, and choosing a life of As-Much-Yes-As-We-Can-Stand. In fact I'm sure my announcement comes as a complete surprise!

Well…
now you know. :)


So it has come as quite a shock to find that our New Adventure Into Veganism

hasn't been 100% fun.

Since starting homeschooling, I've come to find—to my delight—that learning on our own terms, almost always brings joy. So I'd come to think learning would always do that. Bring joy. Lift us up, fill us, bring us light.

So I wasn't expecting this new journey to feel so hard. Or for my body to take so much time to adjust, in every way.

It's had to adjust to learning challenging, difficult things,
to not eating things it had come to love,
and to be occupied for days with things Serious and Life Changing.

I've never been great at the Sad/Serious Stuff. I take it so much to heart; I take it on board. I sometimes let it collapse me. This time has been no different.

And yesterday, as strong as my resolve has been,

I felt close to caving.

We went out for the afternoon to buy some goodies from the appliance store, and

we got SO hungry! We forgot to bring snacks, so we drove home, tummies rumbling, and we still had to get some vegan-y stuff at the shops. Which involved going down the dairy aisle to see what sort of tofu and soy yoghurt we could find (that had no GMOs, was not overly processed, etc), and

Oh.

We saw the cheese.

The cheese! Glowing there, the cambembert, feta, cheddar, ricotta.

Calling their sweet siren calls. They looked just gorgeous there, on the shelves.

And Oh!
The Instant Pining! 
The Terrible Longing! 
Hungry now more than ever! 
Oh!


In a way it was kind of funny, our drive home from the supermarket (having resisted, just). All my son and I could talk about was cheese.

We simply could not stop talking about cheese.

What cheese we'd eat. How much cheese we'd eat. How we'd never stop eating the cheese if only, if only, we ate cheese. It was pitiful!

(My daughter and husband were strong. Somehow (perhaps they'd had tofu stuck in their ears?) they hadn't heard the Song of the Feta, the dulcet tones of the Edam, the Call of the Brie…they made it through the dairy aisle hungry but unscathed—they were the lucky ones!)

So what did we do when we got home?

After we crawled in, sand in our mouths, there on our hands and knees, just about to crack, hungry to our very depths…?

Well, we ate, of course.

We ate fresh-made, still warm, gluten free bread I'd baked before going out,

with delicious dairy-free spread and organic apricot jam.

I made a fruit platter of pear and apple and orange and strawberries and we discovered that a strawberry eaten together with a pink-lady apple is seriously divine.

We gobbled up pistachios

and then I made air-popped popcorn in our new, just bought, handy-dandy air-popping-popcorn maker!

It was all so scrumptious. Utterly filling.

Slowly we uncurled. Slowly we unclenched, and slowly we returned to our Selves.

And we looked about in this new world

and we called it

Good.



And today

my son and I hardly thought about cheese at all!

:)



(having read this over, I can hear people out there saying, "Dude. Why didn't you just eat the dang cheese?" Well, we've decided we don't want to. It's complicated. We don't want to eat anything that's connected in any way to the suffering and/or eating of animals. And even in the most humane circumstances, dairy food is connected. So that's us, what we've chosen for ourselves, and that means we aren't eating the (lovely) cheese.

I found a recipe yesterday though, where you can make your own. How exciting! You just need agar agar powder, and nutritional yeast, and the feather of a gryphon and the eyelash of a fairy… It'll be a piece of cake to make. Now, where's my chef's hat?)

different

Oh, it's been so quiet here, hasn't it?

We have been making some really big changes in our lives, and I've had a lot of thoughts in my head (let's imagine the hamsters on the wheel going super super fast! Extra hamsters coming in to carry the load. Extra wheels. A whole fairground of scampering, whizzing thoughts. It's crazy in here right now)

but I haven't known how to write about them.

Because our changes are making people say, "Why?" and sometimes, "Really?" or, "That's hard to hear." I think perhaps I'm making others feel uncomfortable.

So I've gotten blocked when it comes to writing here. I've worried that maybe writing about our changes might make people feel sad or irked or lectured to. It might seem I'm saying, "This way of living is the only way." Or, "What you're doing is wrong."

But then I think, I need to talk about it. And let other people make of it what they will. All I can do is write who I am and my own truth.

Isn't that the point of all this, after all?

Anyway, here's the thing:

we've decided to go almost-all-the-way vegan.

Other than the eggs our sweet chickens provide for us during the day while they roam our garden, we won't be eating any other animal products. When we're home or when we're out.

We've already been vegetarian for a year and a half, but now we're cutting out the other stuff. Which means we are now

meat free
eggs (other than from our chooks) free

dairy free

and because of our tummies,
wheat free too.

It's the combination of all these limits and things-we-can't-eat that have made some people say:
"But how will you survive?" and
"Oh! No icecream! No lasagne! No ricotta pancakes!"

And everyone has asked,
"Why??"

So, after saying, "Actually, we've been eating well!" and
"Actually, we can eat all those things, just without the dairy":),

I have said Why.
And it's tough going.

Because our Why comes from some recent hard learning,
not just by me, but by my husband too,
and then shared (very carefully) with our children.

Really hard learning about factory farming
(also called "industrial farm animal production").

About the impact intensive farming has,
not just on animals, but on our health too,
and on the environment.

It's big stuff, and if you throw in watching video footage of animals in factory farms, it's devastating.

After you've learned about it, it's hard to think about anything else. And it's big enough stuff that independent research groups, the UN, non-vegetarians, journalists and non-activists, are getting in on it, saying:
"Hey! This isn't working! Not just for animals, but for humans too—for the whole planet, in fact. This is not sustainable, this is not ethical, and this is not healthy."


I've never, ever, pushed our vegetarianism before. Even though our choice was based on ethics, it was deeply personal. I didn't talk about it. Almost no-one questioned it.

But now, just like when we started homeschooling, we're being asked, "Why?"

I get that. People want to know. They are curious.

And I suppose just like when we started homeschooling, I could say, "It's a personal choice. We think it's best for us," or somesuch. After all, when we started homeschooling I mostly said, "My daughter was unhappy at school. We pulled her out. She got happy. My son asked to join us. Now we are all very happy."

I never said, "We're homeschooling because the education system doesn't work for everyone. Because teachers are underfunded and overworked, because schools work to a formula that can't cater to the individual, because there's barely any room for creative learning and independent thinking, because it's a broken model that can limit and damage children's sense of worth, desire to learn, and future life."

Yeah, I kept that all to myself. :) I simply mostly said, "This way fits us better."


So I could be saying that about this choice too.

Why aren't I? Why, when I open my mouth to reply to the questions,
do these measured words come out, words people find hard and don't necessarily want to hear?


Because once you take your perfectly content vegetarian self to a lecture
that makes the argument against eating animals bigger than you ever imagined,

and you then look up factory farming (and "industrial farm animal production") ,

and spend days and days researching it (the cons and the pros),

and you find overwhelming evidence to say This Isn't Working,

and

you see the scale of suffering animals go through
to mass produce and feed people something they don't need to eat so much of (or at all),

you just can't say, "Oh, it doesn't fit us."

You (or at least I) say, This is Why.


This week I've discovered that learning can hurt your heart.
Some learning carries Hard on its back.

And if you talk about what you've learned, you have to be careful. You want to avoid becoming so bent on your own mission, so fixed on the answer that fits you, that you can't see the myriad options in between All and Nothing. I don't want to ever do that. And I never want to make people feel bad for the choices they make.


But there are things I believe, and hold dear.

For one, I believe you should live your life like you mean it. Don't hold back just because something is hard.

Two. I believe you should live your truth. Seek it, follow your heart and your gut.

Three. I believe you shouldn't beat people about the head with your life or your truth, but (especially if people ask), you should be free to speak it.

Four. You should remember to speak that truth with kindness, with compassion, with as much knowledge as you can gather, and most importantly, with the understanding that everyone has a different path, a different way of seeing, their own learning to do and choices to make.

Five. I believe in treating all living things with respect and with compassion.

Oh, I believe that last one so big. Bigger and brighter than ever before.



So. This is my truth. Our journey. Shared here—with love and hope!—in this space.

I know once we get used to this new path, the nerves will settle.

That we'll feel joy and steadiness, 

the calm that comes from knowing we are doing something that truly fits.

p.s.

We're eating really well, you might like to know! Really yummy stews and soups and thai food and pasta. Oat milk is delicious in pear porridge! Not only that, I realised we were eating cheese with almost every lunch and dinner—now we're not. I'm sure that's better for us. My husband, this very minute, is working on a cheese-less pizza. We've tried batch one, and now he's working on idea #2. He's gorgeous, pottering about in the kitchen :)


p.p.s:

Here are some more links, if you feel like checking them out…

Animals Australia

http://whyveg.com/

Interview with Jonathan Safran Foer (author of Eating Animals)

http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/interview-jonathan-safran-foer-20110915-1ka2s.html

Report by Pew Charitable Trusts "Putting Meat on the Table: Industrial Farm Animal Production in America"

http://www.pewtrusts.org/news_room_detail.aspx?id=38438