Darwin's Reveries, Vapour Trails and Winter Jasmine

Darwin's Sandwalk Thinking Path (TedGrant/Wikipedia Commons)

I've been reading an interesting book called "How to Think About Exercise" by Damon Young and the School of Life. One idea particularly struck a chord with me as I have noticed it myself.  Young talks about Charles Darwin, who deliberately took several walks a day along a sandy lane ("thinking path") near his home - he did this in all weathers at set times of the day.  It was where he did his "hard thinking" as his son said when describing his daily routine later.  It is thought that certain movement which requires effort but not concentration can promote a meditative state of mind, allowing the mind to wander freely and join together impressions and ideas, promoting creativity.   
What is the specific link between walking and thinking?  The traditional NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) approach relates specific categories of movement (breathing patterns, eye movements, gestures) to specific mental processes (visual memory, internal dialogue, etc.).  Repetitive  physical activity is thought to relate to the more general state of mind and thus provide a more general context for our thinking processes.  When I met Patrick Browning, the hypnotherapist at Paul's Cancer Support Centre, I got very upset during one of our discussions, and he helped me by showing me how to tap my fingers on my knee - I stopped crying almost immediately which was a very strange sensation. I also remember a particularly bleak time after my surgery when I was depressed and feeling sorry for myself- I forced myself to go outside in all weathers to trudge/shuffle around Wandsworth Common - normally a 10 min walk would take me about 30 mins.  But it seemed like a small triumph every day, just to complete a circuit and get some fresh air along with a bit of movement. 
When I visited the Penny Brohn Centre a few years ago, we were encouraged to make small sustainable changes to our lives to improve our fitness.  One thing on my list was to walk to the station every day because I had got into the lazy habit of getting on a bus. Frequently the bus was full, late, and I loathe steamy buses in rainy weather but I had just got used to doing it and didn't realise how miserable it was making me.  It's only a 12 min walk so I made it a new habit to walk and don't even consider the bus an option any more.  
I know that you always read about exercise being good for you, but I really began to notice that my thoughts weren't necessarily worrying about the day ahead or anything in particular, they just swirled around gently and came to settle like a feather landing, giving a bit of space above them like having extra stretch room.  I do notice that sometimes I can come to a decision, nothing major, just the next step in some project.  I really treasure this time, just a few minutes before the madness of the day to not think about much.  As an added bonus, my experiments with mindfulness (click on the link to try the Headspace walking meditation podcast) have helped me notice small things en route.  For example, the other day I posted on FB a picture of some plane vapour trails which really looked amazing - there were about 10 of them at least, the air was so still and clear, and they fanned off into the blue horizon.  

Vapour trails, St. John's Hill, 25/01/16

Over the winter at a certain crossroads I catch a whiff of Winter-flowering jasmine in a pocket-sized corner park, a brilliant sweet scent above the exhaust fumes. There is always a bird or two tweeting in the trees or a local roof top, or crows eating their urban carrion (fried chicken or a piece of burger bun). Once even a squirrel on a tree in the main road - how did he get there? - marooned on a island of two trees.  One special day I saw a jersey tiger moth, looking very exotic by the railway track.

 Jersey Tiger Moth

These small walks allow your mind to be a bit looser and remove the focused mindset you often seem to need to get through a busy day.   In a similar way, the writer Haruki Murakami in his book "What I talk about when I talk about running" describes how running can free his mind: "Occasionally, hardly ever really, I get an idea to use in a novel. But really as I run, I don't think much of anything worth remembering."  

It is easy to forget that the mind and the body are closely connected, but good to remember that the word "heal" means "whole".  I like this quote from Young:

The point is not that we have to be Olympians, tracking personal bests with tailored dawn training schedules. We need not be the fastest, strongest or most agile. The point is that exercise can be a commitment to wholeness; to a life enriched and enhanced by physical and mental striving. Darwin was no professional athlete: but he knew about fitness and flourishing 

In Winter the Oak is revealed

I just read a blog post by Courtney Carver, (founder of the minimalist projects Be More with Less and Project 333), When Nothing Reveals Everything.  She wrote about how, to some people, Minimalism may be described as stark, scary, empty.  As I was thinking about it (and thinking about how this could describe my feelings when I was diagnosed with cancer), I looked out into my Wintry back garden and saw my 2 lovely fruit trees that in my mind are promising me so much this year.  They have no leaves on them, but their trunks look sturdy in the February sunlight.  There is a stark beauty about them (this word seemed to resonate with me today).   They are blowing in the blustery wind, but birds sit on their branches, they are peeping above the garden wall. When you have an illness like cancer, you are often literally naked (well those surgical gowns hardly count as covering) but also you feel like all your emotions are on the surface, like some barrier has been pulled down and you are there in all your real rawness. You can't hide your emotions, you can't hide the fact you are ill (you can try, but you can't escape the facts that are known to yourself).  But it is in these difficult times, with nothing covering us, that our true selves are revealed. We have to face up to things, and others do too.  But in that fact, there is also beauty.  And the strength that has been uncovered was always there, under the leaves.

  Not my fruit trees

As I was thinking about trees, I came upon the following paragraph by Paul Kirtley, a wilderness bushcraft specialist, who has kindly given me permission to include it here.
It is from his blog, and describes identifying trees in Winter.

"Learning to identify trees in leaf is certainly easier than without.  But if you only learn to identify trees by their leaves in summer, you are only getting to know them in one mood and you are only getting to know one part of the tree.  Learning about trees at other times of the year forces you to focus on other defining features.  If you also take the time to observe the flowers, fruit, seeds, bark and buds of a tree, you will not only be much better at identifying trees year-round, you learn about the tree's full annual cycle.  This study will give you a much greater insight into how all the seasons are connected and how for the tree, they flow from one into another.  The better you know the trees all year-round, the better you will be able to recognise valuable resources, and the more you will feel at home in the woods all year round."

By supporting our friends and family when they are ill and in the wilderness, we get to know them in all their moods and colours, but feel more connected, and in that way, they will not feel so lonely and lost in their illness.  We can arm ourselves with knowledge about their "other defining features" which are exposed without their hair, confidence and health and help them discover their strength, humour and resilience which will help us all navigate through the difficult times.

A Cauldron, a Carynx, a Clàrsach

My previous illness has made me more determined than ever to enjoy the many treasures and surprises on my doorstep.  It's very easy to think of reasons why I don't want to get on a train or tube on my days off, but yesterday I was keen to use my time doing something different.  I got up early and enjoyed a sit in the Winter sunshine in Bloomsbury Square, then used my National Art Pass at the British Museum to see the exhibition Celts: Art and Identity. "Celts" encompasses many different people, a cultural label rather than ethnic identity. The term Keltoi was first used around 500 BC by the ancient Greeks to refer to people (uncivilized barbarians, according to them) living north of the Alps.  There are none of their own written records and were disparate groups who shared stylised art distinctly different from that of Mediterranean people.  Much later people from modern Celtic nations adopted the name to emphasise their distinct identities (e.g. Welsh, Irish, Scottish, Cornish, Brittany, Manx etc.)  I found the exhibition very interesting and absorbing; soft music plays in the background and there was quite a hush in the halls, although it was fairly crowded (it finishes on 31st Jan).  The first beautiful object you see is a rare ancient Scottish clàrsach (harp), intricately carved from hornbean in a case carved to match.

I loved all the animal and fantastical beast-inspired designs - the boar is particularly prevalent, on shields, brooches and coins, also birds, horses, dragons.

Iron-Age Boar ornament, possibly from a helmet. c.100 BC - AD 100, Norfolk 

Photo: © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

I like that a few of the amazing finds are from Wandsworth and Battersea - apparently, this part of the Thames was a popular place to throw your offerings in the water (plus ça change!)

The Battersea Shield, Iron Age, c.350-50 BC © The Trustees of the British Museum

Bronze Waterloo Bridge Helmet (on left; ceremonial), c. 150-50 BC

Another stunning display features a hoard of 4 gold torcs (300-100 BC) found at Blair Drummond in Sterling by a metal detectorist on his very lucky first outing.  Interestingly the skilled workmen demonstrated familiarity with foreign Mediterranean styles.  The Snettisham Hoard is even more amazing, a total of around 70 complete torcs with many other broken pieces (c. 70 BC).

The Snettisham Hoard

I really loved learning about the carynx - a serpentine trumpet with a boar's head which accompanied warriors into battle (you can listen to a replica through an earpiece next to it).

These figures, depicted on the Gundestrup cauldron, are playing the carynx

One of the most striking objects in the exhibition is the Silver Gundestrup cauldron (c.100 BC, found in Nothern Denmark).  It is thought to have been made in Bulgaria, although this is debated.  The vessel is richly decorated with numerous ritual and mythological scenes of Gods and fantastic animals.  See this link for further details.  It is described by the museum as being one of the most important and intriguing finds from ancient Europe.

Gundestrup Cauldron

For other reviews, have a look at these links:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/art/what-to-see/celts-british-museum-review/

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/sep/22/celts-art-identity-review-unintentional-resurrection-jonathan-jones

Apologies for the annoying background to some of the text; still learning!

Thanks, I found it!

I must walk around with my eyes facing down, because I always find (and pick up!) lots of jewellery.  All the pieces above (and more) have been found on the street.  There is even a pair of matching earrings which I found weeks apart in different places (I replace the hooks). The trick is spotting potential and having the patience to wait until inspiration comes as to how to use them. Recently my magpie tendencies began to pay off as Accessorize have been selling off broken pieces in their Winter sale for 10 or 20 p each; for grand total of £4.90 I managed to get a collection of about 20 pendants, brooches and earrings (RRP £224.00) which I have been able to piece together using some of the above loose stones and a few jump-rings (very inexpensive in craft/hobby shops).

I've spent a few happy hours putting everything together and take pleasure choosing something interesting to wear every day.  I also think of my Grandparents - I use my Grandad's watchmaking pliers and hope he would be proud.  

I inherited the "finding gene" from my Nan (I am in genetics, it DOES exist!) as I have a few gold rings that she found over the years (her findings were higher class).  Who says the streets of London aren't paved with gold?  Beady eyes, that's the secret. 

Goal-Setting: My Treasured Space

The Coping With Cancer Stress Course had a couple of sessions discussing the usefulness of setting goals.  I wasn't immediately sure how helpful it would be but we were encouraged to set some short-term, medium-term and long-term goals as a way of focusing our thoughts and having some aims, no matter how large or small.  There are plenty of websites discussing goal-setting in the context  of careers or sport. 

In a wider sense, it is also a way of thinking about how we spend our time: obviously, cancer has a way of making us face up to our limited time on Earth, and for some of us maybe we can think about goals that have remained hazy or dormant.  Sometimes we may feel limited or trapped in unsatisfying lifestyles or stressed with commitments, but it can be amazing what a bit of determination can achieve even with such constraints.  I was thinking about a few of my goals today as I looked out of my back door onto my Wintry back garden.  The garden looked a bit grey in the evening light, but it made me happy to look at it because it contains the elements of a short-term goal I had set for myself a couple of years ago.  The garden is very small and the whole back wall was covered by a large ivy which had got a bit out of control over the last few years.  

Looking back at my diary at the time, as one of my goals, I decided that the garden could be utilised better - I always sit outside whenever the weather allows, but because the table and chairs were at the end of the garden, I didn't use them enough (they were also covered in pots and seedlings trying to escape the slugs - God, those things must just abseil down in the night!) and they were also in the shady area.  The ivy took up too much space and there was a spot covered by ivy in the far corner that collects the last of the evening sun before it disappears behind the roof of the block of flats.  

Firstly, I thought very specifically about what I would want from the garden in an ideal world and came up with:

A space to sit and have coffee with my husband

A meditation area with something to appeal to every sense

A view from the back living room window (rather than just ivy)

Privacy

A fruit tree

I started by moving and clearing some pots by the back door and made a space for our small garden table and chairs.  I sewed a cheerful table cloth from inexpensive remnants (see previous post Unfinished Business) and have been at great pains to keep it clear of everything except a couple of lanterns.

The next thing was the ivy.  This was a big job every year just to keep cutting it back and it had developed a very thick trunk.  My Dad very kindly borrowed an electric saw and spent an afternoon wrestling with the stump.  This then created a space behind the pond where we put a homemade frame for a raised bed and filled it with compost.  Originally I thought to plant some bamboo in it to create privacy and a lovely rustling noise in the wind, but a gardening friend warned me that bamboo can get out of hand.  I reconsidered, and serendipitously at that time won £200 in gardening vouchers writing about "My Treasured Space" for Groundwork.  The vouchers went towards 2 fruit trees: an apple and a gage, chosen for their fruit, hardiness and flowers (all of these aspects remain to be seen!).

Fruit tree in the background

The meditation area next to the pond was created easily by buying a few decking tiles from Homebase and just laying them down on top of the concrete paving, creating a space just big enough for a lovely sun chair, which is hidden from view by a curly hazel (given to me in a pot by my parents years ago and now thriving in the soil).  A delicate wind chime given to me years ago by my Nan and Grandad hangs in the hazel with a selection of birdfeeders.  Some white solar fairy lights add a bit of magic in the early evening.

Robin and goldfinch in the hazel

The outcomes have been; 

I enjoy breakfasts in the Summer outside,

I am hidden from view when meditating,

The fruit trees can be seen from our lounge and will provide fruit, flowers and privacy as they grow,

The birds perch in the trees and can be seen from the lounge enjoying the food - in a London garden we have managed to attract woodpigeons, wrens, robins, blackbirds, great tits (produced 2 broods of babies last year in our birdbox), goldfinches and a lovely dunnock.  We have a visiting squirrel, mice and have even seen a hedgehog once.  I photograph all of them and participate in on-line wildlife photography pages (e.g. Spotter Jotter, a marvellous site with some very experience bird watchers and other wildlife enthusiasts who help with ID when required).

A great tit feeding his brood

When meditating, I can concentrate on sounds (the wind, leaves, wind-chime, birdsong; there was a solar fountain but was broken by a cat fight!), smell (lavender and rosemary planted in pots which can be moved around), touch (the feel of the hazel branches) and the view (of the pond, the fruit trees).

When  not meditating, I can read in the last of the evening Summer sun.

I think about my family and friends who have helped to create the garden: my mum and dad who have put a lot of hours into it, my husband who over the years has helped me take loads of ivy to the tip, my nan and grandad, my cousin Teresa and her partner who put in a strong trellis and moved a huge rose bush, my on-line photography community, my community garden friends who occasionally store things here.  It is full of memories now and holds promise for the future.

So from a modest short-term goal, my life has been enriched in all these ways, some foreseen, some unforeseen.  I shall continue to enjoy my tiny patch of ground:  because it is so small, I know every inch of it and the wildlife that visits.  I haven't any concrete aims for it this year, but have some emerging ideas of creating a more Zen feel and to explore the ways that the Japanese create harmony and mindfulness in small ways in their gardens, for instance I vaguely remember I read somewhere that because space is at a premium for many Japanese, even the way that a piece of twine is tied becomes important, i.e. there is a focus on tiny details.  This is a good way to take your imagination away from unpleasant thoughts and to give your mind something restful, hopeful and calming to ruminate on. 

Small details can be fascinating!

What goals do you have for the short or long-term?  How will you achieve them?  Think of the barriers that have prevented you from doing them.  What practical steps can you take to overcome them now?

Homemade Almond Milk

Following on from my healthy eating theme of the last post (Christmas Sprouts) I thought I'd include a very simple way of making your own almond milk - no special equipment (nut bags, anyone?) required.

I haven't replaced all my milk with almond milk because it does not naturally contain calcium (although the nuts do) and as my cancer has left me at risk of osteoporosis, I need to keep those levels up.  However, almond milk is lower in calories (approx. 30 calories per cup vs. 90 for skimmed milk and 150 for whole milk) than other milks and doesn't contain saturated fat, so I use it on my cereal.

It's really easy, firstly just soak a handful of unblanched almonds in water overnight.  

This step isn't even strictly necessary from a recipe point of view but nutritionally, it removes protease (enzyme) inhibitors from the nut skin which occur naturally and prevent the nuts from germinating.  It is believed that removing these inhibitors activates the enzymes and makes nutrients more available for digestion. (I don't know if "raw" almonds have been pre-processed before packaging, which may make this point irrelevant; I think most raw nuts available in the U.K. have been treated to remove toxins but theoretically still retain the ability to germinate). Then add the nuts to fresh water (I used about 700 ml, doesn't need to be exact).  

A quick blitz in a blender is all that's required before sieving the liquid and keeping it in the fridge. I keep it in a re-used milk container. 

It does separate so just give it a quick shake before each use.  I presume that stabilisers, gums and fats are added to commercial brands to prevent this separation, but the homemade version tastes the same, if not better, to me and there are no added sugar or sweeteners (also I note that the Alpro brand only contains 2% almonds, see their website, although it does have added vitamins and calcium).

The remaining nut pulp can be added to breakfast cereal and I have also found it's good added to bread and cake recipes as it keeps the mixture moist and increases the protein content (healthy cakes? Count me in!).

  

Christmas Sprouts (not that kind)

I haven't appreciated the latest "study" that suggests up to 90% of cancers are due to lifestyle and environment. Many people have no known reason for their illness, many are genetic and many are out of our control (including the environment - I would love to live on a mountain in the Pyrenees but there are not many genetics labs there I could work in). Having said that, it is always a good idea to eat a sensible diet and I am keen to add nutrients whenever I can to every meal, especially this time of year when you find yourself running from work to meet someone for a drink and are not necessarily in the right place for a healthy meal.  I have found an easy, low-effort way of ensuring some healthy food is always available.  A few years ago I bought a seed sprouter - it was about £15 but you can easily just use a big glass jar.  You soak the seeds in water overnight, then just rinse them into the trays, which have grrooves that the small roots can grip on and also fine drainage holes.  The seeds sprout the next day and within 2 or 3 days you have a tray of greenery.   

I add them to sandwiches, salads and stir them into soups and stews.  But if in a hurry, I just add them to my toast with peanut butter or in a wrap with some salad laves and some leftover roast chicken. The only effort involved is rinsing the seeds with water twice a day to keep them damp - I keep them on the windowsill by the kitchen sink to remind me, but they don't need much light or space so they are ideal for small kitchens. The seeds I grew at the start were in mixed packets of alfalfa, radish, cress, mustard etc., which were designed for that purpose, but I have recently been trying out lentils, mung beans and aduki beans in larger packs from health shops which grow beautifully and add a nutty taste and delicious crunchy texture to your salads.

Once they have been growing about a week, they tend to get a bit straggly, so you can put them in a container in the fridge just before this point (make sure the last water was a few hours before, so they are not wet) and they last perfectly well for another few days.  

If you try the jar method, to rinse the sprouts every day, you can just wash them out into a sieve and then put them back in the jar.  They grow perfectly well but you find that with a seed sprouter, the delicate seedlings are not disturbed so much and tend to be a bit sturdier.


I made a nice accompaniment for my sprouts today - buckwheat pancakes. Cheated a bit with a mix, but added eggs, milk and water. Heated the batter gently in a pan with a bit of oil. Healthy and full of good quality protein.

Happy Christmas Sprouting!