This is my second apple pie in two weeks the result of having come upon gluten and wheat-free crust at the grocery. Ya-hoo. The first one also had a organic topping and I don't mean organic as in au naturale although it was natural and organic in its own way. That top crumbled too. Like a kid with playdough, I rolled it all into a ball, got out a knife and sculpted little hearts I placed around the top.
This afternoon procrastination prompted me to make another pie. Actually I'm uncertain it's truly procrastination since often working with my hands, tending, be it vacuuming or cooking inspires me. Today while thinly slicing each apple I thought of women around the world cooking at that very moment, some in earthen ovens outside and others in kitchens filled with appliances, all of them connected in the preparing of food. I thought of the apple, how woman was tempted by the apple and how during college while working at camp I told a some story of the apple, not the Eve story, but in the telling also cut the apple horizontally to reveal a star, a symbol of Venus, planet of beauty and love. That wasn't the story I told either I'm quite certain thirty years ago.
With pie in the oven, I was inspired to call my cable company something I had also procrastinated doing after my bill doubled. I assumed as with the roofer that this too would be a hassle.* Forgetting the flow is always around and I'm the one that's AWOL, I mustered my patience and called the toll free number. Within two prompts I got past the auto-woman and found Erica, who five minutes later had me signed up for the same service plus commercial free radio for less than what I had initially paid.
Before hanging up, I shared my gratitude for her helpfulness and patience as I had in far too much detail explained why I didn't want the multitude of services offered. I concluded with, "Have a good day" the phrase offered by cashiers in check out lines. I've previously wondered do they mean it. I meant it. Maybe they do to.
Having said good bye, the smell of pie caught my nose and the site of the last Valentine's rose caught my eye. Over the days, I've been photographing them, gifts from Mystery and Bogey, at different angles. Early on they reminded me of a woman, the petals like folds of the labia (can I say that on-line?) reminded me of the womb and the mystery, the place of darkness leading to life and light.
Today though I notice the spiraling of petals and am reminded of the journey of life, how we go round and round. If we're not paying attention life can seem like the same thing day after day. With presence, each going round offers something new just as I noticed looking even more closely at the rose. Each petal has velvety red veins.
Removing a petal from one of the wilted five, I see the veins come from the center outward. They look like branches stemming from the trunk of a tree. Did the tree inspire the rose or the rose inspire the tree? Maybe it was mutual. Nature knows a reciprocity we seem as a whole to have forgotten. Maybe the spiraling road in the rose will remind us of acknowledging one another whatever our pace as we make the rounds of life, some spiraling into the darkness while others are emerging, all part of the Mystery. And may we imagine and notice in each turn of life, that life like the rose and the apple, and the star in the apple as well as the interactions with strangers in kitchens worlds away, in grocery lines, on phone lines and yes, in crumbly top pie, life is ultimately beautiful and sweet.
-Dawn! The Good News Muse, 02/10
*Click Nov.11 for more on "Living" with Martha...titled "Sucked in by Beauty" and click
Feb. 14 for the story on the flow and my roofer.
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