I am here
Although I do enjoy spending time online, when I spend far too much time it makes me feel numb. I don’t know what it is, maybe information overload, but there is something desensitizing about the Internet. Of course there are texts, articles and talks that enrich, entertain or provoke us in some manner, where their content stays and grows with us for weeks. However, while reading them it’s really easy to click on those other links that just take up time. I notice that the more I stay online, the more my body and my spirit suffers and I suspect that it’s partially because of this ‘extra’ time of mine that I allow the Internet to rob me of… the time that makes me more detached than it makes me feel connected.
Someone told me once that a good start for regaining balance is to say to yourself ‘I am here’. I am here [breathe]. I am here [look around]. I am here [notice how you feel]. I am here [notice your body]. I am here… Who am I? Where am I going? What have I stopped doing? What am I looking for?
‘I am here’ is for many a start of a prayer or meditation. It allows us to take stock of our physical and metaphysical reality. It brings us back to our homes and personal realities that the Internet so eagerly detaches us from.
I am here, writing these words for you while I contemplate the future of this blog, of its value to you, to me and to my family. Part of me feels that the “I am” in “I am here” wouldn’t be me without writing and photographing… but I also wonder who I would be or become if the time that I spend on writing and documenting life would be spent on other things? I guess that my house would be cleaner… or maybe it wouldn’t.
What do we truly want from our lives?
I took a break from writing this blog to fill myself up with good experiences and as I was resting, exploring and nourishing myself and my body I’ve realised how depleting our current lifestyles are – those ways of life that we choose to live in our Western society: choosing walls instead of being outdoors, choosing screens instead of faces, choosing plasticated and pre-prepared food instead of a wholesome self-made dinner, choosing an additional cup of coffee instead of additional two hours of sleep, choosing to race through days instead of experiencing them… The body registers those choices and so no wonder it relentlessly directs us towards other ones through aches, pains, and tiredness – the signals that we should be thankful for as they remove the guilt for wanting to rest, for wanting to go against the mad and pushy current of modern life, for wanting to opt out.
Having a break is a good thing, taking the time to look after ourselves, our health and our family’s health is a good thing. It reminds us what a good life tastes of, how meaningful our interactions and relationships with people are, how our family life should look like, how our spiritual life should be. We begin to recognize again which truth comes from within us and not from adverts or some silly peer pressures. It has got this power to free us from dubious and shallow chatter that we, willingly or not, witness, hear or participate in, from those conversations that take our attention away from what we really love, from what we really believe in, from what we really want to do and what we really want to be like.
I think we really and truly want to be good people. But maybe sometimes we forget that this is the ultimate aim of our existence here, maybe sometimes we are told that there are other things that we should be fighting for and we allow ourselves to be persuaded by this stupid, manipulative and limiting narrative which tries to convince us that no one cares anymore and that the way to go is not to care, which, of course, is a total nonsense. So many people care! So many people give! So many people love! So many people share! So many people give their best out of them! So many people forgive!
I took a break from the fishy narratives and I’ve braced myself with goodness, with wholesome treats of my mum’s thinking and cooking, with refreshing fruit of my dad’s orchard and the calming vastness of the meadows and fields in my Polish village.
It’s been a month of detox for me, detox from false believes that as an individual I cannot make a difference, that I don’t have enough to make a difference, that I don’t have the ability to do it or that the world will go its own way even if I try to go the opposite direction. The world is not a hostile place that mysteriously turns its back on us just because we try, the world responds to our attempts, watches them carefully. It just needs time to be persuaded. The difficulty with doing what you believe in is in that the world, general public or even our friends, are often not persuaded by the process, but by a result. The process takes time and without support it’s difficult to have the endurance, strength and resources to complete the work. There are now so many people that are ‘in that process’ of making the world a better place, of making sure that we live in a cleaner, safer, and more equal planet – we should support them with our time, money or at least a good word. It takes time to create something good, something of value. It’s the process that needs our cheering and patience. The result will speak for itself.
To make the ground firmer
A while ago I travelled to my little village in Poland, to the place where I grew up. Going back to Poland used to mean refreshing my old dreams, things that as a child I promised myself I would do in life; it meant checking up on those aspirations that in my teenage years I drafted for myself, it meant going through some sort of evaluation process that I usually didn’t score that well against or getting a reminder of where I was meant to be going.
The last visit was different. I didn’t hear the voice of my old self – that voice has nothing to say. It was as if I’ve eventually become the person who I always wanted to be or maybe I’ve eventually become happy with who I am and what I am doing. It was as if I’ve pleased my old self and now it’s chapter two… not yet written.
So it’s time for a big move and other life-changing experiences, I thought to myself. It’s natural to crave for them and I do see that many of my close friends are getting ready for those moves so I quite naturally wonder if those changes are also for me. Would I like to move from where I live and from what I am doing here in our little town in the middle of the UK and would I like to start building our family life elsewhere? After a long internal conversation, self-questioning and heart-checking I’ve decided I don’t, at least not now. My heart does not crave for a new-starter-sort-of-change. I think I am passed that step. I am really longing for deeper community, for closer friendships, for stronger engagement in the life of my town and my neighbourhood. I want to be more involved in what’s happening at my son’s nursery and other places that we visit and go to. I think I want laughter and jokes and stories and food eaten and cooked together. I think I want to build bonds and be more present in the life of others. I see many opportunities for my family here. There are many friendly people and many friendly spaces in the Midlands, I just need to learn to drive to them…
Simple and nutritious
There are a few things that I could write about related to bread-making. I couldn’t decide which take to develop for this post so here are a few loose-end thoughts:
Bettering yourself
Making your own bread is always a better option than buying it. You avoid the unnecessary additives, sugars, enzymes and calories and you give your tummy a break from digesting and absorbing them.
Recipe
350g of malthouse flour
200g of white pasta flour
1 full teaspoon of dried yeast
lukewarm (on the cold-ish side) water (400-500ml)
4 tablespoons of olive oil
1-2 teaspoons of bread
I explained the methods a while ago. You can find it here: https://postcardswithoutstamps.wordpress.com/2014/02/10/whats-inside-our-bread/
Explore the season
Of course, it would be difficult to survive on bread alone. So above there’s a photo of some vegetables that are in season. I found them all in my favourite place in Derby Market Hall. Runner beans and the chicory were my favourites today. Which ones do you look forward to?
At the market
Talking about the chicory, here’s an interesting story from my greengrocer: ten years ago he could sell quite a number of boxes of lollo rosso, frisee endive and oak leaf lettuce. Now he is lucky if he can sell two lettuces out of a single tray. The restaurants and cafés used to be big customers for these lettuces but no longer. They instead insist on the small plastic tubs containing mixed leaves. This begs the question – can’t chefs wash and chop lettuce anymore? And are we really happy about having all our food pre-packed in plastic?
Dream
I always dreamt of having a home that smelt of bread. I associate bread-making with strength, not only in its physical sense but also emotional and spiritual sense. I love when recipes are being tried and passed on through generations and when the skill remains in the family and in the community. I also like when fresh pieces of bread are being shared around the table – there is something very beautiful in that gesture of passing the basket around.
(The cheese used in my dish above is called Fontina and it comes from the Valle d’Aosta in Italy. We had a chance to look at how it is stored for maturation over there – see the photo below, more to come soon.)














