Perspective

The photo I included in the last post, the clementine half...I just love it. It's so perfectly indicative of a good clementine: fresh, juicy, bright, lush. It's really quite sexy in a swollen lip, youthful sort of way. Then I tilted my screen back about 15 degrees, and the color rendering changed slightly, the sharpness waned, and the once-beautiful photograph lost some of its purity and luster; instead, it looked a bit garish, a bit cheap. And in that moment, I thought about how people's perspectives on any given situation are as similar or different. How the angle at which each of us enter a moment alters our experience of it. I was reminded of this earlier tonight in a different way. Jack couldn't sleep so we were snuggled on the couch reading the book of his choice: Spaceships, a reference type from which, I'm almost embarrassed to say, I learn something new each time we read. In any case, just before he headed back to bed, we read about the shuttle's re-entry to Earth's atmosphere, and, not unlike the angle at which you view the clementine, if the pilot is off by even a hair, the crew doesn't just re-enter with delta-force type drama and flames but, rather, burns up and dies.

The angle matters then, eh?

It does.

In my second round of grad school, I took a course entitled Adult Development. I was drawn to it for a number of reasons, not least that pretty much no one talks about development after adolescence; since I was a mid-20s "adult," engaged and embarking on life in all different ways, I thought why the hell not, this seems relevant. And it was. It was great.

In the most distilled, Cliffs-Notes-on-speed kind of way, this class was about the development of a sense of self in which individuation has truly happened and been completed. The subject -you- finally recognize that the object -any other person with whom you were dealing- is not an enmeshed particle of your own being on whom your very identity rests but rather an other, another individual with his/her own perspectives which might be similar to yours but might also be wildly different. It's in the former scenario that people start to freak out. If, in an argument let's say, you are unable to separate yourself from your sparring partner, unable to see his/her perspective enough to simply validate or moderately understand it, then you are not truly "developed" enough to be a true adult because the real adult is able to maintain distance enough to see and respect both sides.

This is not to say that difficult situations aren't unpleasant for this advanced person; on the contrary, they are. But, the critical difference is that the evolved person doesn't take a horrible beating to his/her sense of self; sensed pain comes from recognizing that subject and object aren't on the same page, not from a feeling that part of you (subject) is being massacred. Long story short, the evolved person can recognize that perhaps the screen is tilted in such a way that resolution and color are skewed, that the space craft just missed the optimal angle for relatively pain-free re-entry.

As the political atmosphere heats up concurrent with diminishing decency, the everyday relationships we all have sometimes sour to grotesque degrees, the holidays and all their familial tensions approach, I hope to remember that perspective, and shifts in it, can make a world of difference, in directions both positive and negative. I hope to keep strength in the face of situations I know to be false, to remain humble in those I know I might have done better, to stay open and willing yet wise and prudent.

Pumpkin cheesecakes

Isn't this darling? I've got 6 and will freeze them for later treats- swear this is the yummiest pumpkin cheesecake recipe ever! I'm now roasting beets for a lovely dinner salad of farro, farmers cheese and a clementine-brown butter dressing (my riff on the salad I enjoyed at The Publican). Overall, the kids are handling house-boundness well. Tomorrow might start to wear on us but at least things are still pretty calm outside and we still have power.

Rain, rain, go away

Well, the rain has started and I guess Sandy is definitely coming. Boo, Sandy, boo! School is cancelled and we're all just hanging around. I made hot chocolate, the boys are begging for a fire in the fireplace -roasting marshmallows!- and T and I keep glancing at each other with the "it's only 7:45am?!" look. Nonetheless, I feel grateful to still have power, which around here in any sort of storm, is never a sure thing. In honor of the approaching maelstrom, T made me a hurricane latte this morning- can't you see the storm a'swirling? It tastes damn good! Yesterday, foodie friend C, brought me a haul of hardy kiwi, aka grape kiwi and kiwi berry. When I say haul, I mean it. Wow. She lives across the street from an amazing gardener; he's more than that. He's an urban farmer with the truest of green thumbs. It's really something, and I have been gifted more than once with his and her generosity. Thank you, thank you! So anyway, I've got this enormous box of these hardy kiwi and we simply won't make it through them by just snacking. I'm going to try and find some recipe for chutney or pickles and will keep you posted.

The hardy kiwi is a fruit with which I was unfamiliar until a year or two ago. They started popping up at the farmers market and a tiny little box usually runs about $5; I've not bought many! The fruit comes from a perennial vine that is native to Japan, Siberia and Northern China. You can imagine that in those cold climes, the plant must be tough, hence the first part of its name- hardy. The fruits are small, needn't be peeled, and to me taste like a sweet kiwi vaguely crossed with a banana. Their innards closely resemble that of a traditional kiwi. If you come across any, try them. They are delicious and it's always cool to come across a new food!