The Twilight Zone

Last night Radha and I went out to eat at East is East, one of our favorite restaurants in Vancouver, which fuses Afghani and East Indian cuisine. We shared a scrumptious dahl soup, a plate of Thai tofu with peppers cooked in a creamy sauce, and saag paneer, with a side of rice and a chapatti. It was delicious, and the staff is fabulous, possessing a remarkable ability to make authentic contact each and every time we dine there.

After our server placed two small complimentary cups of chai on the table, I remarked to Radha, “I feel like I know that girl.”

“You felt it too?” she replied.

“Yeah, I can’t get over this town - I feel like I already know every other person on the street.”

“It’s the strangest thing," she agreed. "I keep getting a steady stream of déjà vu in this city.”

“That reminds me," I said. "I forgot to tell you about my training session on Monday.”

“What’s happened?”

“Well, I saw a woman walk in while I was warming up, and had the strongest feeling of having seen her before.”

“See, it happens all the time,” Radha said.

“Well, five minutes later she walked right up to me and starting talking to me.”

“Wow.”

“It turns out that she's the director of the Callanish Society."

“Jamie Brown?” she remembered.

“That’s her.”

Radha was surprised. “She recognized you?”

“Not only that," I answered. "She also remembered we taught in Florida and said to send you her love."

She smiled warmly and took a sip of her chai. “"I love that they give emotional support to cancer patients.”

"Don't you just love this town. Everyone treats you like family.’ I thought for a moment. “Remember what Spice told us four years ago?”

"I do," Radha replied. "'Sell your house and get out of Florida as soon as possible!'”

“Good thing we met a psychic realtor,” I said. "The bubble burst almost immediately after she told us that.”

“We were fortunate to avoid the crash," she agreed. "It’s almost like we are living in the twilight zone."

As soon as Radha spoke the words, it was as if we heard Rod Serling speaking in the background, and that strange melody ringing in our ears. We paid for our meal and walked back to our car, glancing into the pubs along the way. Men’s hockey was playing on every television set in town, and the stools were filled with patrons garbed in red shirts, drinking beer and yelling.

Welcome to the the Twilight Zone.

Nanny's Spinach Balls

When I moved into the Montreal Integral Yoga Insititute in 1976, there were 8 yogis experimenting with living a vegetarian lifestyle. We came from various backgrounds and countries, and were enthused by the notion of changing our lives for the better. Vegetarians were far and few between in those days, and considered by most people to be either fanatical or unhealthy (or possibly both).

At the institute we we held cooking classes, experimenting with how to change old recipes to those which had no meat, fish or eggs. It was a constant challenge, with sometimes disastrous results - Sister Narani's zucchini cookies will go down in history as one of the most original, creative and uneatable of our healthy alternative treats!

In spite of this, we persevered, and eventually compiled a small cookbook:


While going though my bookshelves the other day, I discovered my worn copy, complete with various stains from many of the recipes inside. One of my favorites was a re-tooled recipe that Betty, my mother-in-law, made for my husband when he first became a vegetarian back in 1971. Gary's grandmother Nanny loved it and served them at her Sunday dinners. These Italian spinach balls were an instant hit:

Enjoy with your favorite red sauce and pasta!

excerpt from Chapter 20: "The Italian Connection"

“You-no-look-a-good. You-look-a-thin-you-no-eat-enough.”

I looked down at my seventy-two year old Italian grandmother, staring back with concern at my thin, pale face. She wore her lime green house dress with the pink diamond pattern, and a small gold crucifix dangled around her neck. Before I could respond, she turned around and motioned with her wooden spoon to follow her to the kitchen. I was instantly overwhelmed by the aroma of eggplant parmesan, spinach, garlic, olive oil and homemade mushroom raviolis. But even more striking was what I didn’t smell. There were no meatballs, veal, or braciole. My mother had told Nanny that she would have to retool her recipes to accommodate my vegetarian diet, but I still found it hard to believe. I turned to close the door and that’s when I saw it: Jesus was watching me.

On the back of the apartment door was a portrait of Jesus Christ pulling open his chest to reveal a sacred heart. I had seen similar depictions often as a child, but what grabbed my attention this time was his gaze rather than the gore. Stepping from side to side, his holographic eyes appeared to blink as they followed my movement. I even squatted down and, sure enough, Jesus lowered his stare. When I stood back up and turned to go into the kitchen, Nanny was there watching.

“You believe-in-a-Christ?”

I smiled to myself and pulled my attention away from the portrait. “I’m sorry, Nanny. I missed that. What did you say?”

She repeated in her heavy accent, “You believe-in-a-Christ?”

I hadn't had dinner with my grandmother in years, and I didn’t want to stir up trouble before we even reached the table. “Yes, Nanny. Jesus was a special man.”

Obviously unsatisfied by my evasiveness, she tensed her short, barrel-shaped body and pointed her stubby index finger at my robe. “But you-a-wear-a-these-orange-clothes?”

“These are the clothes of a meditation monk, Nanny.” I was speaking to myself as much as I was to her. Even though two months had passed since taking my vows, the gown still seemed odd to me.

“These-a-no-made-good. I-gonna-sew-you-a-better-one.” Nanny was always quick to offer critical input, but thankfully her remark was only a sidebar. “What-is-a-this-medication-monk?”

“It’s meditation Nanny, not medication. It’s a person who dedicates their life to the service of God.” I saw the frustrated look in her tired, worn face and cut short my explanation. My grandmother was confused, hurt and disappointed – but she still loved me in her own way. Softening my approach I took her hands in mine. “Never mind, Nanny. Jesus was one of the greatest human beings ever.”

“So-you-believe-in-a-Christ?”

“Yes Nanny, I believe in the Christ.”

She let go of my hand, quickly traced the sign of the cross, and kissed her fingers. “Oh my God, you believe-in-a-Christ! You believe-in-a-Christ!” Repeating this strange mantra gave her an excitement I had never seen before, and taking my hands once more, she pulled them to her cheek in a rare display of loving emotion before leading me to the small dining room adjacent the kitchen.

Table lamps lit the sparse living quarters through plastic-covered shades, and the fabric strewn throughout the apartment told me that she still supplemented her social security income by working as a seamstress for her neighbors. The room pulsed with the sound of more than a dozen cuckoo clocks, and the next two hours were filled with eating and gossip. I listened to her from across the table, alternating my gaze between the plastic flower centerpiece made by Aunt Olga and the swinging tail of the cat above Nanny’s head. She had a whole litany of complaints about her children, grandchildren, and friends, but they all revolved around a single axis – she was lonely.

Before she met my grandfather, Nanny worked as a servant girl for her adoptive family in southern Italy. He brought her to America after the First World War, and they settled in New Jersey, having six children in rapid succession. My grandfather died in a motorcycle accident only a few years later, and my dad became the man of the house at ten years old. Keeping food on the table became Nanny’s primary focus, and the older children had to work to contribute to the family income. What emerged was an ever-shifting picture of feuds and reconciliations, fueled by gossip, anger, and failed expectations. Nanny continued to host family dinners after Sunday mass, but over the years the constant strain alienated most of the family. Now my parents were the only regular visitors in the small assisted living apartment my father helped subsidize.

I took a final bite of my eggplant. “Thank you, Nanny. That was delicious.”

“You-should-a-eat-more. You-look-a-too-thin.”

“No thanks, I'm stuffed.”

She looked at me for a moment. “You gotta-eat-my-wheat-pie.”

Nanny’s voice was halfway between plea and reproach, and I understood that she was showing me love in the only way she knew how. “Okay, Nanny.”

She jumped out of her seat and brought me a large piece on a clean plate. I ate silently while she sat beaming at me.

“You-want-another-piece?” she asked.

“I can't eat another bite. But it was delicious, thank you.”

She hopped up once more, pulled out a box of aluminum foil, and walked over to the remaining pie sitting on the table. “You-bring-a-home-to-your-mother. She-a-likes-this.”

I stood up. “Thanks, Nanny.”

She escorted me to the front door, gave me a stiff hug, and whispered before letting go, “I’m-so-glad-you-believe-in-the-Christ.” There was a gleam in her eye, and it felt good to be a source of joy to a woman who knew so little happiness. I headed for the stairwell, hoping the ten flights down to the street would offset the heavy meal.

Nanny is on the far left, taken at our wedding in 1977

The Sway

In June of 1997 my friend Fred Haas flew me to High Mowing School in the mountains of New Hampshire to teach yoga and meditation to jazz musicians. We had met back in the winter of 1981 when he was a patient at our holistic health center, New Direction In Health, in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont. The position of his body when playing combined with the weight of his tenor sax had tightened his low back.

Fred Haas, founder of Interplay Jazz

Fred, an accomplished musician who played with Pat Metheney, the Duke Ellington Band, Ray Charles, and taught Jazz at Dartmouth College, had created Interplay Jazz an innovative approach to take jazz to a new level. We decided that a holistic experience for jazz musicians would be a good thing. Drugs, alcohol, and junk food were replaced by healthier alternatives, and I offered my Essence Therapy programs as a means to correct the physical imbalances created by playing a musical instrument - the rounded backs of the piano students, the hunched shoulder of a horn player, the stiff neck of the bassist, and the stress caused from performing. Over and over again, I discovered how physically and emotionally challenging playing jazz could be.

Interplay Jazz staff, 2008

Yoga and meditation classes were combined with gourmet organic food, and Fred assembled a stellar faculty that included Matt Wilson on drums, Bob Hallahan and Armen Donelian on piano, Dave Clark on bass, Eric Friesen on cello, George Voland on trombone, and Freddie Bryant on guitar. During the next twelve years we taught musicians how to deal with performance anxiety, physical imbalances caused by playing their instruments, and how to be more creative. It was an advanced improvisational jazz experience, packed with laughter, insight and great music!

Radha and I were novices when we first started working with Fred and the faculty, but all these years later we credit them with our deeper appreciation and love for all that jazz! Working with musicians has been an honor and a delight, and I was able to adapt specific corrective and restorative yoga poses for the dynamic challenges musicians encounter playing their instruments. (I especially loved designing programs for the singers!)

One morning eight years ago, after a late faculty concert the night before, I looked out to see about eighty tired musicians in my hatha class. We needed to get the energy moving, so I put on Jai Uttal and instructed everyone to stand with their legs apart, eyes closed, and breathing deeply. I had them listen, feel, and allow their body to sway along with the music. It was electric!

Over the next fifteen minutes everyone surrendered into the sway. We shifted our weight from one leg to the other, moving our hands and arms through a series of bandhas and mudras. The energy in the room exploded as we gracefully created our 'Yoga Dance'. We danced forward and back, moving our arms and legs in and out of a series of poses, each person tuning into their bodies needs. Then, slowly I had them transition to the floor where we moved through a series of floor poses, after a deep relaxation exercise we spent the next twenty minutes meditating. After we had opened our eyes my dear friend Matt spoke out into the room- Tippin'!

Thus the Sway was born!

Four years later…

We were in Charlottesville Airport when my cell phone rang, it was Matt. He had just finished a performance with his band at Carneige Hall and excitedly described how he had taken the Sway public. He had composed a song, named The Sway, and even had his singers (The Swayettes!) dancing to it as they performed on stage.

All things have a beginning, a middle, and an end, however...

After thirteen years of designing and developing programs along with Fred and Sabrina, we won't be returning to Interplay Jazz in Vermont this year, but...

the Vancouver Jazz Festival is calling.

Rice, Broccoli, and Feta Cheese Sauté

There have been many family and meditation days with our yogic community over our years in Vermont and Florida, and we always enjoy a great lunch after our sadhana (spiritual practices that enable us to hold the feeling of Oneness in our heart) and satsang (a gathering focused on that space of Oneness).

Since we're often blessed with unexpected guests during these meditation days, I'm always on the lookout for the recipe that can be doubled and tripled at the last minute as needed. Prior to the Internet, I counted on cookbooks like Quick Vegetarian Pleasures by Jeanne Lemlin.

Since both Gopal and I are fans of broccoli, the following recipe from her book works really well. More importantly, I've found that even those who are terrified by green vegetables love this combination!

Rice, Broccoli, and Feta Cheese Saute (serves 3)

1 cup brown rice 2 cups water
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup olive oil
4 garlic cloves
2 med. tomatoes, cored, seeded and diced
1 bunch broccoli (5 cups) cut bite-size
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/4 water
1 cup (5 oz) crumbled feta cheese
Freshly ground black pepper

Cook rice while sautéing garlic in olive oil for 2 minutes, then add tomatoes and sauté 2 more minutes. Add broccoli and oregano, toss well, pour in water, and cover the pan. Cook for 5 minutes at medium high heat until broccolli is tender. (Not mushy!)

Remove cover occasionally and toss when checking. Stir in the hot rice, feta cheese and black pepper to taste. Serve immediately and enjoy!

For a pleasing accompaniment, try sliced tomatoes drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette.

Fellowship, Friendship, Acquaintance-ship

On Sunday Radha and I flew home to Vancouver, and took the opportunity to discuss one of the chapters from our book, "You've Got A Friend." Over the course of our thirty-four years together, we've had the privilege to meet many wonderful people. We have also noticed that each of those relationships contained a definite level of intimacy, with that in mind we placed all of our relationships into three categories – acquaintances, friends, and fellowship.

Acquaintances are our associates, those we know on a casual social basis or our many business contacts. This category also includes: students; people we meet on our travels; sponsors and supporters of our Enlightening Relationships programs; even some of our family members are in this category; and finally those individuals and couples that we serve by performing weddings, funerals, and a number of our life transition ceremonies.

The second group includes friends. These are individuals with whom we have a much closer relationship. They are companions who hold similar beliefs and ideas. With these people we have emotional ties, and a shared history that keeps us connected. With our friends we are more relaxed and at ease.

However, with friends, as with acquaintances, there are definite limitations. We are careful not to overstep the parameters of the friendship. If you have a work-friend, for example, you may not feel comfortable sharing problems about finances, or your marriage. If you have a sports-friend you unite within that arena. For us friendship includes a deep respect for each others boundaries. We have friends we have known for many years and although dear to us, we understand that we do not reveal everything about our lives to each other. We love them for who they are. When an individual is only a friend, to us that means that there is a sense of reservation present.

The third category is fellowship. These are the people with whom we are most intimate (in-to-me-see). There are few, if any, reservations with people in this group; we trust each other implicitly. With members of our fellowship we would never allow anything to cause separation between us. Obviously, there are fewer people in this category. We invite and delight in constructive criticism. In our fellowship we have very few 'withholds'. Whenever an issue (self-limiting belief) is activated, we always take responsibility-never blaming the other person! Those in this group take 100% responsibility for their actions. These people posses a high level of integrity- to the best of our ability we are honest and authentic with each other .

Since we have never met anyone who is perfect, in our fellowship we can always count on loving kindness whenever we are out of balance. We do not expect that from friends or acquaintances. Our intention is to always be For Giving, and we can always call on a member of our fellowship when in need.

Please notice that the Mandala above is divided into three circles. The center holds our Fellowship, the second circle contains our Friends and in the outer third circle our Acquaintances reside. These relationship circles represent a fluid ongoing journey into the emotional and rewarding world of inter-personal relationships.

Oh, one last thing, there are no hard and fast rules here. No rigid delineations. There are numerous examples of an acquaintance immediately becoming a friend or a friend entering our fellowship. And it can go in the opposite direction as well. Just recently someone we love dearly choose to remove us from his life. Sad as that was for us, we understood and respected his decision.

This three-tiered system allows us to have realistic expectations with all the many people we encounter in our life.