tradition

Celebrating Freedom – Day 965

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Screenshot of Ring of Fire in Gulf of Mexico – Photo: L. Weikel (video CBS)

Celebrating Freedom

Interesting holiday we Americans (technically, we citizens of the United States) are celebrating this weekend (and particularly tomorrow, July 4th). The birth of our nation; the anniversary of the day we declared our independence from Great Britain. We’re supposed to be celebrating freedom and – perhaps paradoxically – unity.

As we approach our country’s 245th birthday tomorrow, I think it’s fair to say we’re at a crossroads of greater consequence than we were at just eight months ago. Don’t get me wrong – November 3rd (but more accurately, the election of 2020, since all votes weren’t cast on a single day in November) was of enormous consequence. I shudder to think what shape our country would be in had the election not been won by President Biden. (And I base that opinion on the shape we were in and the prospective devastation we were facing had circumstances simply stayed on track with the prior four years.)

But because of the unprecedented and shameless dissemination of propaganda across pretty much every expression of traditional and social media, and the confluence of this manipulation with a toxic combination of fear, hopelessness, cynicism, and despair, we’re a country teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

Last Year

Last year’s 4th of July celebration felt drastically different than any I’d celebrated up to that point. A major reason it felt so vastly different was because my nuclear family didn’t get together with a branch of our extended family, in Connecticut, with whom we’d celebrated the 4th of July holiday for at least 30 years, possibly even more.

The reason, of course, was Covid-19. It was simply too much risk for too little gain when we loved each other enough to sacrifice one year so we’d all have plenty to spend together in the future.

Instead, as I wrote in last year’s post (“New Normal – Day 601”), Karl and I stayed close to home. Lucky for us, M and T live close by and we were able to revel in a fireworks extravaganza that rivaled almost anything I’d ever seen before. (Thanks to several of their neighbors engaging in what almost appeared to be a competition on who could shoot off the biggest and best for the longest amount of time. The by-product of this apparent rivalry was astounding.)

But that sense of a widening gap between the haves and have-nots was palpable. And sadly, in spite of Joe Biden’s victory in November, that gap is rapidly becoming a chasm that could swallow us whole.

Chasm of Fire?

Ever since the election, but especially since the insurrection of January 6th, it’s become harder and harder to bridge the chasm and find any principle or value that moves us deeply enough to find unity. And it feels bitterly ironic to me that this is what our country was founded upon: Unity to protect our diversity.

Now we can’t even unite ourselves to harness our substantial wealth of intelligence, resources, creativity, and determination to stop the imminent destruction of the planet upon which we all live. We are literally left gaping at the image of a virtual Eye of Sauron swirling in the Gulf of Mexico while we distract ourselves from it and power grid failures by vowing to plow more money into building a border wall. Goodness knows we need to keep brown skinned people out of our country while 12 story walls of condominiums crush their inhabitants because (and we all know this is true) it was going to cost too much money to make the necessary repairs.

Every day it feels like our fundamental values are growing further and further apart. I worried last year that we might not even be celebrating “Independence Day” this year. While technically we still are, would any of us have believed we’d be here, right now, with the memory of January 6th seared into our hearts and minds?

Haunting Questions

How many more of those can our 245 year old republic weather? What can we do to rekindle (or kindle in the first place) a true and sincere respect, if not love, for those with whom we share this country and this planet?

Maybe, as many find themselves resuming their old traditions of family gatherings (because Covid-19 is being taken seriously and hopefully they’ve been vaccinated) we’ll be inspired to find answers to these haunting questions and find unity in our diversity.

Storm Before the Rainbow – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-146)

Aunt Grace’s Cake: The Recipe – Day 337

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment

 

Aunt Grace’s Cake – Photo: L. Weikel

Aunt Grace’s Cake: The Recipe

I hear you! I’m listening!

It was only a matter of time, I suppose. I’ve posted many photos of my valiant efforts to recreate the (extremely unconventional) birthday cake of my childhood, which I refer to as ‘Aunt Grace’s Cake,’ not only here in Ruffled Feathers, as part of my 1111 Devotion, but also in   a number of posts over the years on FB.

I say it’s an extremely unconventional birthday cake because, let’s face it: how many little kids would like – or at least express a preference for – a walnut torte? Walnuts really are an acquired taste. (The icing, on the other hand, is absolutely drop-over amazing.) So I actually think my mother was quite crafty in how she marketed the specialness of this cake to me as a little kid. She had great taste!

Brief History

As best as I can tell, this recipe is Hungarian. It was brought here to the United States not written on paper anywhere, but rather etched in the memory of Grace Jancosko*, who immigrated here from Hungary as a child with her family.

Aunt Grace was not actually related to me by blood, but she was a decades long good friend of my mother’s, and thus our whole family. Over those years, she generously shared the delicacies of her heritage, a partial list of which includes walnut torte (a/k/a Aunt Grace’s Cake), 23 layer cake, stuffed cabbages, kiffels (Christmas morning wasn’t Christmas without a tin of Aunt Grace’s kiffels getting passed around lovingly – with an eagle eye that no one took too many!), and a dumpling soup that was mouth wateringly delicious.

I know I’m forgetting some of her other dishes. And I know my brother and sisters had affectionate nicknames for some of those dishes, which I’m not quite sure I remember. I think our family called the dumpling dish ‘globby soup’ or something like that? All I remember is that it tasted like comfort-food heaven.

Cut to the Chase

Because I know from reading the comments I’ve seen not only on FB but also via email and text messages I’ve received, there’s a clamoring for Aunt Grace’s recipe. Thus, I will cut to the chase and offer you the recipe as I received it, I believe from one of my sisters.

Aunt Grace’s Cake (“Walnut Torte”)**

12 egg yolks (set aside the whites for later use)

1 lb. powdered sugar

2 tsp. baking powder

1 lemon rind, grated

3 Tbsp. bread crumbs

1 lb. walnuts (generous pound)

Mix first five ingredients together with a mixer, then add walnuts and mix well.

Beat egg whites until stiff, then gently fold into the batter until well mixed.

Divide mixture evenly between 3 round pans that have been greased and floured.

Bake at 350 degrees approx. 25-30 minutes. (Start checking with a wooden toothpick after 20 minutes. When toothpick comes out clean, it’s ready.)

Icing:

3 eggs

½ lb. (2 sticks) sweet (unsalted) butter

1 lb. powdered sugar

3 – 3 oz. bars of premium (34-38%) milk chocolate (I prefer Black & Green or Icelandic), melted in a double boiler

Note: I use organic versions of all the ingredients.

________________________________________________________

Fun Fact: Until last night, I never realized that Hungary is known for its exceptionally high quality walnuts. It only makes sense, then, that a recipe such as this one would have made the trip across the ocean and survived to this day.

_________________________________________________________

*Aunt Grace’s last name, Jancosko, was her married name. I do not know her maiden name, and I apologize for that.

**The recipe I have copied down from my sister also refers to this as ‘Dyos Torte.’ However – that same name is also applied to the ’23 layer cake,’ which is a veritable work of art. I’m not sure which cake technically is known as a Dyos Torte.

The recipe for the ‘23 layer cake’ is almost identical to this recipe except there are NO WALNUTS and a slight variation in the other ingredients. The recipe calls for DOUBLING the icing ingredients (YUM). But: I’ve never made it.  So If there’s a request for that recipe, I’ll provide it; but since I’ve never made it (and can’t even offer you a photo), I’m going to hold off for now.

I extend my deepest appreciation to the memory of Aunt Grace, and hope, by sharing this recipe, I’m honoring and doing justice to the love and wonderful memories she provided me and my family by sharing her culinary heritage.

Please let me if you give this a try!

Not much left – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-774)

Best Easter Egg EVER – Day 160

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Karl’s egg 19 April 2014 – Photo: L. Weikel

Best Easter Egg EVER

I’ve always loved Easter.

The memories I have of Easters growing up are not whizz bang affairs. In fact, it’s funny – when I think back, as I sit here, trying to decide what memories I might share that could convey why my heart always seems to lift when I think about Easter, I realize how magical my thinking was…even back then. It wasn’t necessarily the literal stuff of Easter that I loved, it was what lived in my imagination.

I loved hunting for Easter eggs. Oh my goodness. Not the public hunts, put on by schools or churches. The hunts I cherish are the ones that took place in the living room of the farmhouse I grew up in.

My brother Henry is 16 years older than I. My mother would let him go out to see his girlfriend (and eventual wife), Diane, on the night before Easter only if he promised to come home and ‘help the Easter Bunny’ hide the hard boiled eggs I’d dyed that night.

The Hunt for the Eggs

I swear that was the best part about Easter. Finding the eggs that The Rabbit hid (as she came to be known in our household – Karl’s and mine – as our guys were growing up) was a challenge that had the potential to occupy me the whole day. Inevitably, there would be one or two eggs that were so well hidden that it would literally take me hours to find them. Sometimes my brother (if he could remember) would have to play that game of “warmer” to help me.

Truth be told, I think he probably had no recollection of where he’d hidden them and was only sending me on a wild goose chase anyway. At least a couple eggs over the years weren’t discovered until months (or perhaps years) later. They were completely desiccated by the time they were accidentally found, so who knows how long they’d excitedly waited to fulfill the dream of all true Easter eggs, of being reunited with their colorful siblings, only to wither away, forgotten and alone? Yeah. Sad.

The magical thinking that really made Easter special for me, though, is the image I’ve always carried in my head of the true Easter Rabbit. For the life of me, I don’t know why the thought of this creature didn’t scare me, especially since I cannot stand people in costumes or masks. I think it may be because I had such a sense that “she” was in fact a real Rabbit – just larger than normal – not a person dressed up as a bunny. But…wow.

The Reason for My Connection to ‘The Rabbit’

You’ll never believe it, but I just realized that on some level, my sense of and connection to the Easter Bunny was a precursor to the literal experiences with power animals that I would start having some 25 years later. (I’ve honestly never thought about it in this context before this moment. Wow.)

Another reason Easter is a favorite holiday is because I was born on Easter Sunday. So periodically, over the years, my birthday would again fall on Easter. But it always felt special, somehow, that I’d managed to arrive on that day (even if the day was nearly literally over by the time I arrived).

And I’ve always been partial to all the other babies (bunnies, chicks, lambs, pansies, robins, ducklings, piglets, daffodils) that abound in the springtime (hence, Easter-time), too. Indeed, even at church (raised Catholic), the concepts of death, rebirth and ascension appealed to me.

Anyway, it’s always felt like Easter was ‘my’ day – no matter when it fell on the calendar.

The Tradition – and Magic – Continued

Growing up, my kids knew my delight in Easter, and hopefully shared it, too. I’d even commandeered my eldest son, Karl, to help ‘The Rabbit’ hide the eggs for his younger brothers a couple of years, just like my mom had recruited my brother.

So imagine this: On April 19, 2014, my two adult sons (and Tiffany – who was meeting us for the first time!) were indulging me by coloring eggs on ‘Easter eve.’ I’d placed a pristine white egg in a cup of boiling water with red and blue food coloring and a dash of white vinegar (purple being my favorite color) and just let it sit. I wanted to see just how deep a hue of purple I could make this egg.

After it sat in the dye for quite a while, I dipped my tablespoon into the cup and raised it to the surface. The egg was covered with random bubbles, but it looked like it had ripened to a really deep and satisfying purple. I placed it carefully in the cardboard egg carton with all the rest.

We Could Feel His Presence

Mind you, this was two and a half years after Karl had died. He was, as he still is, thought about and talked about frequently. But we were especially reminiscing about prior Easters with him as we introduced Tiffany to our traditions. We could feel not only how much we missed Karl but how much Karl was missing us.

Imagine, then, our goosebumps and stunned expressions when I picked up my purple egg and looked at it carefully. Not only was his name clearly written on the egg, but it also looked like it was written on a background of stars. And even more amazing, the letters of his name actually look like his style of printing. Random bubbles?

As we’re fond of saying: YCMTSU.

Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Springtime, Happy Rebirth and Renewal.

Believe.

(T-951)

P.S.: We love you, Karl. And again, a hearty well done on that manifestation!

Sacred Responsibility – Day 108

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Don Sebastian blessing my mesa and me in February of 2012

Sacred Responsibility                       

I’ve cut my writing time short this evening. Indeed, I’m lucky I looked up from my books and notes and laptop to check the clock because I’d become so totally immersed in my work that I’d lost all track of time. The catalyst for my intensity was the need to fulfill my sense of sacred responsibility.

I’ll be speaking to a university class tomorrow about Andean shamanism, and more specifically, the Q’ero tradition, which is the lineage into which I’ve been initiated.

In spite of the fact that I’ve been engaging in and living (to the best of my abilities) the teachings, rituals, and ceremonies of this lineage for 15 years, I nevertheless feel like a neophyte. I never know enough for my own comfort to consider myself a worthy messenger of this tradition.

It’s probably connected to some weird thing I have in my own head about teaching – such as one must not only be an expert on the subject but also impeccable in your execution of what you know.

Hmm. Just writing that belief out (which is akin to saying it out loud) gives me pause.

A Pretty High Bar

Nevertheless, it is my curse. Oh wait – what do I say about being cognizant of our use of words? It is my blessing. Ha ha. OK. That’s over the top. It is my challenge. Yes, that works.

Ever since I was asked to speak, I’ve been alternately pondering and fretting over what I would say. My inclination is to go for the intellectual approach. You know, outline various aspects of Andean cosmology. Get into the facts. Sound like an anthropologist.

Be detached and clinical.

So I pull out all my books and I pore over the notes I took in a myriad of courses and trainings and sitting with paqos (what shamans are called in Peru). And I get myself all caught up in conveying everything I’ve been taught just so. The reason I get so caught up is because of how much I care. Acting as an ambassador of any tradition is a sacred responsibility. But I honestly feel that the responsibility is even greater when I am speaking about a tradition that I was not born into, but rather, welcomed into.

Be Real

My response to inundating myself in all of my notes and rereading passages from books is two fold:

First, I become anxious and overwhelmed with getting everything just right.

But secondly – and perhaps most importantly, I remember the lush deliciousness of this path. Yes, I realize there are many things I’ve forgotten – or at least aspects I don’t consciously think about in my day-to-day life. Immersing myself in what I’ve been taught makes me yearn to absorb it even more.

And the ultimate realization is that I must simply show up and be real.

The Q’ero in particular are astonishingly generous in sharing their teachings. And that is probably the single best aspect of this lineage that I can share: their generosity of spirit. Their astonishingly open and generous hearts.

And so, while I will be armed with lots of intellectually oriented facts tomorrow, my perspective will be embodying what I’ve been shown by the Q’ero themselves: generously sharing what I have personally experienced walking the path of heart that is the Andean Way. That’s my sacred responsibility.

(T-1003)

Tradition and Evolution – Day Forty Four

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment

Tradition and Evolution

Overall, this Christmas was a grand experiment in shifting from one way of being to another. It felt like we were embarking upon a true transition from ‘the way we’ve always done things’ to ‘a new way.’ Just like any transition, it had its rough patches.

I’d say most of that evolution centered around the family ‘meal,’ which is probably where the vast majority of ‘tradition’ resides in many households.

Most of us in the family eat meat, but rarely. Others of us, however, eat meat never. And then there are those of us who not only don’t eat meat at all, but also do not eat anything even remotely associated with animals. No butter. No milk. No cheese. No eggs. Yes, there’s now a vegan in our midst.

Turkey Sandwiches Remain a Priority

We checked in before the holiday, and determined that turkey was still a hoped-for agenda item with those of us who still appreciate the sacrifices of our feathered brethren. Truth be told, it’s the turkey sandwiches on the horizon that are the real lure here. Piled high with stuffing savory and juicy from cooking in the bird, the turkey slices will nestle between a layer of cranberry sauce and mayonnaise, all held together with a multi-grain, seeded bread. Oooh yeah.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for those who no longer (or never did) enjoy the unparalleled goodness of leftover turkey sandwiches. But alas, that means there’s more for us who pander to our inner Neanderthal. (Which, parenthetically, 23andme tells me is part of my genetic makeup.) (Yeah, it explains a LOT.)

I have to admit, though, in preparing the mashed potatoes both the ‘old’ way and the ‘new,’ the difference would be something I could evolve toward. I’d miss the buttermilk and butter. But it could work.

The green bean casserole without the mushroom soup? Satisfied my vegan but not my vegetarian. I don’t know if I can make that leap yet either.

At Least My Stuffing Is Vegetarian-Approved

My stuffing is vegetarian-approved even when prepared as history dictates. It’s just the portion that cooks inside the bird that’s taboo. So that’s an easy compromise: that especially juicy stuffing can go on my turkey sandwich; thanks.

All, in all, though, I probably could have stepped up my game as far as the ‘protein’ I prepared for my ‘Vs.’ I thought sautéing some vegan sausages with onions and red peppers would make a nice addition to the stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans, but the expressions on their faces said, “Meh.”

I’ll work on that for next year.

And who knows? As our lives evolve and we witness the cataclysmic results of accelerating climate change day in and day out, it would not be outside the realm of possibility to imagine us going at least totally vegetarian by next year. Probably not vegan; not yet.

Although, I suppose, stranger things have happened.

As a family, we’re game to honor and appreciate our traditions while also exploring ways we can evolve and expand the way we walk forward into the future.

All that really matters is that we do it together.

(T-1067)