photo credit: Randy Son Of Rober

Last week, on Poetry Friday, Carol posted “A Thanksgiving Blessing.” I’m reposting here, as I  love the sentiments expressed, especially -  the “warmth of hope rising,” “May we … speak… of our healings and blessings,” and “May we be with each other… in the light of the present.”

A THANKSGIVING BLESSING

May we be aware not of the things we lack,

but of all that we have.

May we feel not the absence of those we love,

but the presence of those who love us.

May we see not just the harshness of our world,

but the gentleness of its mystery.

May we know not the cold of despair,

but the warmth of hope rising.

May we speak not of our hurts and losses,

but of our healings and blessings.

May we be with each other not in the shadows of the past,

but in the light of the present.

May we bring to our table not judgment, resentment, or anger,

but acceptance, compassion, and forgiveness.

May we remember to feed our spirit by living out of thankfulness.

Anonymous

Who would have thought that Tricia’s suggested poetry stretch (a recipe poem) would be so hard?  For me, the challenge was trying to use the right mix of real recipe language while “cooking up” a poem about something as impossible as “Summer(y) Vacation Ravioli.”

Somehow that name just doesn’t do justice to the wonderfully rich taste, joy and celebration that is authentic Italian cooking. Of which, by the way, I know almost nothing.  Here’s my stretch for the week:

Ravioli di Vacanze Estive

There are countless versions of this dish.
It is not difficult to make the real thing.

Here’s how:

Ravioli

1. Divide your summer into unequal pieces.  Roll each into the smallest portions of days.

2. Lay the days onto a lightly floured surface.  Cover and allow to rest.

3. In a large bowl combine: family and alone time, conversation and silence, things to do and things undone.  Mix until thoroughly blended.

4. Season with bright sun, white clouds, and clear blue skies. Sprinkle in cool breezes and summer showers, according to taste.

5.  Stretch each summer portion into a thin sheet. Cut into squares.  Place a generous tablespoon of free time into the center of each.  Fold the corners over to form a neat triangular pillow.  Gently press out any stress.  Seal the edges.  Cook at a low boil until tender. Remove with a slotted spoon or a skimmer and simmer for 1 minute in sauce.

Salsa

1. To make a sauce, combine any remaining free time with only your most favorite ingredients.  Things such as: a lazy day at the beach, a favorite book, or dinner by candlelight. Stir over medium heat until the sauce begins to bubble.

2. Gently place the ravioli into the pan with the sauce and simmer for 1 minute over low heat.

3. Transfer to a warmed serving platter, sprinkle with a dash of gratitude, and serve immediately.

Make a double batch and save half. You’ll be glad to have that little bit of perfection stored away for a winter day.

*** with a nod to Mario Batali’s “Goat Cheese and Scallion Ravioli”
MOLTO ITALIANO, pg. 234

I am grateful for those “crossed paths.” Each has a part in who I am and who I will become.

Excerpt from You and Your Fellow Man by Albert Einstein

Many times a day I realize how my own outer and inner life is built upon the labors of my fellow human beings, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received and am still receiving.

The first:“Practice an attitude of gratitude.”

There’s nothing new or remarkable about this adage.  It’s just that it happened to come after a particularly challenging day at school and served as a gentle reminder that thankfulness is not always automatic – it takes *practice* and is a mindset worth cultivating.

The next day, during another one of those rough “moments” that teachers know so well, I remembered those words.  “Practice an attitude of gratitude.”  And I did.  I made a conscious decision to be thankful for those wonderfully cute kids in my class who are, after all, only 5 and 6 years old, and for whom the agenda of school and curriculum and “work” are delightful unknowns.

The second piece of advise? “Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”

Again.  Nothing new here.

But timing is everything.  And reading this was like a small nudge not to give up.  To keep pressing on.  With writing.  With hope.  With dreams that are as yet unseen, unrealized.  To believe that success – even of the small, insignificant kind – is just around the corner.