The Inner Pulse of Nature

The hotel where I stayed for a few days is right in the heart of Toronto, surrounded by glass towers, every surface nearby covered with concrete. Yet they have 30 foot high trees growing from the 3rd floor poolside, and they have an open air waterfall garden that is home to sparrows.

As I looked out from my window to the trees down below, I marvelled that they can hold the same wonderful energy as trees 'in the wild.' Surely this strong man-made environment must somehow deplete or taint the natural energy of the trees. I watched them and felt them, to see what differences I felt. What I discovered was that they still carry the deep vital energy and joy of the living tree. Nothing was missing.

On reflection, I realized that trees in the wild are never 100% perfection. They have to deal with forces beyond their control and conditions that may not suit their optimal growth. Even in untouched-by-man wilderness.

I took my observations farther and got a sense of the concrete and metal and glass. I discovered that even the 'non-living' environment of concrete carries some of its previous natural energy – the lime and the stone and the water that made it bring together a man-made energy signature that is very similar to the old, deep unfathomable and wonderful energy of ancient rock. I get the same strong sense of depth in the heart of the city as I do when I drive north of Toronto and stand on the ancient rock of the Canadian Shield.

Maybe it's what we pay attention to that matters. If I'm wishing there was a better concrete-to-tree ratio then I might miss the life of the concrete, I might miss the joy in the trees planted so far from the ground. Perhaps sensing the inner pulse of nature in the heart of the city helps me remember we're not as far from nature as we might think.


(first posted July 2011 for the Starry Night Ezine)

Recipe: Spanish Bar

Spanish Bar 

A recipe that comes as close as I can remember to the cake we got at the A&P when we were kids. Of course memory can not be trusted. This may actually be better.

Ingredients

3/4 c raisins

water

1/4 c oil or melted butter

1/2 c applesauce

1 egg

1/2 c sugar

1/4 c brown sugar

pinch salt

1 c flour

1/2 tsp cinnamon 

3/4 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp nutmeg

1/8 tsp cloves

Frosting:

Combine and beat until creamy

¼ c (57g) butter

1½ c icing sugar

1½ TBSP cream or milk

I tsp vanilla

Pour boiling water over raisins to plump them a bit - 5 min or so, drain and pat dry

Preheat oven to 350° spray or line a loaf pan ( 7.5"x3.5" bottom measure )

Combine flour, baking soda, spices and salt

Combine butter, applesauce & sugars, add egg & mix well

Combine dry and wet ingredients just until combined

Mix in raisins

Pour in pan 

Bake 40-45 minutes


When cool, split horizontally to make 2 layers

Frost between the layers, and stack. Then frost the top. Use fork tines to make a striped mark lengthwise.

Trails

The forest has changed a lot over the years. Trails the kids opened up decades ago grew over once the kids became interested in other things. New trails were made. They too got blocked or overgrown when nobody was using them.

I made some new trails myself. I find it deeply satisfying. I enjoy the air and the scents and the crows and the physical effort of cutting a dead branch and seeing a new way open up.

When we had a bad ice storm at the end of March 2025, a lot of local trees came down. All my usual trails were blocked, some partially, some permanently. I grieved a bit. But I also remembered how the trails have come and gone over the years.

"It's just like life," I thought, as I strugged to shift a fallen branch. Old ways sometimes need to be abandoned or bypassed. Old habits, old beliefs, old relationships. Sometimes we need to find new ways through.

I take it gently when opening new trails. I don't force through anywhere. I'm not making a Roman road. I look for animal trails and use their intelligence to guide me. They always choose the safest and easiest route. It feels like it's aligning with the forest.

There will be other storms in the future. The trails I open today will again be blocked, and new ways will have to be found. But for today, I can delight in turning a corner and seeing something new.

Coconut Cookies

Coconut Chocolate Chip Cookies

This started off as a snickerdoodle recipe and has been a favourite in the house often. They're dangerous.

Makes 24

Ingredients:

1/2 c. (114 g.) butter

1/4 c. white sugar

1/2 c. brown sugar (I use dark brown sugar, not the yellow stuff.)

1 egg

1 tsp. vanilla extract (I use vanilla bean paste)

pinch salt

1 1/4 c. (170 g.) flour

1 tsp. cream of tartar

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1 1/2 c. (155 g.) flaked coconut (I don't care if it's sweetened or not but flaked works nicest.)

3/4 c (150 g.) chocolate chips (I like dark better than semi-sweet or milk for this)

Optional Ingredients:

The chocolate chips were optional at first but not any more.

You could use white chocolate chips instead,

or nuts

or a bit of coconut extract for more flavour.

or roll in coconut

Yes I know. Grams and Cups, but I am Canadian. We use Celsius instead of Fahrenheit and Pounds instead of Kilograms. We're all over the place.

Directions:

- cream butter and both sugars together

- add egg and vanilla and salt and mix well

- in another bowl combine dry ingredients: flour, tartar, soda

- add dry mixture to the butter mixture and mix well

- mix in the chocolate chips and coconut

- I divide the dough into 24 pieces at this point, roll the pieces gently and place them in the fridge to cool for at least 30 minutes.

- heat the oven to 400° F

- set out 2 baking sheets, and divide the chilled batter 12 to each sheet

- bake 7 1/2 to 8 minutes, one cookie sheet at a time, and rotating half-way through so they bake evenly.

Heart of Gold

Today's mantra: "She has a heart of gold"

I'm using this because we have a decades old unresolved thing that may never be resolved. Usually, when my attention turns to her, my mind clicks in, attempting to develop better understanding or approaches or generally to fix this thing that is not ready to be fixed or may never be fixed. But by using this mantra, I can cut through all that think-y malarkey to what really counts. And let my energy steep in the truth of it. She really does. And my heart can be satisfied with that. 

From the Archives (Part 2)

From the Starry Night archives: some old stories or blog posts I found that, even if a bit outdated, seemed fitting for today's times. Here they are in no special order:

We Need Dancing Shapes

"In the past, people would stare into the fire for hours when they wanted to think. Or stare at the sea. The endless dancing shapes and patterns would reach far deeper into our minds than we could manage by reason and logic.

— Douglas Adams"

More than ever, it seems, we do need dancing shapes and quiet moments to lift us and carry us.

Vardøger

"For years my daughter and I experienced vardøger when my husband, Tom, was about to come home from work. We would hear his car in the lane about 10 minutes before it actually arrived. Since we never knew when he'd be finished work or arrive, this signal made it easy to shift from one activity to another during that 10 minute interval."

Remembering these times opens me up a bit more to the joy of mysteries.

Should-less Days

"'Should' is a word we use too much. It always signals an inner conflict between the expectations around us (even our own) and what life wants us to do. Maybe by giving ourselves more should-less days, we can learn to trust that flow of life."

When I hear myself saying I should or I should not do something, I ask myself if this is really true any more. It's usually not.

Janet's 5 Rules of "NO"

"No, without apology.

No, without explanation.

No, without leaving room for negotiation.

No, without fear of consequences.

No, without hard feelings."

It's still hard for me to say 'no' when it'd be wiser to. But I am getting better at it.

Simple Human Pleasure

"The iridescent colours of a bird in the sunlight, a sweet cinnamon scent from the kitchen, the shocking delicious taste of a cold beer on a scorching hot day, the melody of church bells carried across the fields. These are all pleasures of the senses, pleasures of our very humanity. And they all give our spirit a lift. Our body is not a shell that encases our spirit, it is the living breathing presence of our spirit. And our spirit delights in delight."

We are in and of this world. Let's take joy in it.

Support

What do we do when the usual supports are missing?

The daily dog videos that warmed my heart are now spotty.
Family moved away just when his health started to fail.
Forest trails got obliterated by storms.
Many valued news sources are no longer trustworthy.
When these are gone what's left?

Gratitude.

We see our blessings and take time to acknowledge them.
We find peace in the everyday.
We find beauty in the simple.
Other supports will open up.
Friends we didn't know we had will step in with kindness.
Things change.