‎" we could be one word away from a major paradigm shift in consciousness" -Martha Ward

We are biting at a pie campaign, a peace movement, a recording and rejoicing in a communal history of familiar unification s through our taste buds, memorized aromas and unmatchable textures. Our series of round table discussions in the Heath House at Project Row Houses was energetic. A table of pies laid out on the table, our lady "keepers of the flame" images hung large in the air and the walls were chalked up with words from the many people whom have passed through the door to explore in this space. I room of inspiration, discussion and remembering.

Heath House: Apron String Conversations (Round One) April 23rd

Image: Chef Tarsha. March 2011

Houston's Project Row House is where an incredible collaboration is blossoming. Project Hearth House is in its first installation. Luanne Stovall, Toni Tipton-Martin, Meeta Morrison, Ellen Hunt, Chrystal Granger and Myself, a artist/designer, a culinary journalist, three architects and myself.

Todays Event!

HEARTH HOUSE: Apron Strings Conversations

at Project Row Houses. Houston, TX

In conjunction with Round 34: Matter of FOOD, Hearth House (Art House #2515 Holman) will host two roundtable Conversations.

Please join us as Hearth House hosts two roundtable Apron Strings Conversations. “Secret Ingredients” stirs together the memories and secrets of favorite recipes, which warm hearts, bridge generations, and fan the flames of community. “Apron Strings” also explores the unifying relationship between cooking at the hearth and sewing for survival and the way these activities uplift of the soul.

Participants include the women of Lilly Grove Missionary Baptist Church, who are participating in an oral history culinary project with the University of Houston, and a photo documentary project with Tahila Mintz for Hearth House.

Insights also will be shared by quilters from The Jubilee Quilt Circle and members of the 3rd Ward community.

Pie will be served for guests, courtesy of local bakers.

see images of the house set up at http://www.facebook.com/media/set/fbx/?set=a.10150219655300656.352193.526495655&l=84417c16cb

AND MORE at LIKE at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Hearth-House-at-Project-Row-Houses/219908454689905?sk=info#!/pages/Hearth-House-at-Project-Row-Houses/188242797880283

Howard Zinn

" To be hopeful in bad times is not foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact, the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage and kindness... what we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst. it will destroy our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places- and there are so many- where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of the world in a different direction... And if we do act, in however small a way we don't have to wait for some utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live in defiance of all that is bad around us, is its self a marvelous victory"- Howard Zinn

Parts of a long amount of quotes listed on rethinkingschools.org from the day of his passing this January. I had pieced it to read to a group of High School students from Spain that were growing and being challenged as they built in Dakar, Senegal that week. The words, as many of this man, are well worth repeating.

http://www.zinnedproject.org/ a link for classroom use or anyone else interested The Zinn Education Project

bare foot

I want to be where
your bare foot walks,

because maybe before you step,
you'll look at the ground.
I want that blessing.

-Rumi

smelling the seven roses

"And we confirmed once again that those who do not sing cannot even imagine the joys of singing."

Today passing, lounging in the deep wine valour and soft satin cloak my mother wore when she was my age. In the depths of another Garcia Marquez novel interrupted thought for food preparation and the correct time for taking my expanded library of pills and tinctures for healing, now at seven bottles lining the ironing board in the kitchen. Lutui come and goes. He curles up to get a tummy rub or encircles my chair to be sure I am noticing and giving proper attention to the moment I'm in and more specifically him.

I was to be on the road over a week ago. Continuing my fluid landing in the states by visiting many states in a few months, many family members and many trees. My plans, if I can propose to make such things, were to be still after these coming months. Maybe some time at Kripalu, Omega or with a teacher keeping myself "outside" of myself and giving myself the space and environment to "let the weeds grow" like farmers allow for thier land every 7 years. A meditation was pulling at me, to breath deeply and get a rythem in place.

This is not something to plan for. As it seems I have my meditation. It exists without judgment or argument behind my lens. Film, not digital, is essential for letting go of knowing and being still... has been prescribed, along with the bottles, from my doctor. Resting, stillness, joy, clean eating. Seems just what I needed. The slow down that is work to listen to in my mind has been directed from the other side of the counter...And on my back porch I stare at the trees and REALLY enjoy the light.

A bike ride with my Leica slung over my chest, black and white roll inside and a smile on my face. So glad to be back with my best friend, in an environment where we live together just occasionally put aside for a tree that needs my large format instead. My daily rides are only matched by the daily walks with mom. These weeks are being enjoyed and learned from.

Some Ethiopia images

Miami Dolphin spring break 2003

Strange I try to write our story. Just for me to have. A love story yet I find the words, I have so come to play with, are lacking on this one. Maybe its not over. So here is one I wrote...maybe not love but timing and location and something else …
The diversity of love by a woman with a bad memory…

Spring break filled with saying goodbye. The woman, core backbone of our family is on Hospis in the condo. The man, who didn’t show tenderness, sitting in deep emotion and processing with my mother by his side and me over her bed. I am loving, confused and photographing our angel.

A friend has come for me…to spend a few days on the beach and at her moms. Next door to Celine Dions and then to South Beach…to be some proper Spring Break…meet up with a crew of her friends at the hotel..and find myself alone one phone call. Sorting plans to get picked up and head back to the condo and airport.

I walked and the clouds moved. Grandmother there saying goodbye, saying hello, as they splash in the pool. I wander to the beach. Feel the water as I wade in, the pressure so much and I lay back to float. The rain has started to come down softly and I close my eyes as I allow all the water to wash over me. All the warm water, my tears washed into the sea and I am flying. Heavy and light and lifted out of the water, I am in the arms of a man. As I open my eyes I watch concern turn to a smile and he asks if im alright. I nod, he is not placing me down but I am still at peace and he does some introduction, Miami pro football player. He asks if he can support me. I can’t remember more. I close my eyes again, in my state of collapse the support brings grounding in some stability. I am laying back with the rain falling and breathing. Time passes slowly. Still with the water everywhere in motion, freeing me. I lifted my head and rolled back into the water and stood facing the quite stranger that needed no explanation. A soft small kiss of rainfall shared and I turned towards the beach and walked. Towards the people, to await my ride, to join the family, to take our flight …and to her say never goodbye.