Birthday Wishes Across the Stars: For Brother Mike

Posted on April 9, 2024 by cattalespress under a spiritual life, Aging, Angels on Earth, Dealing with special occasions, Death, disciplined non-conformist., Do Not Be Afraid, Dreams, Embrace Change, Faith, Faith Muscle, Faith-O-Meter, Family, Good over evil, Gratitude, grief, grief relief, Grieving, Growing Up, Healing of Memories, hope, I need a miracle, inspiration, inspirational messages, joy, Living through death, Living through personal crisis, Long-Term Coping Strategies, Meeting your needs, Natural above Normal, NEVER EVER GIVE UP!, one day at a time, Positive Change, positive words of encouragement, Relationships, seasons, Self-Care, Self-Compassion, self-discovery, self-value, Sibling Death, Soul Food, spirit-filled life, spiritual, spiritual inspirational thoughts, spiritual transformation, Struggles, The God Channel, To thine own self be true, transparency, trauma, Validate Your Feelings, Veterans, Vulnerability, zen

Not much different from today, the 70s boomed with a culture of body shaming, fueled by a relentless push to sell magic formulas for a beauty standard that was as warped as the false eyelashes and diet pills I clung to. The “miracle pills” whittled me down to a frail 102 pounds, a desperate attempt to mold myself into something peer-approved pretty.

You, on the other hand, Mike, were the pragmatist. Your words were few, but each one landed with the weight of your well-worn cowboy boots sinking into the good earth. I can still picture the glint in your eyes, even then, as a young man, when you asked me as I batted my extended lashes, “What ever happened to natural?”

Natural? The concept flew over my bleached-blonde hair.

Turns out, dear bro (and maybe you knew this all along), I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. It took me five whole decades to finally grasp the meaning of “natural.” It wasn’t just about rejecting the miracle products and noise from greedy marketers, but also the well-meaning (but often misguided) voices of family and friends anchored by their faith (or traditions), trying to mold me into their own images.

Finally following your lead, I, at last, retreated inwards, finding solace in the quiet and contentment in the slow burn of a candle. This newfound space helped free me from external manipulation, my decisions stemmed from the deepest well of my being – my soul, (sadly, a missed opportunity for my son). In this way, a new understanding of myself blossomed within me, carried on the wings of redemption, faith, and the quiet hum of grief. It was a womb-like homecoming – a return to the essence of who I was always meant to be. Like the tulips, daffodils, and hyacinth that pushed through the warmed earth, bold and bright as jewels. In the process, I embraced myself. Judgment and distortions disappeared. A sense of liberation bloomed – a feeling as light and airy as the warm breeze that chased away the last of winter’s chill.

This personal freedom extended to giving others space. I let go of my ego. Of “fixing” prayers and forced agendas. Life, I found, often worked in mysterious ways, guided by a hand far more divine than mine and impossible to understand fully.

So, dear brother, thank you for planting the seed of the concept of natural in my heart. These last two years, in particular, are showing me that the overdue path for my true self is now under construction. Looking back, I see the past woven intricately together, not by chance, but by a divine hand that holds mine with compassion.

Specifically, since January 2023, I have lost over 35 pounds, all on my own without any drugs or shaming or a doctor’s fearful words. Out of the blue, I “happened” to have fallen upon the program NOOM (disclaimer: I’m not affiliated with them), and it has changed my life.

It wasn’t about quick fixes – NOOM focuses on behavior change and mental well-being, which resonates with me. NOOM’s app uses science and personalization to track food and lifestyle choices, promoting healthy weight loss and long-term habits, which I’ve incorporated into my life.

Sharing my initial progress with only one person backfired when they dismissed my one-pound weight loss after a month on NOOM. But I tuned out the negativity and continued to focus on myself. Every pound since then feels like a major victory on this amazing journey. Ultimately, losing weight isn’t just about the numbers on the scale. It is part of my powerful journey of self-discovery, because, as I already mentioned, I alone have claimed what was so loving and freely given to me all along: my authentic self. (While it looks like the naysayer is headed for a knee replacement, I am not, at least not at the moment!)

Just as amazing, too, and completely by happenstance, today also marks my one-year anniversary of becoming a pescetarian! There was no pressure, no specific date in mind – it just happened. (Plus, this time, I kept my secret to myself, secured in my judgment-free zone!) And that’s when I realized the most profound aspect of this journey: sometimes, the most meaningful changes come about organically, like a nudge from a higher power that reigns over all the super human powers.

My inspiration for this eating shift had been brewing for a long time, fueled in part by your gentle spirit and by my amazing daughter, Alexandra. She’s been a vegetarian since she was just eight years old, and at 29, she’s still a passionate advocate for animal welfare. Witnessing her compassion has brought the joy of spring to me every season, her dedication is always rubbing off on me. Then there’s my niece who’s poured her heart into working at an animal sanctuary early every Sunday morning for over a year now.

From the start, I felt a deep conviction about my dietary path. Then, just a few weeks in, a fantastic article in the New York Times, Peter Singer: Fix Your Diet, Save the Planet, practically fell into my lap, seemingly confirming my intuition. Since I gave up eating animals, even on days when the world feels like a relentless battle, I go to bed knowing I’ve made a positive impact, however small.

So, big brother, you were right – “natural” truly is beautiful. Maybe that’s why I find such joy in aligning myself with the universe’s flow, dancing with it rather than resisting, keeping my world free from the super human powers that get in the way and cause an accident.

Today, on what would have been your 78th birthday, I celebrate not only your life, but also the newfound vibrancy in mine. Who knows, maybe next year on your birthday, I’ll discover another divinely inspired way to move through the world that can sometimes feel so serious, a joyful expression in your memory.

But for now, I raise a glass (sparkling water, please!) to you, brother, to my incredible daughter and niece, and to the life I’m so grateful to share with them and all of you. Let’s weave faith into the unexpected twists and turns of life, and see what beautiful and unique tapestry emerges. Regarding that natural process, I’m profoundly grateful. Now, I can simply rest and watch the masterpiece unfold.

Happy Birthday, bro!

A Space of its Own

Posted on March 19, 2024 by cattalespress under a spiritual life, acceptance, disciplined non-conformist., Embrace Change, Faith, Faith Muscle, Faith-O-Meter, Family, Good over evil, Gratitude, grief, grief relief, Grieving, Growing Up, Healing of Memories, hope, I need a miracle, inspiration, inspirational messages, joy, Letting Go, Living through death, Living through personal crisis, Long-Term Coping Strategies, Loss of a Child, Meeting your needs, mindfulness, Natural above Normal, NEVER EVER GIVE UP!, one day at a time, Positive Change, positive words of encouragement, rituals, Sacred Space, Safe Space, seasons, Self-Care, Self-Compassion, self-value, Sibling Death, Simple Pleasures of Life, Sing a new song, sorrow, Soul Food, spirit-filled life, spiritual, spiritual inspirational thoughts, spiritual transformation, Struggles, Suicide Loss Survivors, The God Channel, To thine own self be true, trauma, Unsung Heroes, Veterans

As a child raised in the Ukrainian Catholic Church, I spent countless hours participating in rituals. Crossing into adulthood, however, these memories transformed into associations with aching knees from kneeling, a stiff back from standing for what felt like an eternity, and a constant glance at the clock’s hands that seemed frozen in time, like a nagging hemorrhoid.

Despite my aversion to the rigid structure of my religious childhood memories, as an adult, I found myself drawn to the role of Cubmaster and leading my son’s Cub Scout troop for several years. While vastly different, the organization provided a surprising sense of comfort and familiarity through its own set of rituals. This experience reinforced the idea that while we may evolve throughout life, fundamental human needs, like the desire for connection and belonging, endure.

These memories and discussion of heritage brings me back to the day that my older brother, Michael, passed on March 18, 2002. It was one of profound grief that forever altered me. Later that year, when Bruce Springsteen’s album “The Rising” was released, the song “You’re Missing” became a source of immense comfort, its lyrics resonated deeply within the void left by my brother’s absence. I sang along to it repeatedly as I drove aimlessly through our neighborhood. Tears streamed down my face, soaking the steering wheel in a silent, unconscious ritual.

Two decades later, this March and my brother’s passing feels particularly poignant, perhaps triggered by a beautiful blog post titled “Photographs,” Reclaiming the Forgotten, written by Anand, the son of my dear friend, Preema, whom I consider my Indian karmic sister.

In the moving reflection, Anand remembers his brother, Shyam, who passed away in 1994. “Nobody has asked to see my brother’s picture for a while. In a house full of books & papers, stationery & cutlery, clothes & bags, old letters & broken hardware – that I don’t have a ready picture of this feels like a small betrayal.”

Reading these inspiring words, a realization dawned. Over four years ago, following our family tragedy, I, too, had unknowingly committed a small betrayal. Grief narrowed my world after losing my son, and I had pushed my brother away. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten him or erased him. It was more that the raw pain of losing Marshall had painted gray shades over everything, etching little space for anything else.

To my surprise, as Anand delved into photo albums, reminiscing about his brother, I found myself drawn to a different kind of search. Borage seeds, to be precise.

These vibrant white flowers have thrived in our front garden for the past two years, and I felt compelled to plant a third batch yesterday – a little earlier than usual, on the anniversary of Mike’s passing. Planting the seeds felt like a fitting tribute to leaving room for my brother’s memories. It was a simple act that promised to become a cherished annual ritual. (My photo albums in the attic of Mike as well as my son can’t wait much longer either!)

After reading Anand’s beautifully written elegiac blog, which triggered so many other layers of grief in me, I also started to reread a blog, Big Brother Musings, I had written about Mike two years ago. That particular blog includes a letter I wrote in Mike’s honor. The following is an excerpt from it, “Not because you were handsome, strong, generous, compassionate, highly intuitive and intelligent and a war hero to boot, but because you knew that everything, no matter how utterly defective, stained, sinned or doomed, could root, grow and live under one condition: that it is planted in a bedrock of unconditional love.”

Was it a coincidence to purchase the seeds for planting in memory of the bedrock of his legacy?

The letter ends, “Dear Big Brother, I hope I see you someday. Feel your arms around me again and see the twinkle in your eyes when you gently whisper, ‘Peace.’”

This spring as the seeds sprout and mature, I hope to begin each day gazing out my window, the sight rekindling a sense of peace and gratitude. Though flowers bloom only during certain seasons, faith, in the face of loss, can blossom and flourish year-round, only needing a minimal space of its own to take root.

Crème de la Crème Brûlée

Posted on November 28, 2023 by cattalespress under a spiritual life, Angels on Earth, Courage, Dealing with special occasions, Death, death of a child, Depression, disciplined non-conformist., Do Not Be Afraid, Embrace Change, emotions, Faith, Faith Muscle, Faith-O-Meter, Family, Fellowship, Fourth Dimension, Good over evil, Gratitude, grief, grief relief, Grieving, Healing of Memories, heartbreak, Holidays, hope, humor, I need a miracle, inspiration, inspirational messages, joy, Living on through Food, Living through death, Living through personal crisis, Long-Term Coping Strategies, Loss of a Child, Meeting your needs, Mental Health, Mental Health, Natural above Normal, NEVER GIVE UP!, one day at a time, Out of Order Death, Positive Change, positive words of encouragement, Problem Solving, PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), Recipes for Life, Relationships, Sacred Space, Safe Space, seasons, Self-Care, self-value, Serendipity, Serene-diptious Moments, Sibling Death, Simple Pleasures of Life, Sing a new song, sorrow, Soul Food, special occasions, spirit-filled life, spiritual, spiritual inspirational thoughts, Struggles, Suicide, Suicide Loss Survivors, Support Group Resources, Swamp of the soul, The God Channel, Therapy, To thine own self be true, transparency, trauma, Turmoil, Unconditional Love, Unsung Heroes, Validate Your Feelings, Vulnerability, What you resist persists

“Take a second mortgage on the house and get one of those … It’s a vanilla bean; they’re expensive.”

In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, Chef Jean-Pierre’s melodious French accent echoed through our house. My partner, Mark, was deeply engrossed in one of the chef’s YouTube videos, determined to master a recipe for crème brûlée, as a tribute to my late son Marshall, who loved the delicate custard dessert.

Thanksgiving Day arrived, and sweet, as well as curried, aromas blended seamlessly with the roasted turkey and simmering gravy, filling our home and mingling with the bittersweet scent of memories. As my daughter, her BF and my life partner and I gathered around the table, our hearts held a mixture of gratitude, sorrow and unwavering love.

This Thanksgiving, our fourth without Marshall and his wry humor and roll-up-your-sleeve helping attitude, was a poignant reminder of the profound impact he had on our lives for his brief 26 years on earth.

Inspired by last weekend’s conferences, I hoped to rekindle the warmth and joy that Marshall brought to our Thanksgiving gatherings by not only making one of his favorite desserts, but also his signature curry pumpkin coconut soup.

I had special-ordered white ceramic dessert dishes, only to be baffled by the sudden appearance of a crystal clear one in the sink that no one could account for. (Later, it was revealed to me that the dish was my dear childhood friend, Anna’s.)

This was the first holiday that I decided to set a place at the table for my son. To my astonishment, Marshall’s photo slid out from the cutlery, as if guided by an unseen force. Immediately, I knew to place the photo from 2008 front and center on his designated chair. The place setting was a simple gesture, and it brought a sense of comfort amid our grief.

The meal was a symphony of flavors and memories. It began with the creamy, aromatic soup that evoked Marshall’s infectious laughter and his love for curry in each sip and ended with the velvety crème brûlée, nesting in its delicately caramelized crust that reminded us of his sweet tooth and his insatiable curiosity for new culinary experiences. Marshall mattered, and so did my mom, dad and brother Michael. Although they were no longer physically present, their spirits were woven into the very fabric of the gathering.

As our stomachs filled so did our hearts. In the quiet moments between laughter and tears, there was a sense of peace, a gentle acceptance of the inevitable.

This past Thanksgiving, though tinged with sadness, served as a testament to the enduring power of faith, love and the resilience of the human spirit. It was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always light to be found, and that love’s embrace extends beyond the confines of mortality, like the lingering aroma of a cherished spice.

Curry Pumpkin Coconut Soup in Honor of Marshall

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon ginger, grated
1 tablespoon red curry paste
1 (14-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1 (15-ounce) can pumpkin puree
1 (13.5-ounce) can coconut milk
2 cups vegetable broth
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon lime juice, plus more to taste

Garnish (Optional):

Fresh cilantro leaves
Pumpkin seeds

Shredded Coconut or Coconut milk
Lime wedges

Instructions:

Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes.

Add the garlic, ginger, and curry paste and cook for 1 minute more, until fragrant.

Stir in the diced tomatoes, pumpkin puree, coconut milk, vegetable broth, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Using an immersion blender or a regular blender, puree the soup until smooth.

Stir in the lime juice to taste.

Ladle the soup into bowls and garnish, if you like, with cilantro, pumpkin seeds, shredded coconut, coconut milk and/or lime wedges.

Chef Jean-Pierre’s Recipe for Crème Brûlée in Honor of Marshall

Ingredients:

4 whole eggs
½ cup granulated sugar or ¼ sugar and 2 ounces white chocolate
12 ounces whole milk
12 ounces heavy whipping cream
1 pinch salt
1 tablespoon pure Tahitian vanilla extract or imitation vanilla extract

Equipment:

4 ramekins or small baking dishes
Large saucepan
Mixing bowls
Whisk
Fine-mesh sieve
Culinary torch or broiler
Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 325°F (163°C). Place the ramekins in a baking dish and set aside.

In a saucepan, combine the milk, cream, white chocolate and vanilla extract. Heat over medium heat until just simmering.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, sugar, and salt until well combined.

Gradually whisk the hot milk mixture into the egg mixture until fully incorporated.

Strain the custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean bowl to remove any impurities.

Divide the custard evenly among the prepared ramekins.

Carefully fill the baking pan with hot water to reach about halfway up the sides of the ramekins.

Place the baking pan in the preheated oven and bake for 45-50 minutes, or until the custards are set, but still slightly jiggly in the center.

Remove the ramekins from the water bath and let cool completely on a wire rack.

Refrigerate the crème brûlée for at least 2 hours, or preferably overnight.

Enjoy your Chef Jean-Pierre’s Crème Brûlée in honor of someone you love!

WTF? (Where's the faith?)

A blog of comfort during unpredictable times

Tag Archives: Brother Michael

Birthday Wishes Across the Stars: For Brother Mike

A Space of its Own

Crème de la Crème Brûlée