Fresh New Day» vegetarian

318 – Music for a found harmonium

Lynsey — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 10:49:11 +0000

I am the proprietor of the Penguin Cafe, I will tell you things at random… — Simon Jeffes

I love that song! I love that Cafe! And there, hiding in the corner of Higher Taste, the Hare Krishna vegetarian restaurant we have lunch in fairly frequently, I found a harmonium – or something similar – equally harmonious.
Isn’t that so often the way? We try something scary and new, and after some misgivings we find ourselves strangely comforted by what has become commonplace. Often our comfort zone isn’t all that comfortable in the first place – it fits too comfortably – squeezes up on our shoulders and itches on our necks. Did you put on weight? No, I don’t think so, but you have expanded beyond the fit of your reality.

I resisted the temptation to take the harmonium down to give it a whirl. I can’t play any musical instruments at all and the results of all the mistakes would be disturbing. At first. Gradually though, if I continued to play, a couple of things might happen. I could get better and music would result. My audience could go deaf, or simply adjust their aesthetic to like my playing. Or just maybe, after a few years mutual practice, we could all come together – my sounds becoming music, and my audience comes to like it. Creative harmony, at last. And we would’ve forgotten all the mistakes.

I get better results when I pay less attention to the mistakes, and more attention to the getting it right.

Manifesto
13. Every day be better than you were the day before.
24. Every day is a journey. Not a destination.
26. Every day take action. Every small step counts.

146 – Holding many hands

Lynsey — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 10:24:42 +0000

Tonight, a real treat for me. I accepted a counter offer of a meal with friends. The counter offer was because I’d extended the initial invitation, and instead of my offer being accepted, I was invited to be the guest.

It’s a first for me. Or perhaps not a first, but I can’t remember ever before being told that a) you’re busy writing and working, b) your work and time is valuable too, c) come and eat early and then go home and get to work.

So, after a great vegetarian curry, a beer, and a last minute crisis because I left my jacket behind, I’m back home and working – creating in this glow of the warmth, love, and collaboration. Advice to readers: please feel free to reach out to starving artists (who might be well fed but need some of your energy) and mount a rescue bid. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Manifesto
11. Every day do something for someone else.
18. Every day express love. Some people need to hear it. Most people need to see it. Don�t take it for granted.
20. Every day say thank you.

071 – The triceratops and the rocket ship

Lynsey — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 08:55:12 +0000

At lunch today we were joined by an itinerant triceratops. Luckily we we eating vegetarian food so the triceratops felt absolutely at home. We ordered up a fresh cycad salad, and began to get acquainted. “So, Mr. T – can I call you Mr. T?”

The triceratops eyed me shakily. I took that for a yes.

“Mr. T – what’s your thoughts on MPs blowing tax payer money on extravagant international travel? On the economic conditions? Global warming? World peace? The whole shebang?”

The triceratops looked me square in the eye and said, “Are you insane? I am a plastic toy used in this cafe to signal to the serving staff that the food they’re heating and the coffee they’re bringing is for you. Do you not see the irony that some of my ancestors gave up their lives to become the oil that formed the plastic that I’m made out of? And – reality check – that bottle of sauce. It’s not fuel for rockets. OK? Get a grip.”

I noticed all the other plastic dinosaurs were staring at us so we ate up quickly and left.

Manifesto
17. Every day look through a new lens.
28. Every day you will be tested.
32. Every day have a laugh.

005 – Succulent

Lynsey — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 11:59:00 +0000

When I was a kid my Dad had the entire backyard under intensive cultivation. We had a half acre section, and this means that over quarter of an acre was the source of our everyday organic vegetables. Sparkling stems of silver beet was a common sight, however I’m very sure Dad would have looked on these golden beet stems (grown in Dad’s garden by my sister) with joy.

While we were growing up Dad’s sweat and dedication provided us with a kitchen garden lush with healthy and vibrant food – a legacy worth a king’s ransom – but without a single photo to remember it by. It’s a fairly regular guilt moment for me – Dad’s garden was so normal to us that we never took a moment to photograph his huge efforts, and the efforts were huge. Instead of the traditional meat and two veg (peas and potatoes) meal, it was normal for us to have a meat and 12 veg. Twelve veg? Sure. Potatoes, pumpkin, parsnips, carrots, onions, kumera, cauliflower, cabbage, peas, green and butter beans, broad beans (urgh!), and sweet corn. Oh, and silver beet. Mostly from seeds Dad had saved himself. Unimaginable in today’s hectic life. If you ever notice the common being done uncommonly well – please – take a photo. The opportunity passes so quickly. Tomorrow is Father’s Day, and I’m missing Dad more than ever.

Manifesto
11. Every day do something for someone else.
18. Every day express love. Some people need to hear it. Most people need to see it. Don’t take it for granted.
20. Every day say thank you.