The Craft of (Dis)Illusion: Reflection, Wonderings and Wanderings in Winter (TBT)

Words of the day:
hindsight (n.): understanding a situation or event only after it has happened or developed. The past year-plus, of course.
schadenfreude (n.): pleasure derived from someone else's misfortune. Well, considering our current socio-political climate, this is relative... and many of them deserved it.
facepalm (n./v.): the gesture of placing the palm of one's hand across the face, as to express embarrassment, frustration, disbelief, etc. (often used as an interjection). If I can own it, so can you.

The shortest day of the year begins at 11:28 am ET(New York City Time) today, and I awoke to a notification on my cell phone only six hours earlier from my dear cousin Anthony with the most apropos of words to savor: facepalm. 

I did the facepalm several times in 2017, felt a healthy dose of schadenfreude while watching the news, and still gained much from hindsight. There: used all of them in one sentence. A day well spent in contemplation. But wait, there's more...

Black turtleneck, 'cause it's winter now.

I made these. See model above.

In the winter, I don't get out as much, because New York City has FIVE MONTHS of it, and I haven't yet acquired my alternate cold-weather residence. Numb fingers and toes notwithstanding, I did, however, manage to ice skate twice this year before December even began! 

I still have my "ice-legs", it would seem. Selfie on skates, smh...

Getting my Nature Documentarian on with Newtown Creek Alliance!

It has been quite a year! 2016 I dubbed the Year of Travel. 2017 was my #busybee, to the point where I got so busy, I forgot to appropriately apply the coined hashtag as liberally as I intended, and back it up with blogged evidence (if it's not on social media, it didn't happen, right?!)!

Ah well, take to heart that I have, indeed, been busy, and the culmination of this year is seeing several fruits come to bear.

Yes, I climbed an active volcano in Guatemala last year, and now it finally has become part of my legend!

I am happy to say that having a reunion after several estranged years from Anthony last December began a unique journey from 9-to-5 monotony and disillusionment to freelance hustling and creative anxiety. Not to be outdone, my newfound "flexible schedule" as I continued to carve out exactly what I wanted to do next (and how) allowed for some truly unorthodox experiences for me.

The "taxi" I didn't take in Guatemala. Stay tuned for video!

I canoed on a formerly contaminated creek on its way towards environmental rehabilitation.
I helped to restore an urban green space dedicated to food justice in my Bronx hometown AND I brought a midwestern city's 25-year jewel of a working urban farm to light for a greater audience through my journalism instincts. And they were both started by Blackfolks!

I attended for the third year in a row the Women In Travel Summit that has been very responsible for my upstart forays into travel, writing, and tapping into my creative goddess warrior spirit.
I managed to consistently imagine, execute and publish articles for a dynamic new online publication- and get paid for it!

I kept my eyes and ears open, and my heart vulnerable, my head cool, and my skin as thick as I could.

A queen up on Queen Street, ON.

NYC in the summer means a fan, and a twist-out!

I learned through much trial and error to speak up for myself within my family and romantic relationships, and to deal with the hilarious, exasperating, and thought-challenging results of that.
I stuck with projects that didn't quite make sense at first, but afforded me better skills at business branding, social media management, and even networking, all the while building up my confidence in defining myself as an entrepreneur, writer, and mental health and human rights advocate.
I got back into the kitchen for pleasure, and also tightened up my preparations skills for routine cooking.

What you see here is three types of carrot and parsley root from the farmer's market. Yum.

I learned that pride and shame should not get in the way of attaining mental and physical therapy, regardless of what traps the current administration sets for the general population.
I have said congratulations and goodbye to many friends and family, in joy and heartache.
I got out more- and showed people how they can also be active and involved, whether locally or from afar- and I re-dedicated myself to not being afraid of meeting the travel challenge wherever I presently am.
I embraced the utility of being organized and applied mise-en-place across professional disciplines as diligently as in my kitchen.
I managed my stress and confidence lags while also coming to terms with the toxicity of the present economic, social and political climate in the United States, as it pertains to women, Black women, and creative, non-binary, non-mainstream people, who are dear to my heart and deserve the platforms and dignity they have fought (and/or died) for.

Melinated Moms Winetasting Event in Newark with Sipper's Delight Inc.! Support Black Female Businesses!

I have found a way to channel my anger, my need for consistent, meaningful and life-affirming creative outlets, and have made significant steps towards multiple streams of income and livelihood that enrich this life I currently lead. Out of sheer boredom and necessity, I have accepted the creativity of my nimble fingers, and allowed myself to lean in to all of my talents. I've tackled my writer's block head-on, and can thank both of my sisters, my besties, their mamas, Sacred Walker, Kim Piper Werker, Ariam Alula and so many others for their individual and collaborative influences!

Color, texture, location, season, environment are all part of my inspiration in creating culinary, literary and visual art.

I continue to be a daughter, a sister, a best friend, a confidante, an aunt, a cousin, a granddaughter, (a hot date), and myself, and strong in the definition that I determine reflects me in these roles. No one else gets to tell me how to be in these people (and more to come).

I am (also) a journalist, an editor, a listmaker, a researcher, a reader, a lover of languages, a singer, a dancer, a jewelry-maker, a fashion-enthusiast (and thus, designer), an artist, an advocate, a thought warrior, a business strategist, a photographer, a lover, a fighter, a dreamer, an immigrant, a New Yorker, an American, a #Blackamazonian, an environmentalist, a gardener, a chef, a tinkerer, a hustle-hacker, a problem-solver, a mountain-climber, a hula-hooper, a jogger, a weight-lifter, a #seldom_settled traveller, an unbeaten liver of life. I sang, I taught, I wrote and I flew. What did you do??

Soup is my go-to in the cold months. Curry-spiced red lentil with coconut milk, if you please.

Finding Beauty Where E'er I Go

The seasons are in their transition, as is the political, sartorial and culinary climates of New York City. Soon, the fig tree that I walk under every day before I round the corner to my home block will fade away the scent of ripened mashed fruit underfoot with the autumn rains. The leaves tempt me to harvest for experimental pickles and dolmades. I must acquaint myself with its Jewish owners so that I don't feel like a vandal plotting to pick the fruit under cover of darkness next summer. They obviously have more than they ever care or want to pick for themselves. I guess for now I will have to be content with spritzing my Fresh Fig and Apricot parfum when the air has a familiar chill...

When the weather starts turning, I get more creative. I re-stock my spices that have been put to good use throughout the year, but also bring out the more traditional ones for cold weather cooking- cinnamon sticks, cloves, allspice for mulled wine and cider, pumpkin and squash-based foods. I raid the wild overgrown sage bush in the backyard, visions of crackly buttered sage in soups, roasted meats and hair vinegar rinses. I devote more time and budget as I can to roving the Brooklyn and Manhattan Farmer's Markets, checking off the staples- garlic, onions, plus varieties of apples and pears, farm eggs, dark leafy greens and a colorful pile of root vegetables with the highest vitamin and mineral content. This year, I have fallen in love with legumes all over again, and intend to put lentils through the recipe wringer along with some unusual grains, like amaranth and millet. At some point soon, I will buy my $7-$8 bunch of fresh eucalyptus to decorate, disperse the annoying closet-and-cupboard moths, and eventually serve as fragrant and potent inhalants for my seasonal sinus colds.

It was with this inventive spirit (and tormenting autumn illness) that I found myself in Tribeca yesterday, aiming to take mental and visual stock of items at my favorite health food store in Manhattan, Bell Bates. Imagine my deep confusion and sadness when I happened upon the raised steps, only to find a garishly incongruous Hallowe'en display inside the wide-open doors. Costumes and gimmicky ads included. Not a spice in sight. Mind you, I do consider myself a fan of Hallowe'en, since I have always liked to play dress-up and explore the deeper and darker side of my imagination since I was a sheltered, restricted child of The Church. But I was not prepared for this untimely assault, October or not. Not at my oft-visited haven for hard-to-find herbs and spices at affordable sampling (and hoarding) quantities! Where will I find a $3.99 4-ounce bag of everlasting flowers to try out a new tincture?? Who else had such an extensive array of seaweed products from more than one brand?? Why, oh why didn't I come in September like I planned to? The girl smacking her gum on her cell phone break outside saw my bereft state and informed me that Bell Bates closed up shop two months ago. The beginning of the summer was  last time I was in there (feeling guilty for buying too many things, but vowing to return in Sept nonetheless). They never mentioned anything in the store, even though I now see online everyone knew about this... People need to know how much of an institution this place was, family-run since 1885... but there is Whole Foods down the block to contend with, so I guess it was inevitable.

I could suck my teeth about that, but I will be positive and highlight the fact  that, call it what you like, WF was my next logical step for consolation. and to some degree, I was consoled. I happened upon a small display in the natural cosmetic section (my secondary obsession, after spices), where a lovely young lady and her older male assistant were rearranging their wares.

Daliia: The Science of Life, was set up to showcase sexy looking kohl eye makeup in vibrant metallic colors and amazing lipstick-style cases with retractable mirrors. My favorite, which I intend to purchase and wear the hell out of, was the Persian Gold Eye-Stick. There were also some natural-based lip stain pens, beckoning for a  pout. Since I have a love-fear relationship with any lipcolor more lingering than lipgloss, I feel confident that these stains are the perfect addition to my regimen. As I mentioned to Dalia, it is reminiscent of a simpler (and yet more subversive) time of the Middle Ages, where young women found inventive ways to have a beauty regimen in spite of strict religious and superstitious social directives. Ms. Dalia herself is a striking lass, all dark wavy tresses and a slightly classic ancient-beauty look to her. Although I was fighting a heavy disposition in my despair over Bell Bates and my sinus headache, I found myself talking to Dalia for about an hour about her line. I love that she is an independent gal touting "Ayurvedic Couture", and I tip my invisible fedora to a young person like myself who obviously values ancient ways with a fresh new delivery. She is doing something my grandmother did, my mother always dabbled in and I aspire to do a little bit more every day. There are very few artists, designers and purveyors of beauty that I feel compelled to mention in my blog as a direct inspiration and promotion, but I will say thank you to Dalia and Daliia, for giving me a ray of hope that all is not lost in this larger, ever-changing metropolis; that perseverance and creativity are still rewarding traits when one daydreams and fantasizes about a different way of life.

 

One small independent institution may have bowed out, but in its wake, may many more can and will crop up. And I will find them, and speak their name with a smile upon my lips, and a Persian gold rimming my eyes!