Haven’t written much in the past year. Not much at all.

Sometimes things have to die so that they can come back to life in a true way.

Starting from a young age I wanted to be an actress. I loved being on stage. My first real acting classes, I realized later, were my first formal spiritual training. The reality that I could take on different states of mind and emotions at will showed me I was not the personality that I knew as “me”. If that wasn’t “me”, what was?

I explored more as I became an adult. I became fascinated with creativity of many types – writing and film making, primarily. I was cooking for a living, until I could become “an artist”.

In my early thirties I shared the idea that I was waiting to “become an artist” with a group of teachers on a meditation retreat. One of the teachers said, “But, Durga, you ARE an artist. There’s no becoming. It doesn’t matter if you’re not making money at it. Being an artist is a way of being in the world. It’s a view.”
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Velvety Chocolate Cake on one of my favorite depression glass plates

We’re on vacation at my husband’s family cottage in New Hampshire on Lake Winnipesaukee. (I can finally spell that without having to look it up.) The amenities are basic, the cottage is shared with a number of family members and is only used during the summertime. The mixing options are an ancient Waring blender with a glass carafe and hard plastic lid that doesn’t seal (I LOVE this blender on an aesthetic level, but it’s not the most effective appliance I’ve ever used), and a hand mixer. Never to shy away from a challenge, I wanted a new treat that I could eat without paying for with my health. It’s nice to have time to tinker in the kitchen.
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