Tag: vegan

Wellness Tonic

Recently, I’ve been sick in a sort of “full system reboot”: weeks of allergies turned into a sinus infection, grounding me with multiple days of self-care through sleep and solitude. I’m still healing through Reiki, acupuncture, a simple diet focused on rice and veggies, and this wellness tonic.

I make this warm drink throughout the year—both for everyday wellness and whenever my body needs a little extra support. It’s vegan + gluten-free, and it’s sweet without sugar.

Simply combine the following ingredients:

Image of these ingredients sitting side-by-side on a wooden table.
View into blue and white patterned mug with wellness tonic on the inside and tea label “Traditional Medicinals” on the outside.

Certainly, this tonic can be simplified or modified: I sometimes leave out the turmeric, use fresh ginger, or add more lemon. Other herbals teas like chamomile or licorice can also be made into tonics by adding vinegar, lemon, and ginger. The idea is to create a warming, comforting, and soothing beverage with a lot of taste and wellness reinforcement.

Throughout my journey with back pain, I’ve learned to see food for its incredible healing potential. Now I think about the heating and cooling, anti-inflammatory and GI-strengthening properties of food. To help with my full-system reboot, this tonic gives a full-system boost.

My wish is that this tonic may come in handy at the time you need it, as I need it now.

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With gratitude, this post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Roasted Veggies with Tahini Sauce: Linking Creativity and Self-Care,” “Three Chocolate Smoothies for Fueling the Road Ahead,” and other vegan + gluten-free recipes. Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Revisiting Fear Through Walker’s Essay “Everything Is a Human Being”

Book cover for Alice Walker’s Living by the Word: Selected Essays 1973-1987.This spring I’m reading Alice Walker’s Living by the Word slowly, mindfully, as part of my “Contemplative Writing” course. I appreciate this book of essays for many reasons, including its title, which makes an argument that we live by the words we put into the world. As a writer committed to everyday living for justice, I am taken with this idea of “living by the word.”

I am taken, too, with Walker’s reflections on her many relations, including with her father and daughter, readers and publishers, ancestors and elders, horses and snakes. Across her essays, Walker shows the interconnectedness of all beings, tracing lineages of trauma and healing as well as fear and (in)justice.

Recently, the essay “Everything Is a Human Being” stood out to me. As a keynote address Walker gave at the University of California, Davis, in 1983 for MLK Day, this piece weaves together reflections on fear and humans’ destructive impact on the earth and each other. I found myself lingering over words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs, and pages …

In class, several students read aloud from the following passage, one I’d earmarked, as it spoke to my recent blog post on interrogating fear (fear of spiders and people alike).

Screenshot of blog post “Do Vegans Kill Spiders? Recognizing Fears and Others’ Right to Exist”

Here’s a bit of Walker’s reflections on fear, which resulted in a neighbor killing a small garden snake:

“Everything I was taught about snakes—that they are dangerous, frightful, sinister—went into the murder of this snake person, who was only, after all, trying to remain in his or her home, perhaps the only home he or she had ever known. Even my ladylike ‘nervousness’ in its presence was learned behavior. I knew at once that killing the snake was not the first act that should have occurred in my new garden, and I grieved that I had apparently learned nothing, as a human being, since the days of Adam and Eve.

“Even on a practical level, killing this small, no doubt bewildered and disoriented creature made poor sense, because throughout the summer snakes just like it regularly visited the garden (and deer, by the way, ate all the tomatoes), so that it appeared to me that the little snake I killed was always with me. Occasionally a very large mama or papa snake wandered into the cabin yard, as if to let me know its child has been murdered, and it knew who was responsible for it.

“These garden snakes, said my neighbors, are harmless; they eat mice and other pests that invade the garden. In this respect, they are even helpful to humans. And yet, I am still afraid of them, because that is how I was taught to be. Deep in the psyche of most of us there is this fear—and long ago, I do not doubt, in the psyche of ancient peoples, there is a similar fear of trees. And of course a fear of other human beings, for that is where all fear of natural things leads us: to fear ourselves, fear of each other, and fear even of the spirit of the Universe, because out of fear we often greet its outrageousness with murder.” (Walker, Living by the Word, p. 143)

Walker’s words not only touch my heart but also remind me of the deep work I have to do with confronting, befriending, and watching for fear. I notice, for example, that fear of snakes is close-at-hand when hiking. I’m fascinated by and try to learn all I can about snakes, yet I still have much to do to quiet the learned/internalized fear that drives me to keep watch along trails.

Similarly, fear of myself and other humans is never far away. Such fear leads to literal and figurative murder—from police and state-sanctioned violence to dehumanization and discounting others. It erupts in microaggressions and denial of anger and grief. It leads to destruction of the earth, disproportionally impacting people of color. It’s also why we all (and white folks especially) need to strengthen emotional literacies for racial justice.

Fear blocks the ability to see beauty, the potential for human connection, and the work of striving for justice. Fear tears down instead of building up.

In Walker’s words: “[W]e should be allowed to destroy only what we ourselves can re-create. We cannot re-create this world. We cannot re-create ‘wilderness.’ We cannot even, truly, re-create ourselves. Only our behavior can we re-create, or create anew” (p. 151).

With humility, I commit again to revisiting destructive fear and re-creating behaviors aligned with justice. To do so, I see the value of “living by the word”: words of relationality, connectedness, and kinship. Kinship with spiders and humans, snakes and structural change. Kinship linking why I’m vegan with why I’m committed to social and racial justice. Kinship toward blocking destruction and creating anew.

View of the book’s inside binding coming loose and pages falling away.
Speaking of destruction and re-creation, here’s my well-loved book on its way to physical destruction, but ingested as nourishment and fuel for ongoing action.

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This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For related posts, check out “Do Vegans Kill Spiders? Recognizing Fears and Others’ Right to Exist,” “Refueling with Feminists of Color,” and the series of posts on why I’m vegan. Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

The Austin Airport Meal, Or Why I Love Potatoes and Cabbage with Salsa and Refried Beans

As someone who’s both vegan and gluten-free, I think a lot about food, especially when traveling. I travel with tea bags, snack bars, and other packaged food. More often than not, I prepare or buy meals from outside the airport to eat on the plane. Occasionally, however, I’ll crave a warm meal and find myself looking for chili, steamed veggies, or rice and beans (with guacamole, tortilla chips, and salad).

A few years ago, I wanted a warm meal in the Austin airport, where the options were slim to none. A Tex-Mex place I thought would have rice and beans had only an option of breakfast potatoes (home fries or hash browns) with refried beans. I ordered the potatoes and beans with large amounts of the available vegan toppings: shredded cabbage and salsa. An odd combination, I thought, but I sat down to eat and enjoyed the meal far more than expected (and more than any airport food in memory).

Since this discovery of the “Austin airport meal,” I’ve re-created versions of it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Though I typically roast or fry potatoes, I’ve used frozen hash browns in a pinch. I then open a can of refried beans, a jar of salsa, and a bag of shredded cabbage. A meal comes together with few ingredients and little time (about 10-15 minutes). I have comfort food (with potatoes as the base), and I meet my goal of eating vegetables as at least half of every meal (by piling on the cabbage).

So, with gratitude for food discoveries in the unlikeliest of locations, here’s my “Austin airport meal”—a meal that’s great when traveling, over-scheduled, or exhausted in the spring semester (for students and teachers alike).

Ingredients:

  • 1 bag of potatoes (more or less depending on amount desired) with approx. 2 tablespoons of olive oil and water and ½ teaspoon of salt (and possibly pepper or chili powder) for frying
  • 1 bag or head of shredded cabbage
  • 1 can of vegan refried beans
  • Few tablespoons of salsa (to taste)

Instructions:

  1. Slice potatoes if frying, or cut into wedges if roasting.
  2. For fried potatoes: add potatoes, oil, water, and spices to a large frying pan. Cook on medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are soft and browned.
  3. Heat the refried beans.
  4. If not already shredded, chop the cabbage.
  5. Combine potatoes, refried beans, and cabbage in roughly equivalent proportions (I tend to add more cabbage). Add a tablespoon or two of salsa.
  6. Enjoy!

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This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “When Times Get Tough: Simple Sautéed Spinach and Tempeh,” “Potato & Kale Casserole (vegan + gluten-free): Finding Comfort in the Growth Zone,” and other vegan + gluten-free recipes. Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Warm Quinoa Cranberry Breakfast Cereal

Recently, I’ve felt the heat associated with anger flushing through my body, asking to be recognized. As I tend to this anger, I’m seeking nourishment that provides fuel for committed action—fuel that is sweet, but not sugary.

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Warm cereal with blood orange slices, cranberry-banana smoothie, and tea.

One of the meals I’ve been making for myself is quinoa cranberry breakfast cereal. I simply combine the following ingredients, press the “porridge” setting in my “fuzzy logic” rice maker, and wake up to warm cereal and sweet smells:

  • Quinoa — ¾ cup
  • Frozen cranberries — 1 cup
  • Pumpkin seeds — ¼ cup
  • Almond milk — 3-4 cups (2 cups at the beginning of cooking and more at the end)
  • Vanilla — 1 teaspoon
  • Stevia — 1 teaspoon

This warm cereal has been helping me feel well cared for despite being worn thin. I have been feeling incensed (burning up) and fatigued (burning out) by a constant barrage of sexual assault, institutional racism, ableist policies, gender policing, xenophobic rhetoric, and other bullshit. Not to mention the violence and open wounds on display vividly in headlines and news feeds.

Toward attending to anger and showing up with resilience, I recognize the need to care for myself especially well. I feel grateful for a programmable rice maker that allows me to press a few buttons and have warm cereals, rice and beans, and other grain-legume combos ready to eat a few hours later.

I mention the rice maker because I’m often asked about how I prepare home-cooked meals when juggling a LOT, including a lot of emotions. This device, along with my Vitamix and electric tea kettle, save time and mental labor. While these appliances are a true privilege, on the one hand, they are also a true investment in self-care, on the other. They are hands-down my favorite kitchen items and have replaced a lot of pots, pans, and other gadgets, simplifying the cooking experience.

So, with deep gratitude, I share this simple and sweet vegan + gluten-free breakfast that is supporting me right now—with the hope that it may support you, too. Whatever self-care may be calling to you, may the care involve attention to emotional intake, emotional readiness, and emotional resilience for the long haul toward justice.

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This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Three Chocolate Smoothies for Fueling the Road Ahead,” “Banana, Chocolate, and Peanut-Butter Mash: Changing My Relationship with Sugar and Rethinking Self-Care,” and other vegan + gluten-free recipes. Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Do Vegans Kill Spiders? Recognizing Fears and Others’ Right to Exist

During the holidays, I visited family in Tennessee and Florida, where we encountered multiple spiders. They were doing what spiders do in houses: walking along baseboards, in and out of shadows, with seemingly little or no interest in human co-habitants.

From growing up in the Tennessee mountains, I’m familiar with spiders. I’ve studied which spiders’ venom is likely to impact humans. I’ve encountered black widows, watched for brown recluses, and investigated spider bites on my body. I’ve also realized that my fear of spiders—a fear that I’ve quieted over time—is not a rational fear of venom. Instead, it’s a fear of any and all spiders, simply because they are spiders. And I worry a lot about fearing something because it exists. Such fear literally kills people, as internalized fear of black men (fear of black and brown bodies, especially by white women) is well-documented. It’s essential to explore, spend time with, and really understand this fear.

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When I think of fear (and spiders), I think of this wisdom from poet Nikki Giovanni (who also grew up in the Tennessee mountains):

I killed a spider Not a murderous brown recluse Nor even a black widow And if the truth were told this Was only a small Sort of papery spider Who should have run When I picked up the book But she didn't And she scared me And I smashed her I don't think I'm allowed To kill something Because I am Frightened

Giovanni’s “Allowables” reminds me that when fear is in the driver’s seat, it can do real harm. Fear is linked with violence, with the limits of coming to see or care about another being, another person. Fear is linked with dehumanization, with injustice, with denying life. Literally, such fear undermines another’s right to exist.

Though fear has a role in play in our lives, that role needs to be considered and measured. For author Elizabeth Gilbert, fear belongs in the backseat. Though it can offer suggestions and give information, we must determine how to act with that information.

More and more, I realize that whenever I’m tuning out fear, it grows louder in its insistence to be heard. And the louder fear is, the greater its potential for taking over and short-circuiting mindful, committed action.

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It’s taken me years to shift my attitude toward spiders, but now when I see spiders in houses, my instinct is to observe them and, typically, leave them be. I’ve learned that their self-determined path is to disappear into nooks and crannies, and their presence won’t harm me. That’s why I was taken by surprise by my family’s reaction to spiders.

In one spider encounter (after some yelling and shoe-throwing), a family member challenged: “If you don’t move it, I’ll kill it.”

At that moment, I heard my fear speak loudly: “Beth, if you try to move it, it might bite you.”

I’ve learned from educator Margaret Wheatley that looking at what surprises and disturbs me is a good way to see my assumptions and beliefs. In this moment, I could see shame that my old fear of spiders was still driving (not backseat-riding). I could see how fear was preventing me from interacting with spiders, much less seeing myself as truly in relation with them. Even the language of “it” held the spider at a distance, making me question the depth of my relations with other humans and non-human animals.

Thanking fear for these lessons, I luckily found a glass and a holiday card to trap the spider and move it outdoors. After a few deep breaths—of feeling how fear was undercutting relations—I looked down to see that the card held a much-needed message:

2017-12-26 10.09.46

That line—“to every creature great and small”—is the sort of holiday greeting that communicates a desire for connectedness with all beings. It’s a sentiment offered to snow-people and birds, but what about to spiders? What about to humans deemed less-than-human? What about to those who are deemed expendable, whose right to exist is constantly called into question?

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As a framework or orientation to the world, veganism helps me recognize and relate differently with fears. Through striving to relate with “every creature great and small,” veganism helps me notice when I’m afraid of others and to question—and not continually perpetuate—those fears. Veganism, too, helps me notice when fear is driving instead of backseat-riding. This noticing arises through a commitment to ecofeminism: a commitment to counter exploitation, oppression, and injustice and to affirm social, racial, gender, economic, and environmental justice.

It’s not by chance that Nikki Giovanni, a Black woman born “during the age of segregation,”  wrote “Allowables.” Lived experiences facing dehumanization and white supremacy provide insights into the experience of being feared, killed, and written off. Of being dis-allowable. And such dis-allowing is why veganism must be intersectional—working not only against speciesism but also against racism, sexism, classism, -isms.

When I think of what’s most urgent in the world at this moment, I think of what’s allowed and dis-allowed. I think of who’s allowed and dis-allowed. And I think of the urgent need for a white woman to leverage courage toward combating fear. For, truly, white women’s fears have historically bolstered white supremacy, and so working with fears is essential to countering dehumanization and super-humanization (inferiority and superiority).

My hope is that by relating more humanely with spiders, we learn to relate more humanely with humans. May valuing spiders’ self-determined paths allow us to value all humans’ rights to existence and to self-determination.

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This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. Feel free to check out other answers to “why I’m vegan,” including environmental justice, ecofeminism, and doing something small and sustained. Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Hearts of Palm Salad

After the heaviness of the holiday season, I’m grateful for quieter days and lighter eating. Self-care feels important for refueling and reconnecting with myself, my dreams, and my commitments. Though self-care certainly varies and at times involves hot cocoa and comfort foods, right now it’s manifesting in a desire for more fruits and vegetables. So, I’m making more salads.

One of my favorites is inspired by Urban Beets, a vegan café in Milwaukee that serves especially creative, flavorful food. In the past, they’ve used hearts of palm salad to approximate a lobster roll, serving the salad with fresh dill on a gluten-free hoagie with lemon and kettle chips on the side.

2017-06-24 12.12.04
The inspiration for this recipe: Urban Beets Cafe’s vegan + gluten-free “lobster roll.”

What follows is my recipe for a similar salad that I typically eat with rice crackers.

Ingredients:

  • Hearts of palm —14 oz. jar or can
  • Celery — 1-2 stalks or approx. ½ cup (roughly, ¼ of the amount of hearts of palm)
  • Fresh dill — 3+ tablespoons (approx. ½ of the amount of celery)
  • Capers — ½ to 1 tablespoon
  • Vegan mayo — 1 tablespoon
  • Dill pickle juice — ¼ teaspoon
  • Lemon — ¼ teaspoon
  • Salt — approx. ¼ teaspoon, to taste
  • Pepper — optional add-in, to taste

Preparation Time:

  • 10 minutes, including time to cut, combine, and serve.

Instructions:

  1. Dice the hearts of palm and celery, and chop the fresh dill.
  2. Add these cut ingredients into a mixing bowl.
  3. Then add the remaining ingredients (capers, mayo, pickle juice, lemon, salt, and pepper), and stir until well-combined. I like to taste while mixing and add more of these ingredients, as needed. The capers, pickle juice, lemon, and/or pepper can be left out for a smoother, milder flavor.
  4. Serve with a few sprigs of fresh dill on top for additional color and flavor.
  5. Enjoy with crackers or chips. Or add to a salad or sandwich with lettuce and tomato.

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This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “When Times Get Tough: Simple Sautéed Spinach and Tempeh,” other vegan + gluten-free recipes, or the series of posts answering why I’m vegan. Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Caterpillars and the Butterfly Effect: Noticing Small Signs and Taking Small Actions

2018. New Year’s Day. I am with family in Florida and noticing many interesting insects, including these caterpillars and moths:

Curiosity leads us to watch, take photographs, and later look up the species, learning that these are oleander caterpillars transformed into oleander moths.

I keep seeing caterpillars and moths, so I begin researching their symbolic significance. Suddenly I realize this is another example of everyday divination and miraculous timing, as caterpillars are helping me see the potential of birthing new projects and ways of being in the near year. They ask me to look more carefully at changes in my life and to ask what transformations I’d like to experience this year.

The symbolic significance of seeing caterpillars may be small (like the caterpillars themselves), but what’s small can have BIG impact.

2017-12-31 12.57.06

Just as caterpillars transformed into butterflies can influence weather patterns miles away, the butterfly effect reminds us that actions can create far-reaching ripples. A flap of the wing matters.

With the caterpillar’s reminder, I’m entering 2018 attentive to small moments. I’m asking myself in what moments am I closer to my best self. When am I truer to my commitments? When am I standing TALL? When am I acting in ways that might ripple outward toward social action and social justice?

I’ve noticed in the past days a few moments that might be small flaps of my butterfly wing:

  • Talking with a white family member about how the frame of whiteness limits our understandings, experiences, and relational networks.
  • Witnessing sexism impacting me and repeating to myself: “That’s not mine. I’m not taking it in. I’m investing my energies toward building gender justice.”
  • Instead of blowing up in a hard conversation, noticing myself get angry, allowing the anger, stepping away, and then re-engaging when ready.
  • Preparing and sharing yummy vegan foods for kids who ask for more: more strawberry smoothies, roasted potatoes, pancakes, tempeh sticks, and other foods creating memories.

The small signs of seeing caterpillars and moths are reminding me to appreciate small actions like these. In 2018, I hope to amplify, multiply, and learn to sustain these small actions. And I hope that like asking for more yummy foods, we ask for more of ourselves and our collectives. A sort of “more” that manifests in everyday, seemingly small, and consequential ways.

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This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Why I’m Vegan: Doing Something Small and Sustained” or “Today Resistance Looks Like …” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!