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.

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:

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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.

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.

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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.


  • 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.


  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.

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.

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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.

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!

A Few of My Favorite Things

December. It’s a hard time for folks walking on wires to please others. It’s a hard time for folks finishing semesters when running on fumes. It’s a hard time for folks grieving family hurts or losses. It’s a hard time for processing what comes up in contemplative moments and social interactions alike.

This December is especially hard because it punctuates a year of great injustice, dehumanization, and the increasing visibility of wrongdoings. Now, as so many of us personally and collectively are doing (and being asked to do) “shadow work,” there’s a heightened need for self-care/self-work that embraces both/and.

How do we both honor the ways we’re falling apart and go about surviving? How do we both recognize the possibility of human extinction and invest in living more authentically, courageously, and lovingly? How do we both unlearn oppression (including internalized inferiority and superiority) and build new, more equitable relations? How do we both stay centered in gratitude and committed to justice? How do we experience both the depth of grief and the height of joy? How do we get by in the midst of inherent contradiction, paradox, incongruity, and change?

One answer (for me, this December) is that I’m getting by with a few of my favorite things. Specifically, I’m making “play dates” to hike with friends, to eat nourishing foods, and to read books and blogs that fill me up like adrienne maree brown’s Emergent Strategy and Chani Nicholas’s weekly horoscopes. (I even happily found this recorded conversation between adrienne maree brown and Chani Nicholas!)

My most frequent, almost-daily “play date” has involved listening to a new podcast while sipping peppermint cocoa and soaking in an Epsom salt bath. Here’s what this looks like:

1. How to Survive the End of the World Podcast

Over the past three weeks, I’ve been falling in love with the podcast How to Survive the End of the World from the Brown sisters: Autumn Brown and adrienne maree brown. And I mean falling in love as in feeling my stomach sink when I’ve listened to all the episodes and getting super excited when a new episode is released.

These recordings are directly about living within both/and, as episodes focus on “learning from the apocalypse with grace, rigor and curiosity.” Truly, episodes give deep insights, rich storytelling, and committed calls to action—modeling ways forward and asking how we show up for ourselves and others to be in “right relationship.” If you’re not already listening, check out the trailer here:

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It’s not by chance that this podcast is offered by two women of color at a time when the hashtags #TrustBlackWomen and #FollowBlackWomen are trending on social media. May listening to feminists and womanists of color do more to counter epistemic injustice and to honor the lived stories, experiences, and knowledges that need to be trusted and followed.

2. Peppermint Cocoa

Chocolate, I’ve found, makes falling in love even sweeter. Because I’ve also got a complicated relationship with sugar, I mix raw cacao and stevia so that I can enjoy chocolate daily, especially when luxuriating in a warm bath with my favorite podcast. Here’s the recipe for this month’s peppermint hot cocoa.

Combine and stir the following ingredients:

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 3. Epsom Salt Baths

Truth be told, I’ve always enjoyed baths, but I didn’t give myself permission to take them daily until struggling for several years with chronic back pain. It’s amazing how often pain has been a motivator for doing what I desire, what gives me pleasure and joy. Now, whenever my body or soul hurts, as they do when facing systemic racism and other institutional violence, I immerse myself in salty water. This is a privilege I am grateful for everyday.

I add several cups of Epsom salt to a warm bath, and soak while listening to awesome podcasts and enjoying hot cocoa. The combination, I’ve found, grounds me, while also lifting my spirit.

When we talk about building resilience, I wonder if we should talk more about Epsom salt and warm water for grounding and clearing energies. As a white woman, when I think about building fortitude to counter white fragility, I definitely think about Epsom salt baths for crying, releasing, recommitting, and re-emerging ready to work again.

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Together, (1) the How to Survive the End of the World podcast, (2) peppermint cocoa, and (3) Epsom salt baths are a few of my favorite things. As favorites, they help with refueling and with readying for ongoing resistance.

I talked recently with my six-year-old nephew about his “favorites,” and I realized that I don’t often have this conversation with adults. How often do we, as adults, name our favorites? How often do we take time in the day to enjoy something simply because it’s a favorite? Recognizing and honoring favorites feels important for navigating the both/and of life, especially at this time and especially in December.

May these or other favorites bolster you in personal and collective shadow work. May these or other favorites help with surviving when falling apart. May these or other favorites help with feeling what’s hard and also with feeling what’s incredibly beautiful, amazing, and possible too.

This post is written by Beth Godbee for Heart-Head-Hands.com. For more posts like this one, you might try “Sieving Life: Keeping What Nourishes and Releasing the Rest” orBreaking Commitments and Recommitting through Mindful Reflection.” Please also consider following the blog via email. Thanks!

Vegan and Gluten-Free Savory Pie

One of my favorite comfort foods is savory pie. I’ve learned to use a 5-ingredient pie crust as the base for different onion, mushroom, and kale pies. These pies combine sweet and savory. They combine comfort with the goal of eating vegetables for half of each meal. They also work on changing my relationship with sugar as an act of self-care.

Like other recipes I’ve shared in this blog, savory pie is quick and easy. It’s something I prepare without following a structured recipe, and it’s something I eat as leftovers for multiple meals.

It also, I hope, shows the fun that can come from being vegan. If it weren’t for the motivation to try new recipes, I might not have discovered that I can eat pie for dinner.

Ingredients for Pie Crust:

  • 1½ to 2 cups oats—ground into oat flour
  • 2 teaspoons of sugar
  • ½ teaspoon of salt
  • ¼ cup of olive oil
  • ¼ cup of water (oftentimes more for stickiness)

Ingredients for Kale-Onion Pie Stuffing:

  • Bunch of kale
  • 1 onion
  • 1 leek
  • 2 tablespoons of olive oil
  • ¼ cup of vegetable broth
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • Daiya or other shredded vegan cheeze

Alternative Pie Stuffing:

  • More onions, leeks, and/or shallots
  • Spinach or other greens
  • Mushrooms

Preparation Time:

  • 20 minutes (overlapping with cooking time)

Cooking Time:

  • 1 hour at 375F (initially 15 minutes for pie crust and an additional 30-45 minutes for the full pie)


  1. Follow the instructions from Oatmeal with a Fork for making 5-ingredient, no-roll pie crust:

    4 steps:
    1. Mix the flour, sugar, and salt together in a large bowl.
    2. Stir in the olive oil until the ‘batter’ is crumbly.
    3. Add in the cold water as needed until the dough is moistened, but not sticky.
    4. Press the dough into a pie plate, pressing it up the sides as desired.

  2. Bake the pie crust at 375F for 12-15 minutes, while preparing the savory vegetable stuffing.
  1. Wash and cut the kale, onion, leeks, or other veggies.
  2. Add veggies to a frying pan, and sauté along with oil, vegetable broth, salt, and pepper.
  3. Continue sautéing until onions are soft and kale is wilted.
  1. Add the savory stuffing to the pie crust.
  2. Top with a layer of vegan cheeze. I’ve had success with cheddar substitutes made by Daiya, Follow Your Heart, and So Delicious.
  3. Bake the pie for another 30-45 minutes or until warm and slightly brown on top.

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!

Roasted Veggies with Tahini Sauce: Linking Creativity and Self-Care

I never thought I’d be involved in recipe creation because, for years, I didn’t think of myself as a cook. I loved to eat, but I hated the time involved in food preparation. As I grew more interested in replicating foods (especially ones I’d try in restaurants or remembered from youth), I found more motivation to experiment in the kitchen. And as I thought of cooking as experimentation—as art, as play, as creative self-care—I could see why others liked it. I began to imagine myself as someone who similarly played with food.

I’m learning to experience cooking as play, and as play, cooking helps me embrace a both/and approach to self-care. It’s both relaxing, restoring, and rejuvenating and doing what’s hard, boring, and “adulting.” It’s both giving my body the nutrition it needs and enjoying the foods I eat.

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A few years ago, I consulted a naturopath (Dr. Sarah Axtell in Milwaukee), who helped me figure out my GI issues, taught me a lot about vegan eating, and accompanied me on a journey to heal my gut. She offered advice that has stuck with me, including the recommendation to make at least half of each meal veggies.

Even as a vegan, I struggle to meet this goal:
half of what I eat = vegetables.

Especially when traveling or eating out, it’s easy for meals to center around grains and beans, processed foods and sugars. Though I add spinach and other greens to smoothies, this is hardly half. And I regularly make a meal out of banana, chocolate, and peanut butter mash. Truly, I have to bring intention to eating more vegetables, and so I often plan meals starting with the veggies and building from there.

Luckily, I love roasted vegetables. Because I prefer to cook without recipes (with what’s on hand) and to cook simply (with less time investment), roasted vegetables are a great option. Just add salt, pepper, and oil, and pop them into the oven.

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A lot of roasted vegetables—mushrooms, eggplant, and fennel (pictured here), as well as carrots, potatoes, and other root veggies—taste great together and with tahini sauce, so I’ve learned to make full meals of vegetables with tahini.

Add a simple salad like this one of tomatoes, cucumbers, and parsley (in roughly equal proportion), and it’s a full meal. A meal I hope will become leftovers, because I’ll happily eat this for days.

What holds this meal together is the tahini sauce, which can be made thicker like dip or thinner like dressing. It’s salty, sweet, and savory goodness. There are a lot of quick-and-simple tahini recipes online like this one from the Minimalist Baker and this one from Vegan Richa. This recipe combines what I most enjoy from these (garlic, lemon, and oil) and can be easily adapted with other spices (cumin being my favorite). Here’s the rough recipe.


All of these measurements are estimates, and I adapt them to taste and to the amount I’d like to make at a given time (easily halving or doubling the recipe):

  • Tahini— ½ cup
  • Water—½ cup
  • Salt—1 teaspoon
  • Garlic—2+ cloves
  • Lemon juice—2 tablespoons to ¼ cup
  • Extra virgin olive oil—varies substantially … I add this in while blending to taste, starting with 1-2 tablespoons and typically adding closer to ¼ cup.

Note that more water or oil can be added to thin the sauce, while less makes it thicker.

Optional Add-ins:

  • Cumin, pepper, chili powder, or other spices. In the sauce pictured here, I’ve added ½ teaspoon of cumin, which gives it a kick.

Preparation Time:

  • 10 minutes, which includes the time of gathering ingredients from cabinets, combining all ingredients, and blending.


  • Put all ingredients into blender (I love my Vitamix because it can process full cloves of garlic), and blend until smooth, adding additional ingredients or more oil to taste.

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