Holy Macaroni

On Inch Photos & Music Always Music

"Awe is the moment when ego surrenders to wonder. This is our inheritance - the beauty before us". Terry Tempest Williams

This February I’ll be posting on different aspects of love.

Today’s poem is about loving and appreciating difference—and pasta. The world is so filled with what is original and delightful, beautiful and surprising. Even the things that challenge me in their difference might turn out to be an opportunity for wonder.

My mother’s family immigrated from Italy and so I grew up believing that noodles were to be considered the fifth elemental force…Earth, Water, Air, Fire and Pasta. I remember learning how we were to always compliment the host on their exceptional pasta by saying, “(Insert host’s name here) I don’t know what you do that makes it so special, but today your pasta is the very very best.” The pleased host would rattle off a list of ingredients (real deal olive oil, basil, oregano and thyme, fresh pasta, romano cheese from a particular shop in Chicago’s Little Italy, etc) Of course they would ultimately leave something out because, well, because in my Italian family, there are just some secrets you were expected to take to your grave - including just how much marjoram you put in your marinara sauce. I remember how in the summertime my mother would make all us kids strip down to our undershirts and then tie a dish towel loosely around our necks —because ultimately there would be more sauce on our faces, chins and chests than anywhere else.

Later as an adult I learned to make hand rolled versions of many Italian pasta classics, which delighted me to no end with all the possible variations.

Now, I should also say that the appreciation of noodle-ish things was present on both sides of my family. My Grandmother Newcomer’s people were Amish farm folk and so a vital part of my childhood education would need to include my grandmother showing me how to use a heavy rolling pin, how to flour, turn and roll out the elastic dough that would snap back like rubber bands — and finally cut it with a sharp knife into home style farm noodles.

There are so many ways to make a noodle, so many ways to combine water and flour, maybe an egg and a little oil, into something that makes grownups smile and little kids need copious dish towel drape-age.

So here’s the poem…it’s starts out about pasta, but then there’s more. Because when it comes to love and wonder— there is always more.

(Note: I know that a paid supporting subscription is not in everyone’s budget, and so there will always be free content for all. But a deep bow of gratitude to all the supporting subscribers that make this online gathering place and creative endeavor possible! )

Holy Macaroni
By Carrie Newcomer

Thank you for Italians 
Who could not leave well enough alone,
Who after discovering the blessed land
Of rolled flour and water,
Went right ahead and created 
An entire continent of pasta.
Little bits of orzo that look like
Short grain rice with its cheeks puffed out,
Flat ribbons of fettuccine and frilly bow ties,
Smooth and ridged tubes of penne, rigatoni, macaroni and manicotti,
Orecchiette shaped like the curve of a child's perfect ear,
Ravioli and tortellini, those carefully folded love notes 
Filled with savory secret stashes,
Silky strands like the hair of an angel
If angels were made of water and wheat.

Thank you for flowers, 
Infinitely astounding,
The tiny ones that push up from the snow
And the last leggy stems of purple asters 
Blooming among the fallen leaves.
Thank you for zinnias and sunflowers, 
Dahlias and hollyhocks
For snooty cultivated roses,  
And for the quiet but dauntless
Wild trout-lily and trillium.

Thank you for owls that glide on soundless wings
For cooing doves and lonesome whippoorwills,
For layers of feathers and the beating of wings
For hawks and phoebes, wrens and finches
For the cranky Jays and sweet chicka dee dee dees. 
For tails that lift and talons that grasp
For a wood thrush call you've waited since September to hear.

Thank you for a ridge line of beech, maples and oak
Yellow poplars and shag-bark hickory, 
With skin like etched canyons
Or as smooth as a woman’s arm,
For their variety and color
For their fruit and foliage
And how they wave in the wind
and dig deep into the ground
Speaking in a language 
Too old and slow 
For us brilliant but brief 
Mere mortals to hear. 

Thank you for all the many kinds of people
The tender and audacious 
Humble and proud
With their unimaginable courage,
The ones who keep tipping buckets of love 
Out onto the dry floorboards of a weary world.

And thank you even 
For the impossible people 
Who perplex and annoy me, 
The ones who royally piss me off,
Who keep asking me to learn something important,
About being a better human,
About creating rings of safety,
And when to shake off the dust
And when to dig in my heels. 

Thank you for pasta in all its forms and shapes
Holy macaroni in all its many guises,
For botany and biology
Geology and ornithology
A million variations of eight tones
That tumble like dice 
Into another perfect song.

Question

What do you think about this idea that difference is wondrous, exciting, beautiful, heart opening? What do you think about the idea that a challenging difference (as hard as it can sometimes be) might also be a opportunity for learning, digging deeper and clarifying.

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Comments I loved this week….

Envisioning more than you ever will see keeps you walkin’ ahead. - Jack Ridl

“‘I was humming the song, They started for me’ Great reminder that we may choose to stand on the shoulders of giants. We can listen to and link arms with Havel, Thurman, von Suttner, King, Mandela, Bonheoffer, Parks, Heschel, Addams, family members and unrecognized folks who are also a part of the conversation. When we’re centered in our personal integrity and an abiding love for ourself and others, then all the seeds planted are ours to tend and to harvest.” Karen Wagner

“Years ago, when I was working at a college in upstate New York, I had a few minutes between minutes between meetings, so I I invited into my office a student who was waiting to see my colleague. I chatted casually for a few minutes with this student who I had never met before. She was a senior. Months later, as her graduation approached, she appeared in my office doorway and announced that she had a gift for me. I smiled and said, “How kind of you! What’s the occasion?”She said, “Last fall when we were talking you told me something that changed my life” I have no idea what I had told her.” Cozad Taylor

“All to often we get overwhelmed and think that we have to do this all by ourselves. But if each one of us would use and share our talents for good, whatever they might be, the world would definitely be a better place.” Mitch Proctor

"I saw ... that there was an ocean of darkness and death, but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness." (George Fox). May it be so.” Brent Bill

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Music Always Music

This is a song called “A Light In The Window” from A Permeable Life. May we all be a light for one another…may we always see the light shining in the window. In the darkest times, the stars are exceptionally bright.

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Concerts and Retreats

I’m looking forward to sharing music, gathering together, singing together, creating together….in these trouble days gathering to share songs is a powerful and sustaining thing - for more information and to get your tickets visit. Many of the shows this season are expected to sell out, so reserve your tickets early,

http//:www.carrienewcomer.com/tour

One Inch Photos

not so much one inch today…but during the snowstorm a flower my friend gave me for the holidays bloomed! Also some views of our little valley in the snow and a woodpecker on my feeder…knowing she’s gorgeous!