looking at art

A few weeks ago I went to the Chicago Art Institute. I always feel rejuvenated after visiting an art museum. It pulls me out of my head and distracts me from all the mundane things I worry about unnecessarily on a daily basis. This trip seemed long over-do, and somehow reflecting on it now makes me realize how much this past month was recovering from the prior five.

I began by studying some photographs, comparing the differences between printing and developing methods, reading the name of each artist, title, and materials. Then I set out through the contemporary building and decided that I was not going to read anything. Instead I would just focus on the painting itself – I could only take in so many words and changing my focus constantly was becoming somewhat dizzying. Often though, I couldn’t help myself and I needed the curator’s enlightening descriptions. I made my way through a few connected rooms and, quite pleased with what I had seen, stepped back into the hallway. Suddenly overwhelmed by how much was housed in a single wing of this building, I considered calling it a day - until I thought of all the beautiful paintings that would be in the next room over, so many artists I love. I decided that I had to walk through a few more rooms, just to be in the presence of such beauty and wonder. I stood to look at a painting, but rather than study it I let the whole room flood over me, with such richness that it far surpassed any one masterpiece.

Somehow my few hours immersed in artwork mirrored my recent experiences as a third year medical student, at least in sentiment. I have many stories to tell, each of them great on their own, but all together they make up something greater. Something I don’t yet have the words for and maybe never will. But it is wonderful, this mixture of excitement and anxiety, sadness and relief, complete engagement and detachment. And there has been an overarching sense of being overwhelmed. Not in the way I felt overwhelmed by the massive amount I had to learn in anatomy, not a sense of something being unconquerable or time being too short, but such a flood of experience that I will need some time to pull myself up out of the water before I can reflect on it all.

In contrast to all that, my few days of Christmas vacation have been so beautifully simple. I’m back in Texas, and I think that adds to the feeling, both for its reminder of my youth as well as the basic kindness of strangers that goes hand in hand with southern hospitality. I’ve been relishing in walks through the neighborhood, blue skies, green leaves still hanging to trees, and lazy mornings with my family. I think it’s the perfect transition into the new semester, with a new confidence that I know what I want to do with my future, and a renewed connection with the idea of becoming not just a doctor but a healer.

I saw some art again today. This time it was the Menil Collection, a much more manageable, focused collection of art. I walked through the naturally lit rooms, surrounded by beauty, and felt like I was able to take it all in and process it to some degree. My last stop was the Rothko Chapel, and left with a profound feeling of peace.

I hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas and are filled with love and joy as we begin to look towards the new year.

could scarcely fill a cup

My friends and family in Texas are suffering from drought and heat that is far worse than any summer I can remember and is setting all kinds of records. Meanwhile, I'm dreading the coming of winter. Already. And it's only August. I have never ever wanted summer to drag out as long as possible, but I definitely do now. 

I have also really enjoyed finding ways to adapt to the warmer weather.  It's been fun to make smoothies and drink really cold ice water or tea. My cat also has a new love for ice cubes. He comes running every time he hears the freezer door open. I like the sound of the fan whirring beside my bed at night, and the feel of cold water at the end of a lukewarm shower, and avoiding turning the stove on, and farmers markets, and waking up early when the sun has already risen and it stays out late, too. I'm really soaking up the sun and warmth and just being outside as much as possible.

I want to share these thoughts with you because I wrote so much of the previous seasons here in Chicago: the vibrant colors of autumn, the joy of snow in the winter, the unending gray, the glorious blooming bursting forth of spring. The cycling of seasons has inspired so much art and poetry, I believe, because it is a great metaphor for life. Actually, I suppose because it is life. No metaphor about it. We live and die, things end and begin, we move from one stage to the next and we change but somehow are still the same being with the same core. I recently had a lecture on aging and the elderly that presented approaching death in such a beautiful light. Here is a quote that was shared by Fredrick Buechner: “What is lost is nothing to what is found. And all the death there ever was set next to life, could scarcely fill a cup!” Of course, death can be a terrifying thing to think about. It can also be lovely and exciting, but we need some things to remind us of that - family and friends, feeling loved and loving, mostly faith. Also the changing of seasons.

I do have a recipe to share with you as well. It's one that I make pretty often and am even willing to use the stove top when it's hot outside for this one. It's simple and delicious. This is one I think you'll enjoy any time of year. I can't really give you amounts because anything works, just adjust it for how much you think you will eat/how much you want leftovers.

Mushrooms and Greens with an Egg on Top:

olive oil

mushrooms, sliced

greens like kale, beet, collard, etc. roughly chopped or torn

red wine

salt and pepper

egg(s)

cheese - Parmesan or Swiss

bread (optional)

Begin by heating the olive oil (not too hot - if it smokes you're converting those good fats into bad fats) and adding the mushrooms to the pan.

Toss occasionally, put the lid on if they're getting drier than you like. When they start to get dark around the edges add a splash of red wine to de-glaze the pan.

Add in your greens and toss.

Put the lid on so they basically just steam from the moisture left on the greens from washing. (You did wash them, right?)

Remove the lid, salt and pepper to taste, let them cook longer if they need to dry out at all. I like my mushrooms to be a bit crispy and my greens just on the edge of over-cooked.

In the meantime, fry an egg or two. Or poach them.

 

Serve with grated Parmesan or torn Swiss cheese on top, salt and pepper to taste. It's also good served on top of a slice of bread, especially if you have some extra moisture or really runny yolks to make the bread a bit mushy.

post script: and on an almost totally unrelated note, I just fell in love with this.

time to reflect

The last two months have gone by so quickly and the past six weeks have been so crazy I haven't really had time to let it all soak in. It was my last summer in Denton so my goal was to wind down on my work schedule, say my good-byes, and prepare myself for medical school. I also took a French class because I have no idea when I will be able to do something like that again. I did have a few episodes of feeling worried about preparing for the move to Chicago and about what awaits me when I begin medical school. I was finally beginning to feel like I had things under control when something crazy happened - my husband, a friend and I were hit by an 18-wheeler on I-35 on our way back from Dallas. We are incredibly fortunate that none of us were injured, but this added a few complications to our plans. We are still dealing with the Canadian insurance company and are in the process of buying a new car. Every time I get upset Ian reminds me, we should just be thankful that we are alive to be frustrated. How true that is. I am so glad that I am alive and healthy enough to do yoga, and to love my friends and family, and to work on becoming a doctor, and to enjoy this beautiful world...

After the accident I realized that I was really happy with how I had spent the previous month. I didn't review the notes from each of my undergraduate biology courses, nor did I memorize all the vocabulary in my Spanish for Medical Professions book; but I did spend a lot of time with my friends, and now I see that that really was the most important thing I could have done.

I got to be part of a dear friend's beautiful wedding.

I taught myself more about photography while figuring out my new camera.

I saw a humpback whale and her calf in Cape Cod.

I received a lesson in Indian cooking from my organic chemistry professor and her mother.

I shared some fantastic meals with friends.

I strengthened some old relationships and made some amazing new ones.

We had a Spanish-style going away party - complete with paella, sangria, and music.

I said good-bye to my coworkers, the hospital, the university, the new-age hippie town that has been home for the past five years, my friends, and finally I said good-bye to a big, beautiful Texas sky.