via mnn.com
Breathtaking! Click on the link to go directly to the website– this is one of 11 such pictures.
Images of Earth as Art | MNN – Mother Nature Network
Day: April 7, 2011
Plum Trees and Planets: A Contemplation on the Beauty of Choice
This is an excerpt from a post that was first published in my private blog almost two years to the day today. I reproduce it today with a tinge of sorrow because the plum tree that is referenced here unfortunately does not exist any longer. It inexplicably died last year, much to my chagrin and deep puzzlement. Perhaps we had over-watered it, or perhaps it had become afflicted with some disease, we couldn’t quite figure it out. We had mourned its passing, yes, and its absence has changed the look of our backyard for sure. This year, as we usher in yet another season of Spring, I can’t help but think of the joy that it had brought us each year, this time of year.
But what’s ironical is this: the fact that my plum tree is no more, serves to make the point that I had set out to do in the first place, viz. the ability to choose our response to any condition is a beautiful power that we are bestowed with. We are not auto-programmed to respond in any one way only! In this case, I choose to celebrate the memory of my erstwhile plum tree. My plum tree brought many years of joy and beauty to our enviroment, nay, our lives itself, and so, today, instead of forgetting about it, or worse still, never bringing it to mind and speaking about it, I choose to use this grand platform to celebrate it! Thanks to the many pictures that were taken of it in its hey-day, I will show-and-tell of it for generations to come! And THAT is how the show goes on! Original post follows…
It’s all real. The good, the bad, the indifferent, the inexplicable, the inexcusable, the exquisite, and the mundane. It’s all here. It’s all happening. And it’s all always a mystery to me. I mean, I can never get over some things, no matter the regularity or frequency of occurrence. Take this plum tree, for example. Each spring, it begins to burst into bloom– timidly at first, and then quite shamelessly, once it gets started. And I wonder, is it at all possible to be like that plum tree, or any tree for that matter… i.e., to motivate oneself to bloom on cue, regardless of one’s immediate environment; to have an internal clock or compass that is programmed to allow for certain actions and responses no matter the physical and emotional landscape; to be guided by the movements of the major planets and moons, just like that, season after season.
But such is not the human condition. View this with a tinge of regret or a splash of pride: our “humanness” has no such internal programming in place. We do not bud or bloom on cue; we certainly do not have any external planetary orbits that determine our moods; we cannot look into the next day or week or month, let alone an extended piece of the future. We cannot go back in time to do or re-do those things that now seem important upon retrospect. So, what’s special about us? Well, what it is, is this: we have the ability to choose our responses. Every time. To every condition. And essentially, that is all that we are doing anyway, i.e., making a response– one breath at a time, one action at a time. Because, regardless of how much in control you think you are, the fact remains that there is only so much we can do to orchestrate our days. We think, and we plan, and we execute our thoughts and plans, and then, that’s it. Oh yes, we can sometimes predict the outcomes of our orchestrations, but that’s all they are: predictions, which may or may not come to pass as we might had imagined. Sometimes, our predictions are on the money; sometimes, they’re a total loss.
And so, we’re left facing the impossibility of our situations: we are in control, but only to the point of controlling our own responses and reactions to the events and happenings in our life. And the longer we live, I suppose we wizen up to this little truth: we cannot affect any desired outcome by sheer will-power from within, or any fancy engineering from without. All we can do is aim to get better with our responses. Because the control-levels may be modulated to our liking based on the kind of response we offer. And that’s a brilliant discovery!
So, much as I am the most ardent admirer of the plum tree and its blossoms, I will say this: I do not envy it for its most remarkable quality– its consistency. Because that quality is the antithesis of the human experience. There is nothing consistent and constant to the human condition and experience. There is, instead, the fascinating and sometimes startling element of surprise and unpredictability. And so, this morning, I’m here to proclaim and embrace the uniqueness of the constructs of this human condition– which although lacking in constancy and reliability, has some other things to its name– things like adaptability and resilience, and most impressively, things like the ability to choose one’s response to every one of life’s moments.
And that, my friend, is something to be pleased about. Because, no matter the circumstance of the moment, what you choose to do about it is what will determine what will become of it! That is the power within us, intrinsically and inherently– all ours.
So, may it be that we bask in this truth and use that power wisely, i.e., perhaps get better each time with the way we respond to everything that might come our way.
Ras Malai: A Sweet White Spongy Dessert for Anyday!
It’s white and spongy; it’s sweet, but not super-sweet; it’s covered in a sweet cream sauce and it has crushed pistachios and almonds on the top as a garnish. What is it? Well, it could be anything I suppose, but what this is, is an Indian dessert called Ras Malai.
It’s made with paneer (a form of cottage-cheese) that is formed into flat rounds, soaked in a sugar syrup briefly, then soaked in a sugared cream sauce and garnished with finely crushed nuts and saffron, and sometimes bearing a cardomom and a slight rose-water flavor.
You could make it at home, but then again, you could go to your Indian grocer and pick up a box of Ras Malais from his freezer. Either way, you’ll be in for a lovely treat. I was curious to look for a recipe online just now, and found also a lovely little Wiki entry on this dessert. Little did I know that Ras Malai originated in Orissa, an almost-forgotten state in the eastern part of India. Check it out here!
And to what do we all owe this little lesson on the Ras Malai, you ask? Well, we had it for dessert last evening, and it looked so lovely that I couldn’t help but whip out my phone-camera to capture a picture for posterity. And for this post, of course!
