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dessert

Going through Hell Realms is so much easier when you have good food to accompany you!  One of the participants at our day-long retreat brought this cake along.  Luckily, mindful consumption was not on the practice agenda that day.  I had three pieces… well… a sliver and THEN two pieces.

Moist Chocolate Cake

No one will believe this chocolate cake is made with cooked quinoa; no flour required.

This recipe is kid-friendly, gluten-free and vegetarian. (Has nothing to do with nourishment for the soul!)

Serves 12

– 2/3 cup (160 mL) white or golden quinoa
– 1 2/3 cups (330 mL) water
– 1/3 cup (80 mL) milk
– 4 large eggs
– 1 teaspoon (5 mL) pure vanilla extract
– 3/4 cup (185 mL) butter, melted and cooled
– 1 1/2 cups (375 mL) white or cane sugar
– 1 cup (250 mL) unsweetened cocoa powder
– 1 1/2 teaspoon (7.5 mL) baking powder
– 1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) baking soda
– 1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) salt

1. Bring the quinoa and water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Cover, reduce to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave the covered saucepan on the burner for another 10 minutes. Fluff with a fork and allow the quinoa to cool.

2. Preheat the oven to 350 F (180 C). Lightly grease two 8-inch (20-cm) round or square cake pans. Line the pans with parchment paper.

3. Combine the milk, eggs and vanilla in a blender or food processor. Add 2 cups (500 mL) of cooked quinoa and the butter and continue to blend until smooth.

4. Whisk together the sugar, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a medium bowl. Add the contents of the blender and mix well. Divide the batter evenly between the 2 pans and bake on the centre oven rack for 40 to 45 minutes or until a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean. Remove the cake from the oven and cool completely in the pan before serving.

Frost if desired. (No.  Really?)

5. Store in a sealed container in the refrigerator for up to 1 week or freeze for up to 1 month. (In this family?)

Per serving: 279 calories, 35.7 g carbohydrates, 260 mg sodium, 8.5 g saturated fat (Without frosting… in case you thought you could fool yourself!)


Thank you for practicing,

Genju

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99 buddhas on the wall

I woke up (I wish!) with a silly refrain in my head: 99 Buddhas on the wall, 99 more to go.  Take one down, pass it around… 98 more to go…

So far, my commitment to creating 108 Buddha calligraphies is bringing up interesting issues about practice.  This is Buddha9 which means my brain was doing some strange arithmetic as I was sleeping.  There really are 99 more to do.  Or maybe that’s the pointy-end of practice for me.  There are no more to do except that I think there are.  But that’s important too.  The practice of Zen is about not doing which, in the Ourobouros of Zen, is about noticing what the doing is.  What I notice when I get the brush and ink ready is all the arising hope that this one line will define the direction of who I can be, will shape the container of my joys and pain.  That’s a lot ask from masticated fibers, a patch of horse hair bound in a wooden handle and a concoction of pigment and glue.  Honestly, what am I thinking!

And therein lies the problem.  The Thinking Brain comes online and the next thing I know there is this mound of crumpled “not-good-enough’s” on the floor.  Practice with these Buddhas has become watching that Thinking Brain and with gentleness, escorting it to the mental couch where it can rest.  What research there is on burn out and trauma shows that recovery is in allowing different parts of the brain to come out and play.  But there’s no wisdom in waiting until burn out happens.  I like to see each Buddha that pours out of the brush as a buffer or a deposit in the bank of resilience. Allowing each one to be just what it is without judgement of the line, balance, composition or anything contrived is tough – and the pokey part of practice.

Dealing with loss and grief is not much different.  I’ve never lost a child, but in walking with parents who have, the depth of that pain seems insurmountable.  And yet, and yet, they go on.  What I’ve learned from these amazing teachers is that in my pain what I want most is for it to be different – and by that I usually mean: it would be nice if it was over.  So, I ask myself: what might happen if I let go of wanting this experience to end?

The answers are a fascinating revelation of the need for self-compassion.

Thanks to Jay at DigitalZendo for this link to Thay’s talk on Suffering & Compassion:

Thank you for practicing,

Genju