Think of how you eat your meals. Do you taste each bite? Does your plate empty before you have the opportunity to enjoy your meal? If you’re a parent, are you eating each bite for yourself, or do you cram the food in as quickly as possible before the kids need you again? Do you sit fully in front of your plate, or are you positioned to the side, ready to leap to the next activity. Do you eat at a table, or on your desk next to the computer?

Growing attention is being given to the Slow Food movement. Originating in Italy, its followers urge us to rediscover the joy in eating. The origin of the food, the style of preparation, and the unique flavors are all to be appreciated. No more cramming meals in while we are checking emails.

I bought a chest of drawers today on craigslist, and met a treasure of a woman. She was an extraordinary ordinary woman – a mother, a professional, and a self-confessed former shopaholic. Somehow, as we discussed her dresser, there emerged a deeper exchange about the changes in each of our lives and the world around us.

We shared our deep desire for life to slow down, mourning the hectic nature of modern life. She shared her desire to step out of the routine and into a simpler, more authentic way of being. She said that she isn’t shopping now like she used to, and that she is beginning to explore alternative health care approaches. A woman yearning for change, feeling the possibility of it just around the corner and not sure what it is she will need to do to grasp it.

I love cruising webpage after webpage of Craigslist classified ads in categories that range from farm and garden, to arts and crafts. I love the unexpected treasures I have found there. The hutch made from reclaimed railway ties that holds my sewing and knitting supplies with such grace. The palki from india, once a bridal carriage, now a reading nook for me and the boys. The beautiful solid wood bunk beds that unexpectedly also included organic mattresses, all for only $100. And of course the housemates we found in the rental section who became dear friends.

The Stuff

I love getting rid of stuff just as much as I love finding fabulous new stuff. In preparation for a recent move we went through wave after wave of cleansing. Each time we walked through our home there were new things that we were now ready to let go of. In the process we discovered that things can mean something to us at one stage in our life, and then maybe are better off having the opportunity to be special for someone else. Craigslist was a constant companion in those months of cleansing, and I had to discipline myself not to cruise the “for sale” section.

I’m about to teach a weekend Birthing From Within prenatal class. Eight couples will walk through the door of the midwifery clinic tonight, each seeking something different.

They will arrive with a mix of emotions that I suppose any teacher might expect on the first day of school: curiosity, fear, eager anticipation, and even occasional dread. A prenatal class tends to conjure up images of pillows, old-school breathing patterns and birth videos. But in Birthing From Within prenatal classes, my presence in the room is as a mentor rather than teacher. Most of them have no idea what a difference this approach will make in their experience this weekend.

Over the next three days they will indeed learn a lot about the stages of labor and what to expect along the way from birth to baby. The more they learn, the more their questions abound, some asked within the class, some in quiet corners during snack breaks, and some unspoken.

I have a house husband.

After years of waking up in the morning wondering how on earth I was going to juggle work, kids, household and self-care, for the past week I have opened my eyes knowing I don’t have to do it all anymore. It’s a strange feeling, this certainty that I can give work my full attention.

My loving husband is home with the boys for now, and I am deeply thankful. He brings loving imaginative parenting to our sons, boundless energy, and a healthy dose of the outrageous into their daily lives. He also makes fantastic chocolate zucchini cake, and has this mostly endearing quality of having difficulty telling the difference between a green onion and a green bell pepper.

Changing Roles

This change in our household is far more complex than I had anticipated. I am still trying to wrap my head around letting go of juggling it all, and releasing a large share of the household work and the daily caring for our children. The juggling was in many ways a source of connection with other mothers, a kind of camaraderie. There is a certain self-sacrificial romance about simply not having had time to get your hair cut. I also have to accept that there will be days when they are off together on play dates or swimming at the river and I am sitting here glued to my computer. The sense of loss cannot be denied.

It is 5 p.m. After a long day of work we know it is time to go home. The temptation of one more mail, and just finishing up that one final project is strong, and too often the “few extra minutes” lead to 15, then 30, then 60 and before we know it we’re late for dinner. We walk in the door, eat quickly and launch into the bedtime routine with the kids. Another day has passed.

A habit is, by definition, an “acquired mode of behavior that has become nearly or completely involuntary.” As a habit, it does not require reflection or conscious decision making, but rather emerges as an ingrained behavior.

The term “a nasty habit” referring to everything from smoking to watching late night television, suggests that a habit may not always be one that is healthy for our body or spirit.

A New Direction

The wooden horn sounds for the first time at OUR Ecovillage, where our family is living for a month. The horn is handmade of wood, with soft curves and a weight that makes it oh so satisfying to lift up and blow. Each member of the community has a unique style of blowing the horn – from the short toot to an echoing two-toned blow that must travel for miles. It is blown once to awaken us (from our beds and our work), and twice to summon us to the table, where Jan, our wondrous cook has prepared yet another extraordinary meal from the ingredients found in our garden. This time, it is telling us that dinner is almost ready.

[By Sarah Juliusson, whose dear friends forced her to take a bubble bath today, fed her chocolate and cheese, and took her laundry home with them.]

Friendships are a complex thing. We hold them dear as confidants, co-conspirators, and collaborators as we go through life. There are friends who are simply a wonderful part of our lives, with whom we laugh and go on adventures and share ideas and resources. Then there are the few and far between friends with whom we not only laugh but also get to cry, who share in our beauty alongside our times of sadness, anger, and fear. We should all have at least one good friend like that. The lucky among us have several.

I never liked Thanksgiving much. Actually I have always loved the celebration of the harvest with a Thanksgiving meal, just not the food. Even in childhood I just didn’t like meat. Yams with marshmallows? Yuck. Mashed potatoes—generally yummy, just not with gravy. Stuffing inspired a special kind of gag reflex. Even cranberry sauce just didn’t do it for me. I will readily admit a great love for homemade apple pie, but pecan pie—not so much.

A Vegetarian Thanksgiving

Becoming a vegetarian in my late teens I was ecstatic when Thanksgiving rolled around. Not only did I now have a valid excuse to not eat that horrible turkey stuff, but I also had an opportunity to show off my vegetarian cuisine. Thanksgiving became a unique challenge to cook something even more delicious than the turkey so that all the meat eaters would covet my meal rather than enjoying their turkey. Over the years each Thanksgiving holiday meal has brought out the best in my culinary skills, with long hours spent pouring over cookbooks in search of a recipe both unusual and scrumptious enough to take grand prize at the family dinner table.