Loving Lupins

The first things that caught my eye at the accommodation in Kinloss were the lupins. Majestical and noble, they were standing guard at the entrance of the path up to the house. Although their spines looked very straight, they were far from stiff, with their delicate, pea-like flowers growing in dense whorls around a tall spike in a soft apricot abundance. ‘Welcome!’ they waved to me as I entered further, and was pleasantly distracted by a group of bright red Papaver orientalis surrounded by at least five different colours of aquilegias. “This looks good!” I exclaimed. “I like this little garden.” 

The owner of this temporary home, at the moment in Canada until mid July, immediately recognised the herbaceous perennial plant on the photo I sent. Last year his woman friend had taken some of its seeds — which come in a pod as fruit— to sow in her own Canadian garden. Two gardens, two people on different sides of the earth, connected by lupins and love. Most likely they grow very well there.

There are many species of the Lupinus albus and perennis, and they grow everywhere in Europe. For thousands of years they have been found around the Mediterranean, as well as in North and South America, where, it has been discovered, especially in the Andes, the legume seeds or beans have been grown for food for 6000 years. From my agricultural years in the Netherlands, I remember that farmers grow them as green manure, to nourish the soil. A meadow full of these yellowish flowers looks astonishing. Nowadays the lupin bean is increasingly popular as food again, as a healthier alternative to soya beans. Full of protein. An antioxidant and a prebiotic. And gluten free!

I would start to grow them in my veggie patch right away. Lupins. And more lupins. Partly to nourish and heal the body, partly as an ornamental flower to heal my heart and to brighten my days.

Now bring me that garden! As that is still missing. With a house, my long-term home to be. Yes, please!

© Blog 46, photo and text  9th June 2016, Kinloss.  © Adriana Bijman    

This is a shortened version, the whole version will be in the upcoming book!

Illness: Dark & Light

I am living in the twilight, in the middle of a journey. The door of the past — with its healthy body in a very busy life— has been closed and it is not clear where the road will take me.

“Illness is a simple though painful reminder that we are not the masters of our bodies and our lives” writes Kat Duff (1).Illness is a humbling experience and as such I think, can bring some gifts in disguise. Insights wrapped up as setbacks, in the Game of Life.

After seven months of gradually increasing symptoms, discomfort and pains, instead of a slow or quick recovery, I have to accept and learn to live with this, like many people with long term illnesses have to. It has turned my life upside down, thrown me out of my comfort zone and the fulfilment of a hardworking busy life. It makes me stand apart, in another category, that of the ill, the weak, the elderly, the non-productive. It is a different journey. It feels like that, even here, in a community on a spiritual base, where most people always seem to be so busy and often are on the edge of being burned out, trying to do so well, to save the world or at least save our community. Or simply trying to earn a living and be able to control the ongoing incoming stream of bills. Like I did over the last decades.

At first this big change brought up feelings of tension, guilt and questioning “Why me?” Feeling a bit of a victim. At times I even blamed myself for it from the point of view of certain schools of psychology, that ‘with our thoughts we create our own reality’, so why did I create this? And why can’t I now immediately create a healthy body. It is easy to stumble into that pitfall of being at fault and responsible for illness ourselves. These thoughts are absolutely not helpful to me now. It does not mean I am not willing to look at a deeper personal cause of what my body is doing and how I can help to get out of this predicament; how to make my journey towards a better life. How I can make peace with the symptoms. How we can become allies instead of enemies and how we can start to work for the same goal. For me a goal of balance.

Since I was a young girl, my whole life has been an experience of learning how to have and maintain independence. Although I now know we all are inter-dependent, it is a tough journey to learn to ask for help. I can already feel grateful for and see the advantages of newly learned qualities like patience and slowing down. The ‘being dependent’ and compassion are in progress, so to speak. I’ve always been a multi-tasker, a quick thinker and doer. Slowing down, especially to prevent more accidents with my vertigo-dizziness and only partial eyesight, makes me clumsy. I walk like a drunken sailor. Out of doors with crutches, for my own safety. Constantly having to balance myself is exhausting but also contains the lesson of balancing the way of life. How to bring more balance into my, our lives?  How to bring some light in the darkness? The light of keeping up my spirit, my hope, my goals of renewed good health.

Simple but at times exhausting survival activities like washing, getting dressed, shopping nearby and cooking easily fill my days, next to time to rest.  ”How did I ever have time to work?” I grin and wonder. Too tired to pick up a pen or pencil during the daytime, texts like this only come in the sleepless dark hours of the night, scribbled on and in between the lines, which I can hardly distinguish. It does not matter: I recognised the words and pass them on to you here, as part of my journey. On my way to more light.

© text and photo: Adriana Bijman. photo in the bus at the A96 to Inverness, along the Moray First Coast, 2015.

(1) The Alchemy of Illness, 1993 p 59.

Blog 42, Winter 2015/2016

Rain and more rain

We write the end of August. There were other deadlines to catch, health to attend to and balance to gain, so that I forgot to write a blog-story, to choose a photograph, one way or the other. Finally here it is, simple this time. But no good news, sorry.

I liked to photograph the rain, as that did not seem to stop here. From a drizzle to pouring waves. We are in a part of the world  (northern Scotland) where there is a bounty of water coming down, actually like in some parts of India and South America, where rivers are flooding this August.  I have not seen it on the news, but learned about it during my studies (world) Spanish. Like the flooding of the immense river-basin which is said to be the most polluted in the world, the Riachuelo-Matanza, situated in a densely populated and industrious region, north of the Río de la Plata in Argentina. It worries me.  In other parts of the world they suffer from drought. I think until now we have underestimated climate changes.

As Climate Central reports: “Even if the world manages to limit global warming to 2C — the target number for current climate negotiations — sea levels may still rise at least 6 meters (20 ft) above their current heights, radically reshaping the world’s coastline and affecting millions in the process.”* This is no good news.  And will we manage? The reality might even be worse than all predictions, especially for the ‘underdeveloped’ and poor areas on our planet.

And it continues to rain outside.

Blog 40, text & phtoo ©: Adriana Sjan Bijman

*Brian Kahn, 2015, Guardian Environmental Network, www.theguardian.com/environment/2015/july  

Signs of Summer

Peonies in my garden, June 2015

Signs of summer. Well, it is June and I still have the heating on, so that’s not such a good sign. But in my garden! The daily changes in the plants are the signs of summer for me. Take the strawberry plants: from a delicate white flower to a little ball in its centre, to slowly growing into a real recognisable strawberry fruit, although still yellowish. Is that not a little miracle in itself?  To see the bright yellow flowers appear on the zucchini, the swelling of the blackberries, the pink and lilac roses… and as a highlight to see the many peonies open and be present in all their majesty. I love it! 

Signs of summer

Slowly appearing in the garden

Sensual

Radiant red

Ravishing Titian red

Rebellious red

Beetroot, blood and radishes,

Nevertheless sweet, as strawberries

Slowly appearing in the garden

With generosity, like the smile of a lover.

And a longing heart

Heated, redder than red, helpless suddenly

When She appeared in my garden.

Signs of summer

Bewildering peonies: the Paeoniaceae

Gorgeous poppies: the Papaverus orientalis and rhoeas

Zinging zestful zinnias: the Zinnea peruviana

To name but a few of them.

Blog 38, text and photo © Adriana Sjan Bijman, June 2015