Swedish Saffron Bread

After a lovely weekend class, I felt like making myself a treat. I've always wanted to use saffron in cooking, I wanted to know what it tastes and smells like, and I've heard the color is unparalleled. I spotted the spice when helping a friend clean out an entire kitchen. College is (was, alas!) full of freebies.
It felt wonderful to use and enjoy something so precious, and tell myself that I am worth a half-teaspoon of saffron. I can't wait to have this with poached eggs in the morning. Milk, eggs, a lot of butter and flour went into this recipe, but if I'm going to go all out, they look so good, and I couldn't substitute every single ingredient for something different that might be easier for me to eat. I mostly made this recipe to see if I could. Someone else can eat it.
The saffron turned a deep red when I soaked it (for 12 hours!), and it reminded me of the St. John'swort oil. Both plants are yellow but dye a deep clear red in extraction. In retrospect, maybe all that work with St. John'swort really turned things over for me. All about letting my light shine and directing my energy smoothly outwards. The recipe even called for 7 spiral shaped buns. So there we have it, my chakra healing class represented in food form.

Is this my lake? Is this the clear water of my reflective self? Tall water moving. Old water sleeping. The reservoir of being. When I picture a container, perhaps it should be a lake: spring-fed stream flowing in, river estuary flowing out, standing in the footprint of mountain ranges, mirroring my silver soul with the upside-down summits. What dreams are bourne across those waters, what secrets buried in their depths? The echoes of any sound I make can be heard from miles off, transmitted in a perfect crystalline whisper. I brook no interruptions in my musings but my mermaid mind merges with the waves of millfoil. Mine is a feathery, rolling sea, and if I were standing on a moor in England the heather tossing in the wind would remind me of it, as alfalfa and mugwort do, in the sighing fields of home. 'The tide! The tide!' young Keats would bellow, from the lookout of a pasture stile, and I would bound with him, pointing out the undersides of leaves visible on the nearest oak or maple, meaning that a storm is on the way.

I'm moving along the color of a honied dream.

how peaceful the rain

Put me in a painting from Japan.
Hiroshige, maybe.
I'll be a figure carrying water.
I'll push back my hat.
I'll say how lovely the sunrise looks
through the clouds around Mount Fuji.
And all of my extra lines will disappear,
the lines of hope, tangles of fear.
I'll be in the tender brushstrokes of a master:
quiet and serene as he loads ink on brush,
a curl of steam, his companion,
rising from the clay teacup at his side.
I'll be his creation while he makes ripples out of rain,
and then I'll carry home the bundle tied on my back,
sandals flipping away,
shedding the waters of contemplation.

I love the Literary Book of Answers, compiled advice from great works of literature. I always consult it when I visit a certain friend.

Question: What do I do now?
Answer: Thou must gather thine own sunshine.
Question: How do I find my own way?
Answer: Be still.
Question: How will I communicate what I find to other people?
Answer: You shall not fail.-- Sophocles, Oedipus Rex

I forgot to cite the first two answers.

Take the Cake

Or, A Happiness Unquation.
an anecdote that may explain a lot.
I am a passenger in a car. My friend is sitting next to me. On my lap is a beautifully decorated vegan cake. I am twenty-one, and I am excited because I can eat it without feeling bad later, and because there are pretty flowers and hearts all over it. I am so very happy to be holding a cake on my lap. I feel very special. Like a five-year-old. Like a five-year-old princess. Make that a fairy princess. You get the idea.
All of a sudden, I realize SOMETHING IS WRONG. I am happy. I am holding cake. I feel special. WHAT IF my friend sitting next to me is not feeling special, or like a five-year-old-fairy-princess?
What if she is upset because she doesn't get to hold the cake?
More to the point, what if she is upset because I feel special?
And so I offer to let her hold the cake.
She is bewildered by my offer. She is not aware that I felt so very happy about holding the cake, and it certainly won't make her as thrilled. She has no desire to hold the cake. She says so. We both laugh, and I grin sheepishly, clutching the cake a little tighter.
I reflect on the enormity of my errors in the areas of subjectivity and the transferability of happiness, as well as my own sense of self-worth. I refer to this incident as a "Take the Cake" scenario. I use it to measure whether I am denying myself enjoyment in a fruitless attempt to make others feel happy. Is this a Take the Cake scenario?

Positive heart impulses

Tonight I forgive myself for holding on too long to what no longer serves me.
I forgive myself for fearing to grow bigger than my censoring ego can criticize, to shine so bright that I cannot be stopped by doubts.
I forgive myself for wishing to keep myself small and invisible rather than to walk with my radiance revealed.
I forgive myself for believing anyone else's opinions over my own judgment.
I forgive myself for placing the happiness of others before my own, and choosing what does not serve me in an attempt to make others feel special.
I forgive myself for seeking approval from others, because I did not approve of myself.
I forgive myself for a deep-seated belief that 'I must be doing something wrong,'or that 'I'm not good enough.'
I forgive myself for acting out of desperate fear and hurting others.
I forgive myself for staying disconnected rather than listening to the hard truths of friendship.
I forgive myself for filling my mind with worry and doutbt instead of peaceful solitude.
I forgive myself for remaining tense and alert when there are no longer stressful stimuli.
I forgive myself for undoing knots with my left hand even as I tie them with my right.
I forgive myself for tying knots with my right hand even as I undo them with my left.

Some things which are new

the month of July
blueberry bushes
a Subaru Outback
brakepads for the Outback
socks (I'm really proud of this one)
a checking account
more television than I ever normally watch
a hammock with accompanying stand
an herb garden
hibiscus iced tea
a haircut
bills
postcards from Amsterdam
a vase of flowers
the finale of the latest Doctor Who
a craving for corn tortillas
homemade strawberry jam
a notebook and mittens that Danielle couldn't take to NM
a teapot that doesn't leak!
space for spiritual matters
a journal where I write three pages, every morning
books that are not texts for class
a cool spiral knitting pattern
affirmations like: I create the world that I live in
a swishy red linen skirt
a blue sundress covered in tulips
semi-effective bouts of cleaning and organizing
lavendar soap
a leaf I am turning over