maandag 13 april 2015
Day for the zen meditation groups in Holland
zaterdag 4 april 2015
Happy Easter, with or without gluten...
Is it because of our chemical manipulated food that we become more and more intolerant or even allergic to gluten or milkproducts?
Or is it because of the quality of our food that the number of people that become sick from eating bread increases?
On the web I learn that wheat is like a poison and there heas been much manipulations with it, so that it has different qualities nowadays. Qualities that are not good for our health. But on another webpage I learn that this is totally nonsense, and that there is no scientific evidence for this.
Companies are taking advance of this aversion of people against gluten. You can buy gluten free beer. And gluten free ice or pineapples. But actually, there are no gluten in ice or pineapples. But they sell it 'glutenfree', because people want to buy it.
I'm not a foodexpert. But I'm a cook. And that's why it concerns me. When I cook for groups nowadays it appears that there are five times as much people with a diet than three years ago. And for me, as a cook, that is becoming a little bit too much...
So I ask myself:" how is it possible that the amount of diets has increased so fast?" I don't have an answer to that question. At the Noorder Poort, where I work, we have now the rule that we only take care of diets when it is accompanied with a disposition of a doctor. This rule diminishes the amount of diets a lot.
This weekend I cook for a group of thirty people. Two people have a diet. I'm going to make a nice Easter brunch on the second Easter day. With homemade Easterbread. And eggs from hens that have much space to move.
I hope it becomes a happy Easter for everybody. With or without gluten.
dinsdag 31 maart 2015
maandag 23 maart 2015
The door of compassion
Call Me by My True Names
Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh






