There is at least one pumpkin on the kitchen counter, or in the refrigerator each week. For this year we’ve had pumpkin soup, ducana, noodle soup, chicken soup, pepperpot, and other dishes filled with pumpkin. However, a few weeks ago my mother complained that the pumpkins that we were receiving lately were tasteless. She decided not to use them, and I decided I would try something. I did. The pudding was a hit.
A Pumpkin/Coconut/Carrot Pie
1 sm. Turmeric (1 in long)
3 tbsp.Sugar (White)
2 tsp. Cayenne powder
3 tbsp. Oil
2 cups Water
1 cup Milk
2 cups Flour
Remove the coconut from it’s shell. Peel the carrots, pumpkin and tumeric. Grate them. Add sugar and cayenne powder. Combine the oil and water, and then the flour. Butter and dust your baking pan. Pour the mixture into the pan. And put the pan in the oven preheated to 350 degrees. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes.
This is not a food post.
But, it is exactly what I did on Friday when I should have been writing a post for one of my blogs, and a poem for the PAD challenge. However, I didn’t feel like writing and the desire to make something, which rears its head occasionally, would not settle itself. Of course the time it took could have been quartered with a blender. But that’s not one of my luxuries. Thankfully, after completing the recipe I was at ease and was able to complete the challenge.
The spark to write: it’s not always there, and yet it always is.
The forever craving to produce lies beneath the surface of the mind. Sometimes, it is a smoky bliss, thin and whispering, sometimes thick and blinding, sometimes a few encouraging sparks, sometimes a hungry, unrelenting blaze. This is the desire to write much like breathing, always present. And like breathing the desire is not always noticed. So that I can go days and weeks without the smoke being a bother, never months though.
At times, I have the luxury of inhaling, allowing it to become apart of me as I am intoxicated and follow its path into my own desires, as I become the blaze. At other times it stifles me as my emotions tie my hands to the bed, as everyday life, and “work” shackle my creativity to the ground. Because, you see, my body, mind, and emotions need to be on the same plane to make writing a reality.
It’s a reality I love and live for but it is one I cannot always experience. I aim to incorporate it into my days more and more, mostly through poetry, my most favoured genre when writing. It is the most emotionally freeing. As a self-proclaimed writer I write (news) articles and blog posts. But at times despite writing at least three works weekly, I don’t feel as though I have, unless I’ve written a poetic piece. Oddly research papers give me an odd pleasure much like, very similar to poetry-writing.
I will continue striving to be a better writer in every genre I interact with. I will continue to embrace the whispers of inspiration. I will continue to write that which ignites my universe.
I’ll be here next Tuesday with post on a few inspirational biographies which have impacted my beliefs and life.