Wisdom is a Different Kind of Smart

Maggie With Her Hand in the Jaw
(Artwork on wall on building near Eastern Market-Detroit)

It took me many years to realize, I'm smart.  And longer to realize, I'm capable of learning beyond what I imagined.  

I know wisdom is a different kind of smart.  The realization of having wisdom has come slowly for me.  Painfully.  I've had to earn my patches in wisdom, one by one.  Link by link.  When the links in this chain breaks, (which it inevitably does), I have to pick up the links, sort through them, and re-attach them.  One by one.  They don't always end up in the same order.  But, they seem to get me through the next hurdle in life.  

Just reading the wise thoughts and stories of others, doesn't quite lead toward earning the patches. I sang Carol King's song, "Home Again", for years. 

  "Snow is cold, rain is wet, chills my bones right to the marrow, I won't be happy till I see you,

    alone again, till I'll be home again and feeling right."

Detroit, Michigan

Home isn't just a place.  The wisdom leaks in when I let myself return to who I am.  My past, my roots and my heart, is my home.  To get wiser, (and perhaps stronger), I learn how to acknowledge each part of me.  Each is an essence, a link, put together in a long chain to hold me up. 

My "Widsom-Chain" has become sturdier.  Stronger and more capable of handling the amount of weight life expects it to hold.  The less I resist the weight, the more it shares the burden. 

I returned from Turkey two weeks ago.  I dreaded not having delicious foods so easily available.  Savory recipes, unique spices, mouth watering spreads of food choices.

Outside Small Shop in Istanbul

I always search for quotes and wisdom when I read.  I collected a wall of quotes I put up in my home, in Gaylord.  When I moved into my apartment in Ann Arbor, I started a new collection.  I add them to cork board, I recently stuck up on the wall.  But wisdom isn't wisdom unless it sinks in.  Past the thinking level.  To be a strong link, it has to be processed in real life. And the heart has to receive it.  

  

I went to the Upper Peninsula last week to visit my mom.  I couldn't wait to touch the cold water of Lake Huron, jump in and look between the rocks and old cribs for junk.  It all seemed like a warm blanket of home to me, not freezing, October water. 

I love to look out Mom's back window at the long, back yard, when I get home.  I grew up and played with my brothers and the neighborhood there. I helped weed the garden, hung the clothes on the line to dry, pulled nails out of old boards, learned how to ride a bike, and played with my dolls in that space.

I felt home sitting with Mom, in the evening, at the kitchen table. (Losing Scrabble to her by 100 points).  We walked down to the marina one day, to eat whitefish soup at a community gathering.  I got to visit with my cousins, Jim Ryerse, Jimmy Ahlich, Kathy (Cro-Jo) and friends.  I even saw my cousin Lonsie.  Mom and I sipped our warm cider, after we ate some whitefish soup and bread.   We laughed and shared stories about the past and present.   

On Friday, after "Bridge to Wellness" morning yoga, Mom and my sister, Kathy, and I, went to a  fundraiser at Forte de Buade Museum.  We sat, ate pea soup with hot, fry bread, and looked out the window at the amazing view of the big lake.  Keith Massaway gave a talk on the historical relation of the Canadian French fur traders to the local Native Americans.  

Two days ago, I went on a food tour in Detroit with a friend.  It was sponsored by the Arab American National Museum.  Sonya Kassis was our guide. 

Sonya Our Guide

She guided us through some of the smells, tastes, and textures I thought I'd left behind in Turkey.  Granted, it didn't have the setting I experienced while traveling. But, the food and the people made me feel at home. I witnessed a pride in the way food is grown, cut, cooked and served during this tour.  The Eastern Market has been in Detroit for 122 years.  I was there on a Tuesday, and was told Saturday's market has more than 40,000 people shopping.  The smells of spices, hand-made soaps, olives, fresh breads, vegetables and herbs had a feeling of home.  It reminded me of the Pazar Market Festival, in Kadiköy, Istanbul.

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Inside the Eastern Market in Detroit

The tour took us to a meat-butchering business called, Adam's Meats. Mr Rizk prides himself on having meat done "halal".
mideastfood.about.com

AHHHhhhhh, Fresh Cut Lamb!

Owner, Mr Rizk, Speaking to Us

We went to a little, family owned store. They had some things for us to taste on a small counter next to the crowded shelves of many items I didn't know existed.  I bought two kinds of feta, pickled rutabaga, grape leaves stuffed with spicy rice, and tabbouleh (or tabouli).  I loved to see the woman cutting the feta from a big slab she took out of a large container of liquid.

At Gabriel Import Company

Standing in Beautiful Doorway,
Downtown, Detroit

The more I take each day as a gift, the more I arrive home and the stronger my "Wisdom-Chain" becomes.  Accepting and keeping my eyes open is making me wiser.

As  St. Augustine of Hippo says, "People travel to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the star; and they pass by themselves without wondering."  (354-430 BC)

  

Taken at Germack Pistoshio Company
(They also roast coffee and have a coffee  cafe)