Making Hummus

Week after week, the hummus was perfect. I had stumbled upon the perfect recipe after paying $5 for a tub of hummus at the local health food store. I could do better, I thought. And I did. That first batch had a little too much kick to it, so I gave it to my friend who could handle the heat. The second, too much garlic. Chris got that batch. After that, perfection.

Then one day, it failed. How could this happen? I had found the perfect recipe, tweaked it with my own blend of spices, and added the perfect amount of roasted red peppers. At first I thought it was the cheap garbanzo beans that I bought at Wal-mart. Could that account for the bland, almost bitter taste? I purchased the best tahini, though. Wouldn't that make up the lack? How, I thought, could this happen to me? I gave up. I couldn't even muster the energy to toss it when I took out the trash. I didn't want to come near it. It sat in there for weeks. Untouched, yet not ignored. Every time I opened the refrigerator I was confronted with my failure.

But, life goes on; eventually I cleaned out the fridge. I moved on, stared eating in restaurants, started buying common snacks from the vending machine. But everyday, I craved the subtle flavor of my Roasted Red Pepper Hummus.

A wise woman sat me down today and reminded me of my accomplishments over the past few months. "It's not everyone," she said, "who can look at themselves with total honesty, and have the commitment to do what you've done." She's right, you know. This journey is a bold one. And I will find the treasure box. It's my nature to do so. There will be no stopping me. "Remember," she said, "to stop and rest along the way."

Hmmm, that's a new concept, I thought. Rest; be gentle with myself; give myself a break? So, tonight I made hummus again. It was perfection!

I had forgotten the spices that time. Oh, silly me.

Phil Gruber

A few weeks ago, I spent the day with James Twyman. He's a filmmaker, whose most recent work is The Moses Code. James gave a concert on Friday night and an all day seminar on Saturday. One of the things about James is that he is the same up on the stage, as he is standing in line at Panera. I was prepared for what James was bringing to Moline. I had met him in February when he showed about 130 people an unfinished version of his film. He spent three hours with us that day.

After that, I spent about 6 weeks promoting a screening of the movie and participated in the worldwide peace meditation on Sunday using The Moses Code. Our intent was to manifest peace in Jerusalem.

The concept of The Moses Code is that there is a hidden code in the name of God as given to Moses: "I am that I am." That code is a comma. He is saying that it needs a comma in order for us to understand what God meant by telling Moses that his name was "I am that I am." What he meant, that may have gotten lost in translation, is "I am that, I am." This comma unlocks the code hidden in "I am that, I am", and by using it, we can manifest amazing things in our lives. It's a Law of Attraction thing, of course.

The real surprise of the weekend was Phil Gruber. Phil is an autoharp playing Kaballah scholar from New Jersey. As Phil interjected his wisdom at intervals on Saturday, I sat in awe. I've met a lot of smart guys before, but Phil has a way of taking the most complex concepts in religion and science and putting them into terms that bring a common understanding.

I mention Phil because he quoted the William Blake poem, London. He spoke about the "mind forg'd manacles" that limit us. If we can break free of the self-imposed limitations that bind us to lives of mediocrity, we are truly limitless. I look forward to seeing more of Phil; he has a lot to teach us all.

London-A Poem by William Blake

I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro' midnight streets
I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new born Infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.