Behind the Surface

The story was simple: Measure 110, the Oregon ballot measure which passed in 2020 decriminalizing drug possession, was a failure. It was the reason you couldn't go to the park without having to scan the playground for used needles while junkies shot up on a bench and others were already passed out. It was the reason there were so many more tents, often with some skinny guy hovering around a mountain of bicycle parts (almost certainly stolen). It was the reason there were so many more people dying of fentanyl overdoses and straining emergency response services. It was the reason so many more people were getting shot and sometimes killed, even in swanky areas like the NW Alphabet District. It was the reason downtown Portland was such a shit hole. The defunct Greyhound bus terminal next to the still busy Amtrak station even stank of literal shit (and still does).  Right-wing media jumped on the chance to flog its favorite whipping boys of Portland and decriminalization. Soon columnist...

All my talk about mysticism and writing at the end of January had me groping for my dormant liturgical traditions to see if their structures and rhythms might inform my approach to writing as spiritual practice. And since Lent was nigh, I figured I might as well start by taking a stab at observing it for the first time in many years. And since much of the mysticism of the Western Church began in the East—indeed it was the emphasis on mystery that drew me to the Byzantine tradition—I figured I might as well start by attending Divine Liturgy. Or watching it, rather. But I’m in good company. According to St. John Chrysostom, the angels, too, are mere spectators at the “celestial theater” of the Church.   *** In 1999 I became a catechumen in the Orthodox Church, a sort of student studying to convert. It meant leaving evangelicalism and a lifetime of distinguishing myself as the AWANA champion, Miss Conservative Baptist of Oregon 1986-87, and Jesus Nerd par excellence, teaching Sunday...

It was going to be the Easter dish of my greatest Instagram fantasies.   I was going to use Heather Ardnt Anderson’s lamb shank and farro recipe except I was going to give it more of a Levantine twist. I would replace the farro with freekeh , a smoked, unripe rubbed/cracked wheat popular in the Levant, North Africa, and Turkiye. And since I love chickpeas, I’d add those too, making it reminiscent of qidreh , the Palestinian lamb shank dish I’ve made for the last two Easters. Since the assortment of spices called for in the recipe was already part way there, I would swap them out for advieh e-polo (Persian rice seasoning—fresh ground myself). Plus I still had a cup or two of leftover frozen lamb stock to which I had originally added too much mastic (along with baharat, the levantine spice mixture). Adding frozen vegetable stock to meet the four cups called for in the recipe would dilute that lamb stock a bit but still give a hint of something otherworldly. The whole thing would be...