Historically, lard, butter, suet, and tallow had been widely used in domestic kitchens for cooking and baking. And these were what large food manufacturers had originally used, too, plus some palm and coconut oil. But then the industry switched over almost entirely to partially hydrogenated oils. And now that the trans fats in these oils were found to be a problem for health, food companies were left without options. They had no acceptable solid fat with which to make many of their products.
İnsan durup dururken sevmez. Anlık yıldırım çarpmaları birer etkidir, efekttir, sevgi değildir. Sevgi emekle birlikte zamana yayılır. Paylaştıkça çoğalır ve büyür.
Bazı hikâyeler tam tahmin ettiğin gibi ilerler. Bazılarıysa son sayfada tüm bildiklerini sorgulatır. 🤯
Ters köşeleri seviyorsan, seni sonuna kadar merakta bırakacak 3 kitap önerisini keşfetmeye hazır ol!
Hüzün seline kapılmak…Alıntı
“Do you think Mom felt capable of raising four children on her own? Holding her head up high when the whole world knew you’d left her, twice? Making all of the money, and doing all of the housework, and helping each of us with our homework? Making every single one of our birthdays special despite having no money and no time? Remembering that Jay likes chocolate cake with buttercream and Kit likes coconut cake and Hud likes yellow cake with chocolate frosting? Always having the perfect number of candles? Do you think I felt capable of taking it all over after she fucking drowned? Do you think I felt capable of trying to pay all the bills and still scraping up enough money for coconut at the fucking Malibu Mart? Do you think I felt capable of holding each one of these guys as they woke up in the middle of the night remembering that they had essentially been orphaned? Do you think I wanted to drop out of high school so I could do it all? That I wanted to be twenty-five years old without a high school diploma? I didn’t feel capable of any of that! But did that matter? Of course not. So I’ve gotten up every single day since Mom died—and even a lot of the days before that—and I have done what needed to be done. Capable is a question I never had the luxury of asking. Because my family needed me. And unlike you, I understand how important that is. You think I want to be here selling photos of my ass and living on this fucking cliff? No, I don’t. I want to be in Portugal somewhere living in a shack on the beach, riding waves and eating the catch of the day. But I don’t. I stay here. That’s what it means to be a family. Staying. Not just strolling into a party after midnight expecting a hug.”
Kederle aranıza mesafe koyamıyorsunuz. Keder dalgalar halinde geliyor, kriz gibi vuruyor, geldi mi dizlerinizin bağı çözülüyor, gözünüzü kör ediyor, gündelik yaşamı silip atıyor. Kederi yaşayan hemen herkes bu "dalgalar halinde gelme" olgusundan söz eder. 1940'larda Massachusetts Hastanesi'nde Psikiyatri Kliniği'nin başkanlığını yapan ve 1942'nin Coconut Grove yangınında yakınlarını kaybeden pek çok insanla görüşen Eric Lindemann, 1944 yılında yaptığı ünlü araştırmasında bu olguyu şöyle anlatır: "20 dakika ile bir saat arasında değişen bedensel acı dalgaları, gırtlakta düğümlenme hissi, nefessiz kalma, derin nefes alma ihtiyacı, karın bölgesinde boşluk hissi, kas gücünde yitim ve gerilim ya da zihinsel acı olarak tanımlanan yoğun hayali acı."
''I returned to London from Barbados to find that the city had stubbornly refused to change. I had seen azure skies and giant sea anemones, I had slept in a raffia bungalow and eaten a kingfish, I had swum beside baby turtles and read in the shade of coconut trees. But my hometown was unimpressed. It was still raining. The park was still a pond; the skies were still funereal. When we are in
a good mood and it is sunny we may be tempted to impute a connection between what happens inside and outside of us, but the appearance of London on my return was a reminder of the indifference of the world to any of the events unfolding in the lives of its habitants. I felt despair at being home. I felt there could be few worse places on earth than the one I had been fated to spend my existence in.
...There are some who have crossed deserts, floated on ice caps and cut their way through jungles but whose souls we would search in vain for evidence of what they have witnessed. Dressed in pink and-blue pyjamas, satisfied within the confines of his own bedroom, Xavier de Maistre was gently nudging us to try, before taking off for distant hemispheres, to notice what we have already seen.''
"What is meditation? What is leaving one's body? What is fasting? What is holding one's breath? It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. Then he won't feel his self any more, ther he won't feel the pains of life any more, then he finds a short numbing of the senses. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine, he'll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through
long exercises, staying in the non-self. This is how it is.
