We used to be very wheat sensitive, but are getting better now, and can handle a small amount of sprouted wheat berries, especially when they are mixed in with an abundance of other fresh ingredients, such as those in this easy tabouli recipe. Wheat berries that have been sprouted for 24 hours have a chewy, satisfying, and hearty texture which is quite different from fluffy cooked couscous, the traditional ingredient used in tabouli.

Ingredients (Serves 2):
1 cup fresh tomatoes, diced
1/4 - 1/3 cup wheat berries (after sprouting)
8 sundried tomatoes, soaked 1-3 hours, finely chopped
4 tablespoons parsley, minced
4 tablespoons walnuts, chopped
3-4 tablespoons green onions, or leeks, minced
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons sweet olive oil, or Spectrum walnut oil
1/4 teaspoon Himalayan salt
1/8 - 1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Directions:
Begin soaking wheat berries in the morning the day before you want to use them. Put in a mason jar with sprouting lid, and fill to the top with pure water.
In the evening, rinse again, and drain. Turn jar upside down, and sprout overnight.
Rinse in the morning and drain. At this same time, start soaking the sundried tomatoes. Wheat berries and tomatoes will both be perfect by lunch or dinner.
If you don't use the wheat berries that day, rinse before bed, and store in fridge. They will sprout a little bit more, but will still be good the next day. After that the flavor gets strong. (If you don't use them then, plant in some soil and grow into wheat grass!)
Add other ingredients and mix well. No dressing is necessary.

Our time in the kitchen is a wonderful collaboration and resonance with the food at hand. Rex and I are constantly shooting ideas back and forth, and many of The Healing Feast recipes spring forth this way.

When I'm in the kitchen, or in the garden looking at the veggies, there's an intuitive, creative exchange between myself and the food with the beauty of its colors, tastes, and textures. It all begins with my eyes: what do I see that gets my attention? This is a silent inner connection that comes with opening up to subtle vibrations, feelings, and nudges.


"Gladiolas" © Rosemary Delucco Alpert   A dear friend whom I've worked with collaboratively for years, is Rosemary DeLucco Alpert from Connecticut. She's a gifted photographer who studied with Ruth Bernard and Ansel Adams, and has evolved her own distinctive style with capturing the qualities of light and spirituality.

I've spent hours sitting with her photographs, writing poems to go with them. It's been a rewarding experience, and has brought us closer, and has deepened our friendship.

Here's a photo of hers, taken when Rex and I moved from Connecticut to California. The gladiolas were a gift she gave us when she came for a visit, and she photographed them as they sat on the dining room table. What amazed me about this photo, is the light that streams from the tips of the flowers, light that was not seen by our eyes, but was captured by the camera. Heres' a poem I wrote to go with Rose's image.

The Gift

In the room with liquid light
crystalline colors touch the air
and the greens and blues of summer
vibrate through the open window.

The warmth casts radiance
deeper into the room
where my heart shines into it.

The auras of our light
co-mingle the coloring air,
and in moments such as these,
God's breath is surely mine.