On Christmas Eve, my mother and I went to her church for an evening service. As we made our way through the crowd and sat down at the end of a pew, I took a deep breath. It was the first time, in as long as I could remember, that I wasn't running somewhere or dealing with an outrageously long to-do list or worrying about a deadline. 2011 was a very good year to me and I wouldn't change a single thing about it if I could. Still, as I sat next to my Mom waiting for the service to begin, I made myself a silent promise that I'd try and slow down some in 2012, that I'd embrace the winter hibernation months, that I'd trade a few whirlwind moments for a few more quiet ones, letting the year calmly unfold before me.
I've mentioned already that 2012 and I aren't exactly seeing eye to eye on some big issues. Two things very close to my heart are unfolding in emotionally taxing ways and it's been a lot for me to digest, to wrap my brain around, to find any sort of silver lining.
So I am doing the only thing I know to do right now - aside from curling up into a fetal position on my bedroom floor - and that's to take it all one day at a time. In my yoga class on Monday night, my teacher, stressing that a pose was about opening up our chests, our hearts, said "may we all live in our hearts this year."
It's been a tough two weeks for me, but I am trying to focus on the small comforts, the coziness of my home, finding strength in the solace of dark, still nights and the quiet moments.
I am not much of a cook, never really have been. It both surprises me and strikes me as odd as this is where I've been turning for relief these past few days, that my kitchen has become my stabilizing ground, the place where I feel most at ease right now.
Perhaps it's in the recipes. There are so many things I can't control, so many events that are unfolding as they will no matter what I do or say, that a recipe - with all of its measurements and directions and temperatures becomes the one thing I can measure, that I can control.
There is a reason people tend to gather in kitchens, why they call it comfort food. For I find my little kitchen and the meals it can turn out can give me strength, and nourishes my soul when I am feeling lost, tired, hurt or confused. Sometimes I think we're all in need of a good bowl of hot soup, to warm us from the inside out.
I've mentioned already that 2012 and I aren't exactly seeing eye to eye on some big issues. Two things very close to my heart are unfolding in emotionally taxing ways and it's been a lot for me to digest, to wrap my brain around, to find any sort of silver lining.
So I am doing the only thing I know to do right now - aside from curling up into a fetal position on my bedroom floor - and that's to take it all one day at a time. In my yoga class on Monday night, my teacher, stressing that a pose was about opening up our chests, our hearts, said "may we all live in our hearts this year."
It's been a tough two weeks for me, but I am trying to focus on the small comforts, the coziness of my home, finding strength in the solace of dark, still nights and the quiet moments.
I am not much of a cook, never really have been. It both surprises me and strikes me as odd as this is where I've been turning for relief these past few days, that my kitchen has become my stabilizing ground, the place where I feel most at ease right now.
Perhaps it's in the recipes. There are so many things I can't control, so many events that are unfolding as they will no matter what I do or say, that a recipe - with all of its measurements and directions and temperatures becomes the one thing I can measure, that I can control.
There is a reason people tend to gather in kitchens, why they call it comfort food. For I find my little kitchen and the meals it can turn out can give me strength, and nourishes my soul when I am feeling lost, tired, hurt or confused. Sometimes I think we're all in need of a good bowl of hot soup, to warm us from the inside out.
5 comments:
I'm not sure what's up, but I hope it works it's way to some kind of peaceful resolution soon.
That being said, Italian Wedding soup is one of my all-time favorites and calms me right away.
xox
The kitchen is such a warm place. I love your writing. Your kitchen looks very inviting and the soup looks awesome. I'm working on organizing my kitchen and making it feel more warm. It's a good time of year for that. Hang in there.
Yes, you ARE a good cook. You've always enjoyed baking, etc. Glad to see you are still exploring the possibilities in the kitchen. I agree that the kitchen is a cozy place to spend time and I've loved your kitchen since I changed the color from pink/orange to blue for you! It's such an inviting space with its big window overlooking the neighbor's garden. Nothing like a warm bowl of soup on a cold winter day or a hearty beef stew. I see all those kitchen items in your pictures that I've gifted to you over the years being put to good use. Stay warm, keep your heart open to new people and new experiences and 2012 could become one of the best years. Lots of days ahead, baby girl. Don't give up on ole 2012 just yet.
Sorry to hear that 2012 hasn't been stellar just yet--mine hasn't been either, but we're only two weeks in, and I think the only way it can go is up!
That said, I love your kitchen! It looks really cozy from the pictures, and I LOVE the string of white lights. And now I'm just really hungry.
I’ve been immersing myself for what seems like the 100th time in the book Julie and Julia this week (maybe it’s the possibility of the Paris trip in my future? Or just a need for one last favorite fun book before class starts?) but this quote has been on my mind this week and after catching up on your blog posts, it popped into my head again just now:
You know what I love about cooking? I love that after a day when nothing is sure, and when I say "nothing" I mean nothing, you can come home and absolutely know that if you add egg yolks to chocolate and sugar and milk, it will get thick. It's such a comfort.
It’s in the movie I think, not the book, but I really love that line, and I thought you would too
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