I’m a believer in things that are special. A home sparsely full of carefully chosen, delicately important belongings will always win my heart over a house overflowing with a casual abundance of items. I think tea is more soothing when sipped from a hand thrown mug with grit still in the clay and that meals taste better from a gracefully arranged plate. I don’t need things to be expensive or designer or trendy. I just want my things to be purposeful. Chosen with intent. Crafted for the moment. Life is sweeter when we honor each instant that we can, mindfully soaking up the feeling of a soft blanket, the smell of the forest, shoes that cradle our feet just so.
I especially covet this ritual of special-ness with food. Because food is special. It comforts, celebrates, nourishes, and sustains. I like to think it carries the energetic fingerprints of all the lives intermingled in its production - from the planting of seeds and tending of weeds to the harvesting and washing. Our food quietly carries the stories of so many lives, silently weaving together the threads of humanity. We don’t usually see or hear those stories, but we can acknowledge their existence by paying tribute to the fact that food in our kitchen is proof of love and loss and all that runs in between. Layered upon the humanity it carries, food also brings with it the reminder of our tender earth: the soothing reappearance of the sun each morning, the relevance of every droplet of water. If we listen carefully, our food is patiently waiting to remind us that we are not only alive but deeply connected to one another, and that this earth we inhabit is swarming with magic.
This understanding of food has the power to change how we nourish ourselves. We don’t need our food to be extravagant in order to be mindfully nourished by it. By taking care, thoughtfully measuring and folding in intention, and being mercilessly present, we can perhaps slow down enough to touch and feel and see and hear and taste all that our food carries with it.
Developing a relationship with food that honors it fully is an individual and celebratory journey. Along this path we are able to discover our own artistry and creativity, a style and methodology that is uniquely individual. There is no recipe for this, and that makes it at once more accessible and more elusive. We must believe, at least to a tiny extent, in our own ability to capture magic in our hands.