Aromatic Joy
by Linda Anderson Krech
During these deeply disturbing times, it is easy to feel depleted by the stories of desperation and the images of destruction that we are exposed to, and by the waves of crisis that rise and fall, taking a toll on our focus, strength and wellbeing.
How do we maintain our balance, for our own sake and for the sake of those who are counting on us? How do we become part of the solution if we are flattened by the weight of the challenges?
Often we find comfort in being together with our special ones or those with whom we share a strong interest or perspective. We may be energized by a sense of camaraderie and feel strengthened through mutual support. That may be the case this Saturday as many of us join together to make a clear and public statement of resistance to the current state of affairs.
But during the ordinary course of our days, how can we provide some counterbalance to the tension? Of course it goes without saying that we need to take responsibility for monitoring our news consumption. That’s up to each of us to figure out. The same also holds true for finding our own personal approach to relaxation. Whether you unwind with a guitar, a camera, a paintbrush or your walking shoes, your nervous system benefits, and the greater the immersion, the greater the benefit.
I’ve noticed lately that the kitchen has become a special sensory playground for me, offering a temporary respite from the woes of the world. When I am intensely present to what I am doing, and what the food is doing in response, I can become happily lost in the richness of it all.
The initial burst of aromas are almost intoxicating, and as I listen to the gentle simmer of the onions and watch them shimmy in the pan, I am filled with such a deep and simple joy. With my face right over the pan, I feel an intimate connection with the food that will soon enough become part of who I am.
When I experience that first burst of aromatic joy, I am still very often transported to the kitchen of my very first apartment, upstairs from the Valderama family, near the Staten Island Ferry . I have a vivid memory of the first time I ever cooked food on that little stove. It was magical and I was filled with joy.
The making of that food, in all of its sensory glory and symbolic meaning, represented the start of my own independent life. I had crossed the threshold and stepped into a world of freedom. I received a burst of strength and hope from that experience, and I am having a similar experience in the kitchen these days.
Cooking with presence can provide us with joy, relief, nourishment and contentment. It can lift our spirits, calm our worries and boost our sense of wellbeing and then, after the joy of cooking, there’s the joy of eating. I encourage you to make time for your relaxing activity, whatever that is for you. As for me, I’m hungry having described all of this to you. Time for a little culinary break. Bon Appetit to me and to you as well!
