Begin in the Kitchen

I am not, by nature, a centered and calm person. My mind seems to either be racing a million miles a minute through a million different topics or overwhelmed with a tired trail of smoke drifting out of it, like a cartoon. Even as I sat here, at my kitchen table, I glanced outside and noticed the morning sun beckoning to me and thought I should stop typing and wander outside. A mere moment later I thought I should make another cup of coffee and then make my bed and then write a grocery list and then started thinking about work yesterday and then my dreams last night and the confrontation I had in my dream that represents unresolved conflict I have currently in my life. This is how my brain works and it can be exhausting. At 28 it has taken some hard work and serious growth over the last ten or so years to discipline my mind and attention span and learn to be patient with my heart (and other's hearts). Through many life experiences- some beautiful, some tragic, some mundane- I've learned to recognize when I need to take a moment and breathe, gain perspective, find my starting point for the next five minutes or five years. I've learned a few techniques for this but far and away the most constant, fail safe thing for me to do is to step into the kitchen and make something.

For me, everything begins in my kitchen. It is where I start my day with a cup of coffee, where I sit with friends when they visit, where I read the news and write in my journal and of course, where I nourish myself and others. It’s around my kitchen counter where I cook with my boyfriend several nights a week, chopping vegetables together, him tasting and tweaking the seasonings, catching up on our day while we offer each other tastes of soup and sauces. It’s where my favorite Aunt and I sat for hours, catching up on the major life events of the last several years and drinking a bottle or two of champagne. Around my kitchen counter is where my sisters know to sit while I cook paella for them, where we always have a cheese and charcuterie board out and I keep everyone’s wine glass full. My mother and I have spent countless hours together in the kitchen since I was a child, cooking for each other and our family and friends. The kitchen is the room where everyone gathers at parties, where people let their guards down, work together, feed each other, talk to each other. I’ve had many a long, lovely conversation there, a few difficult ones, and innumerable run of the mill but no less important “how was your day” exchanges. My kitchen is a creative, comfortable place. It centers me and speaks to me. It’s where I feed my body, mind, heart and soul. It’s where I begin.