The little rituals that make my days flow and help me to get through the tougher times seem to often revolve around food. I am a chef, so it makes sense that I view a lot of the world though the cuisine filter, but it isn’t necessarily the wonderful meals out or the epic cooking sessions for friends that make my world go round. I love a glass of red wine in the evening while I am making dinner or reading. A cold afternoon feels cozy with a crochet hook and a cup of Earl Grey tea. Make it Cream of Earl Grey and I will have a second cup! Going for a walk by myself and having a little cocktail or wine and tapas and people watching is one of my favourite things to do when I need a good think.
All of these little moments make my days extra special, but if there is one thing I simply can’t do without, it is my morning coffee. Generally that is plural, but it is the first coffee that feels like a special ritual to me. The promise of that coffee is what gets me out of bed on tough days and I have even made myself go to bed by reminding myself that I will wake up to that special cup.
I can’t get to the page without it. I love to sit and write before I see or talk to anyone. Other than my cat’s morning food and meds nothing comes before my coffee. When I go to stay at a tea drinking friend’s place I bring my own because they don’t just understand coffee the way I do and chances are the same stale bag I bought during my visit last year is still waiting in the back of their freezer for me. Chances are they got rid of the makeshift sock bag and they don’t have any way to make it.
Now I can get creative in a pinch when there is no proper way to make coffee, but I have learned my lesson and I am likely to carry my mini mocha pot and enough fresh ground to get me through my visit. I love my cappuccino for my first coffee, but I can get by without the milk as long as that beautiful, bitter black brew can be obtained promptly upon waking.
Roseanna, what you write here, totally me, too! "The promise of that coffee is what gets me out of bed on tough days and I have even made myself go to bed by reminding myself that I will wake up to that special cup. I can’t get to the page without it. I love to sit and write before I see or talk to anyone."
I have a very particular morning latte--I put honey in my mug and brew espresso over it, and then I froth a combo of milk and cream with cinnamon. I look forward to it every day...
Lately my lessons have been teaching high schoolers how to talk and write about daily routines in Spanish. They have to identify what comes first or last in a morning routine before leaving for school. “Do you eat breakfast before or after brushing your teeth?”, for example. But to focus on my own behaviors is harder. My inquisitive and always-hungry lab knows my movements better than I do. So I ponder it a moment, in between putting on knee highs and remembering to take my meds. The two things I do as self-care, without realizing, has been to stretch and to look at the beautiful things in my home.
Stretching-
I do this for connection to my body, given that it seems to slow me down from what my mind has planned each day. The stretches not only feel good but sort of reassemble my parts as though I were a wooden figure held together by rubber bands. (Do you know which ones I’m referring to? They’re old-fashioned.) There’s my hand, my toe, the nape of my neck, my jaw, my pelvis and lower back… and my knees.
Looking at beauty-
As I scurry to prepare lunch while boiling water for tea, I look at the sculpted birds on my window sill. One is painted in iridescent colors while the other is sky blue glass. As I pack my teacher bag, I see the painting of a woman looking off into the distance with calm. As I open the blinds for my dear plants, I notice the fabric wall hanging of koi fish making ripples in a pond. Then there are the graduation photos of our three, grown kids, a piece of fossilized coral and ceramic dishes hanging on the kitchen wall, which once graced that of my grandmother’s kitchen. So much love reflected back to me: from family, from nature, from art.
Finally, I set my tea to brew and place the leash on Marisol to take her next door to keep my mother company while I’m away at work.
This transported me, Hilary--I love your descriptions of what you observed when making tea, and I could absolutely relate to the rubberband body. 😉 I am trying to stretch and do some very gentle yoga every morning. It's amazing what happens when we actually pay attention to our bodies...
Music is my go-to when my anxieties start bubbling up. I will notice how quiet it is in my house, and the quiet makes space for the random concerns to get louder. All the things I "need" to do. The bills that are coming due. The tensions I feel in my extended family, and the complete dysfunction of the political world today.
When I turn on music, I am transported to a place of comfort, a place of fun. It is as though the music becomes part of me, at a cellular level, and my entire mood changes. I am swaying, my feet are dancing, I am singing and the anxieties I was feeling begin to wash away with the rhythms of sound.
Sometimes, music compels me to dance. The the happiness of the movement is the elixir.
Sometimes, I will lower the lights, sit on my couch wrapped in a warm blanket and let the music wash over me. It becomes my second blanket.
Early rock and roll, soft jazz, modern country music, classical music, they all have their place when I need to be soothed. I just let the mood lead me to the right selection.
Music always lifts my spirits and leads to dance as well, and yet I often forget and tend to stay in silence. Your post will hopefully lead me to turn to music more often, because it really does soothe!
Wendy this is so timely for me. I commented to my husband that I miss when we used to have music playing so often in our home in Canada. We kind of forgot about it in Costa Rica, we didn't have the equipment we used to have. And now we are back to square 1 with possessions but I think after reading your post I will make quality speakers a priority. Love music and dancing. I'm in Lisbon right now to go to a jazz club a friend recommended. Thanks for the reminder!
I've noticed that during a stressful season of life, I rely on heavily curated playlists to comfort and soothe me...I'm also a music therapist, so the impact of music on our mood is something that really resonates with me!
In the summer, I am soothed by the lake at our cottage. When I taught online classes, the students benefitted by my improved mood. I’d sit at the windows in the open family room, or the screened-in room outside, gazing out through the trees at the lake. The view made grading papers and weekly posts endurable. In the last couple years with the rise in student use of Chat-GPT, grading became more of a chore. I felt like a human plagiarism detector, hating how learning had become nothing more than writing a prompt into AI software and copying the answer. When I could feel the anger rising in my chest and out my mouth in torrents of profanity, I knew it was time to stop looking at the lake and get out on it. I’d close my computer, change into my bathing suit, slather on sunscreen and head out on the paddleboard. After just a few dips of the paddle, I’m at ease again, mesmerized by the shimmering waves, watching blue jays flying from branch to branch near the shoreline or loons disappearing underwater, waiting to see where they’d pop back up. I’d paddle hard until coming upon the next marvel of nature when I’d stand still and just notice. Because that’s what I do now that I’m a writer, I pay attention and notice. I’ve become good at paying attention to the natural world of trees, birds, land animals and water creatures. Now I need to learn to pay attention to the human world. But it is the lake that soothes.
This is lovely, Tracey. For me, it is paddling on the Intracoastal Waterway of Florida, the white egrets perched on the tops of the mangroves as I glide by. Those kayak rides have saved me so many times, connected me back to myself when I needed soothing.
Tracey, I found myself letting out a big sigh when I read your post. I love living with a view of water. Living in Costa Rica I was a short walk to the Caribbean Sea, but my pool was my saving grace. I would swim every morning and when I could find time to read/write it was beside the pool.
Have you heard of marine biologist and conservationist Wallace J. Nichols? He wrote a book called "Blue Mind," where he describes how being near/viewing water creates a "mildly meditative state" that "takes advantage of the neurological connections formed over millennia". This phenomenon is now being studied by technology like EEG and fMRI. You discovered it all on your own.
This time we're staying near La Fortuna most of the time (Not the bigger one near Arenal, the other one near Volcan Miravalles), and then a couple days in Nosara. We've been to Monteverde and Arenal a couple times and also love Manuel Antonio. I also did a cacao tour one year when I was running a chocolate tasting business! I love it there!
I was on the Caribbean coast, at the edge of the jungle a few minutes walk from one of the most beautiful and secluded beaches I've ever seen, Playa Chiquita. (The tagline for my rental property there is "Where the Jungle kisses the Caribbean Sea") Be careful out there this year, there has been massive rain and flooding in the Pacific and the Central Valley.
We stayed on the Caribbean coast during our first trip there 26 years ago! It felt so different from the rest of the country. That was a great trip! Thanks for the warning about the flooding. I can see Costa Rica floods marked on the map. Will ask my brother-in-law how it affects travel from Liberia to the coast (he lives in Nosara in the winter).
Oooh, this... "Because that’s what I do now that I’m a writer, I pay attention and notice." You brought the experience of being on the lake to life so beautifully.
Climate change has made winter’s arrival where I live in Connecticut a total mystery. In mid-October I shook out my fall clothes and stuffed my summer clothes into plastic bins. Despite my preparedness, the days refused to cool. Suede boots felt ridiculous when the outdoor swimming pool in my building should still be open. (I don’t actually own suede boots, but I saw a lot of women sweating in them this fall)
It was 81 degrees, EIGHTY-ONE DEGREES, on Halloween, and all I could think of was how I fought with my ten-year-old daughter to wear a coat trick-or-treating. It was cold and rainy in 2006. My mother had made her a Brittany Spears costume from a Butterick pattern they found together in a fabric store—a shimmery purple halter top and satin pants. The coat simply ruined her “look.” We finally agreed on a white t-shirt under the halter top. Even after eighteen years have passed, she still reminds me every Halloween how “stupid” it looked. She could have worn a bikini for trick-or-treating this year.
The average temperature in November was high 60’s and 70’s. Although I was confused, the trees were not. The beech, dogwood, and oak trees shook off their fall dresses. The maple trees hung on to theirs a bit longer, like the person who stays too late at the party, but they finally undressed.
Freezing temperatures arrived overnight, right before Thanksgiving. Despite my fall apparel missing their season, I was elated.
We are 18 days away from the winter solstice. The colder and darker it gets, the more books I will read, the more pages I will write. Daylight will become more precious as will fireplaces and cozy blankets. Hot flashes will become bearable. The gray cat I rescued during the pandemic will still refuse to curl up on my lap but will sit next to me and allow herself to be hypnotized by my knitting needles. Every night, before I close the blinds on my kitchen window ten stories above Commons Park, I will pause and take in the trees adorned in festive white lights. Christmas is coming.
I am reading Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, too, for the first time. It's so lovely. While I live in Florida, I am experiencing the "wintering" that is more a state of mind, the spiritual time of reckoning that May describes. As for what soothes me, it's climbing back into bed in the mornings under my duvet with a hot cup of coffee to read something inspiring, often Mark Nepo's Book of Awakening, or Mary Oliver's poetry, to journal and listen to beautiful calm instrumental music. Then to stretch, do some yoga and get a little sun on my face on my balcony or a short walk around the lake. With that bit of soothing, my date glides much better even when I feel that tinge of wintering in my soul.
I feel soothed when I’m doing something hard or boring and then suddenly the thought strikes… Noodles! I could make noodles! Spicy, saucy noodles.
I did it today. At 10:30 this morning when I was supposed to be working, I was grating ginger and garlic into ground pork and mixing in rice vinegar and soy sauce, and I just felt… good. Capable. Real. In control. Like I had roots and purpose. A little bit fancy.
Creating lovely food can bring me back to life so quickly. Even just the thought of it. I was standing in line at the grocery store tonight, tired and impatient, and I saw a little display of packages of overnight chia in fancy flavours. And there was that little zing in my brain. Ooh, I could make that! Wouldn’t that be nice?
Understand that this feeling has nothing to do with making actual meals at times my family needs to eat meals. It’s entirely a reaction to grumpy, boring circumstances. It’s a search for something that will make me feel better. And sometimes that thing is roasted chickpeas on my salad.
I love noodles too! And cooking, random things at random times, much to the chagrin off my overly, orderly boring food husband who could eat the same meal (soup and sandwich) for months. I could smell the ginger and garlic in your post!
It's interesting the rituals and methods I have used to soothe myself have both stayed the same and changed over time. These days, when I am feeling out of sorts, or have a lot of feelings to process, or have a situation I want to think about, I take a walk. A long, meandering walk. No music. No books. No podcasts. Maybe a dog. I look at the ground, my feet, the sidewalk, the trees, the sky, the houses, peoples gardens. It's almost like a meditation - I find my mind wandering. I just walk, and think, and don't force it too much, but what ends up happening feels something like marbles rolling around in my head. All of the things I need to process or think about get turned over and examined in my mind, and my other thoughts come in and then the next thought gets examined. Honestly, it's magical. By the end of my walk, maybe it's not all resolved, but I usually have a better handle on how I feel and what I would like to do, and how to frame things in my mind to make sense. Maybe I haven't done this my whole life, but man, I should have. I do think that I always found a way to get to this meditative place in my head, sometimes by hard exercise, sometimes by rocking, sometimes by doing a craft project. But walking has helped me the most, it is the most sustainable. Also, the dogs love it too.
The little rituals that make my days flow and help me to get through the tougher times seem to often revolve around food. I am a chef, so it makes sense that I view a lot of the world though the cuisine filter, but it isn’t necessarily the wonderful meals out or the epic cooking sessions for friends that make my world go round. I love a glass of red wine in the evening while I am making dinner or reading. A cold afternoon feels cozy with a crochet hook and a cup of Earl Grey tea. Make it Cream of Earl Grey and I will have a second cup! Going for a walk by myself and having a little cocktail or wine and tapas and people watching is one of my favourite things to do when I need a good think.
All of these little moments make my days extra special, but if there is one thing I simply can’t do without, it is my morning coffee. Generally that is plural, but it is the first coffee that feels like a special ritual to me. The promise of that coffee is what gets me out of bed on tough days and I have even made myself go to bed by reminding myself that I will wake up to that special cup.
I can’t get to the page without it. I love to sit and write before I see or talk to anyone. Other than my cat’s morning food and meds nothing comes before my coffee. When I go to stay at a tea drinking friend’s place I bring my own because they don’t just understand coffee the way I do and chances are the same stale bag I bought during my visit last year is still waiting in the back of their freezer for me. Chances are they got rid of the makeshift sock bag and they don’t have any way to make it.
Now I can get creative in a pinch when there is no proper way to make coffee, but I have learned my lesson and I am likely to carry my mini mocha pot and enough fresh ground to get me through my visit. I love my cappuccino for my first coffee, but I can get by without the milk as long as that beautiful, bitter black brew can be obtained promptly upon waking.
What's your morning cuppa?
Totally get the morning coffee. That is a ritual I cherish as well.
Roseanna, what you write here, totally me, too! "The promise of that coffee is what gets me out of bed on tough days and I have even made myself go to bed by reminding myself that I will wake up to that special cup. I can’t get to the page without it. I love to sit and write before I see or talk to anyone."
Me three!
I have a very particular morning latte--I put honey in my mug and brew espresso over it, and then I froth a combo of milk and cream with cinnamon. I look forward to it every day...
Lately my lessons have been teaching high schoolers how to talk and write about daily routines in Spanish. They have to identify what comes first or last in a morning routine before leaving for school. “Do you eat breakfast before or after brushing your teeth?”, for example. But to focus on my own behaviors is harder. My inquisitive and always-hungry lab knows my movements better than I do. So I ponder it a moment, in between putting on knee highs and remembering to take my meds. The two things I do as self-care, without realizing, has been to stretch and to look at the beautiful things in my home.
Stretching-
I do this for connection to my body, given that it seems to slow me down from what my mind has planned each day. The stretches not only feel good but sort of reassemble my parts as though I were a wooden figure held together by rubber bands. (Do you know which ones I’m referring to? They’re old-fashioned.) There’s my hand, my toe, the nape of my neck, my jaw, my pelvis and lower back… and my knees.
Looking at beauty-
As I scurry to prepare lunch while boiling water for tea, I look at the sculpted birds on my window sill. One is painted in iridescent colors while the other is sky blue glass. As I pack my teacher bag, I see the painting of a woman looking off into the distance with calm. As I open the blinds for my dear plants, I notice the fabric wall hanging of koi fish making ripples in a pond. Then there are the graduation photos of our three, grown kids, a piece of fossilized coral and ceramic dishes hanging on the kitchen wall, which once graced that of my grandmother’s kitchen. So much love reflected back to me: from family, from nature, from art.
Finally, I set my tea to brew and place the leash on Marisol to take her next door to keep my mother company while I’m away at work.
Daily morning stretching/yoga/exercise is a must for me as well. I love how noticing the beauty of your surroundings reflects love and soothes.
Hi Tracey, fun to see you here! We have a similar morning ritual.
Absolutely with you on the stretching. Yoga saved me.
This transported me, Hilary--I love your descriptions of what you observed when making tea, and I could absolutely relate to the rubberband body. 😉 I am trying to stretch and do some very gentle yoga every morning. It's amazing what happens when we actually pay attention to our bodies...
Music is my go-to when my anxieties start bubbling up. I will notice how quiet it is in my house, and the quiet makes space for the random concerns to get louder. All the things I "need" to do. The bills that are coming due. The tensions I feel in my extended family, and the complete dysfunction of the political world today.
When I turn on music, I am transported to a place of comfort, a place of fun. It is as though the music becomes part of me, at a cellular level, and my entire mood changes. I am swaying, my feet are dancing, I am singing and the anxieties I was feeling begin to wash away with the rhythms of sound.
Sometimes, music compels me to dance. The the happiness of the movement is the elixir.
Sometimes, I will lower the lights, sit on my couch wrapped in a warm blanket and let the music wash over me. It becomes my second blanket.
Early rock and roll, soft jazz, modern country music, classical music, they all have their place when I need to be soothed. I just let the mood lead me to the right selection.
Music always lifts my spirits and leads to dance as well, and yet I often forget and tend to stay in silence. Your post will hopefully lead me to turn to music more often, because it really does soothe!
Tracey, too often I forget to turn the music on also. Then I find my energy level dropping and remind myself, "oh yes, turn on some music,"
Wendy this is so timely for me. I commented to my husband that I miss when we used to have music playing so often in our home in Canada. We kind of forgot about it in Costa Rica, we didn't have the equipment we used to have. And now we are back to square 1 with possessions but I think after reading your post I will make quality speakers a priority. Love music and dancing. I'm in Lisbon right now to go to a jazz club a friend recommended. Thanks for the reminder!
Roseanna, from Canada to Costa Rica to Lisbon, WOW. That sounds exciting.
I hope the jazz club lived up to its recommendation and you find your speakers and music. Thanks for your comment.
I've noticed that during a stressful season of life, I rely on heavily curated playlists to comfort and soothe me...I'm also a music therapist, so the impact of music on our mood is something that really resonates with me!
A music therapist,. that must be so interesting.
In the summer, I am soothed by the lake at our cottage. When I taught online classes, the students benefitted by my improved mood. I’d sit at the windows in the open family room, or the screened-in room outside, gazing out through the trees at the lake. The view made grading papers and weekly posts endurable. In the last couple years with the rise in student use of Chat-GPT, grading became more of a chore. I felt like a human plagiarism detector, hating how learning had become nothing more than writing a prompt into AI software and copying the answer. When I could feel the anger rising in my chest and out my mouth in torrents of profanity, I knew it was time to stop looking at the lake and get out on it. I’d close my computer, change into my bathing suit, slather on sunscreen and head out on the paddleboard. After just a few dips of the paddle, I’m at ease again, mesmerized by the shimmering waves, watching blue jays flying from branch to branch near the shoreline or loons disappearing underwater, waiting to see where they’d pop back up. I’d paddle hard until coming upon the next marvel of nature when I’d stand still and just notice. Because that’s what I do now that I’m a writer, I pay attention and notice. I’ve become good at paying attention to the natural world of trees, birds, land animals and water creatures. Now I need to learn to pay attention to the human world. But it is the lake that soothes.
This is lovely, Tracey. For me, it is paddling on the Intracoastal Waterway of Florida, the white egrets perched on the tops of the mangroves as I glide by. Those kayak rides have saved me so many times, connected me back to myself when I needed soothing.
Beautiful! It’s a wonderful way to disconnect from chaos and reconnect with nature and self!
Tracey, I found myself letting out a big sigh when I read your post. I love living with a view of water. Living in Costa Rica I was a short walk to the Caribbean Sea, but my pool was my saving grace. I would swim every morning and when I could find time to read/write it was beside the pool.
Have you heard of marine biologist and conservationist Wallace J. Nichols? He wrote a book called "Blue Mind," where he describes how being near/viewing water creates a "mildly meditative state" that "takes advantage of the neurological connections formed over millennia". This phenomenon is now being studied by technology like EEG and fMRI. You discovered it all on your own.
Yes, I relate to that mildly meditative state Nichols' writes of, thanks for letting me know about the book!
I love Costa Rica – heading back in a few weeks and can't wait!
Where do you go in CR?
This time we're staying near La Fortuna most of the time (Not the bigger one near Arenal, the other one near Volcan Miravalles), and then a couple days in Nosara. We've been to Monteverde and Arenal a couple times and also love Manuel Antonio. I also did a cacao tour one year when I was running a chocolate tasting business! I love it there!
Where did you live in CR?
I was on the Caribbean coast, at the edge of the jungle a few minutes walk from one of the most beautiful and secluded beaches I've ever seen, Playa Chiquita. (The tagline for my rental property there is "Where the Jungle kisses the Caribbean Sea") Be careful out there this year, there has been massive rain and flooding in the Pacific and the Central Valley.
We stayed on the Caribbean coast during our first trip there 26 years ago! It felt so different from the rest of the country. That was a great trip! Thanks for the warning about the flooding. I can see Costa Rica floods marked on the map. Will ask my brother-in-law how it affects travel from Liberia to the coast (he lives in Nosara in the winter).
Oooh, this... "Because that’s what I do now that I’m a writer, I pay attention and notice." You brought the experience of being on the lake to life so beautifully.
This was such a peaceful, beautiful read. I love the emphasis on paying attention and noticing. It's such a simple yet powerful practice.
I love the image of paddling on the lake with blue jays and loons!!!
Me too!
Climate change has made winter’s arrival where I live in Connecticut a total mystery. In mid-October I shook out my fall clothes and stuffed my summer clothes into plastic bins. Despite my preparedness, the days refused to cool. Suede boots felt ridiculous when the outdoor swimming pool in my building should still be open. (I don’t actually own suede boots, but I saw a lot of women sweating in them this fall)
It was 81 degrees, EIGHTY-ONE DEGREES, on Halloween, and all I could think of was how I fought with my ten-year-old daughter to wear a coat trick-or-treating. It was cold and rainy in 2006. My mother had made her a Brittany Spears costume from a Butterick pattern they found together in a fabric store—a shimmery purple halter top and satin pants. The coat simply ruined her “look.” We finally agreed on a white t-shirt under the halter top. Even after eighteen years have passed, she still reminds me every Halloween how “stupid” it looked. She could have worn a bikini for trick-or-treating this year.
The average temperature in November was high 60’s and 70’s. Although I was confused, the trees were not. The beech, dogwood, and oak trees shook off their fall dresses. The maple trees hung on to theirs a bit longer, like the person who stays too late at the party, but they finally undressed.
Freezing temperatures arrived overnight, right before Thanksgiving. Despite my fall apparel missing their season, I was elated.
We are 18 days away from the winter solstice. The colder and darker it gets, the more books I will read, the more pages I will write. Daylight will become more precious as will fireplaces and cozy blankets. Hot flashes will become bearable. The gray cat I rescued during the pandemic will still refuse to curl up on my lap but will sit next to me and allow herself to be hypnotized by my knitting needles. Every night, before I close the blinds on my kitchen window ten stories above Commons Park, I will pause and take in the trees adorned in festive white lights. Christmas is coming.
This is just lovely. I feel this about how climate change has impacted our transition into winter.
I laughed out loud at this - "I don’t actually own suede boots, but I saw a lot of women sweating in them this fall."
Me tooooo!
I am reading Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, too, for the first time. It's so lovely. While I live in Florida, I am experiencing the "wintering" that is more a state of mind, the spiritual time of reckoning that May describes. As for what soothes me, it's climbing back into bed in the mornings under my duvet with a hot cup of coffee to read something inspiring, often Mark Nepo's Book of Awakening, or Mary Oliver's poetry, to journal and listen to beautiful calm instrumental music. Then to stretch, do some yoga and get a little sun on my face on my balcony or a short walk around the lake. With that bit of soothing, my date glides much better even when I feel that tinge of wintering in my soul.
I am going to check out that book, Wintering. Thanks.
Oh, I love the idea of someone living in Florida and reading Wintering!
This was such a delicious, evocative read. I felt myself relaxing as I read it, and I love the idea of wintering as more of a mindset.
The short answer is noodles.
I feel soothed when I’m doing something hard or boring and then suddenly the thought strikes… Noodles! I could make noodles! Spicy, saucy noodles.
I did it today. At 10:30 this morning when I was supposed to be working, I was grating ginger and garlic into ground pork and mixing in rice vinegar and soy sauce, and I just felt… good. Capable. Real. In control. Like I had roots and purpose. A little bit fancy.
Creating lovely food can bring me back to life so quickly. Even just the thought of it. I was standing in line at the grocery store tonight, tired and impatient, and I saw a little display of packages of overnight chia in fancy flavours. And there was that little zing in my brain. Ooh, I could make that! Wouldn’t that be nice?
Understand that this feeling has nothing to do with making actual meals at times my family needs to eat meals. It’s entirely a reaction to grumpy, boring circumstances. It’s a search for something that will make me feel better. And sometimes that thing is roasted chickpeas on my salad.
I love noodles too! And cooking, random things at random times, much to the chagrin off my overly, orderly boring food husband who could eat the same meal (soup and sandwich) for months. I could smell the ginger and garlic in your post!
Leave behind a sandwich and come over for some noodles!
I don't make enough noodles! But I do start to crave cooking long, stewy meals. This afternoon I've been making a very slow short ribs dinner.
Oh, my, can I relate to this line: "I just felt… good. Capable. Real. In control. Like I had roots and purpose. A little bit fancy." ❤️
It's interesting the rituals and methods I have used to soothe myself have both stayed the same and changed over time. These days, when I am feeling out of sorts, or have a lot of feelings to process, or have a situation I want to think about, I take a walk. A long, meandering walk. No music. No books. No podcasts. Maybe a dog. I look at the ground, my feet, the sidewalk, the trees, the sky, the houses, peoples gardens. It's almost like a meditation - I find my mind wandering. I just walk, and think, and don't force it too much, but what ends up happening feels something like marbles rolling around in my head. All of the things I need to process or think about get turned over and examined in my mind, and my other thoughts come in and then the next thought gets examined. Honestly, it's magical. By the end of my walk, maybe it's not all resolved, but I usually have a better handle on how I feel and what I would like to do, and how to frame things in my mind to make sense. Maybe I haven't done this my whole life, but man, I should have. I do think that I always found a way to get to this meditative place in my head, sometimes by hard exercise, sometimes by rocking, sometimes by doing a craft project. But walking has helped me the most, it is the most sustainable. Also, the dogs love it too.
Love this! So many marbles are rolling around up there - such a good way to think of it.
Walking meditation is such a powerful practice--I loved reading that!