When my children were young and at home, I savored cooking, made homemade soups, and baked bread and desserts. Then, we realized two people cannot realistically consume what a family of four might, especially when it’s been more, when you include extra children and friends, so with the current proliferation of prepared foods, cooking has become minimal.
Now, as we shelter in place, cooking is again an appreciated and celebrated gift. We discuss our meals with intensity. I cook in quantity, and freeze, something I’d stopped doing when our power was out for five days in the fall, and we lost everything in our freezer and refrigerator.
Now our lives swing around food, and when this is over, we may need to swing from very strong trees so they don’t break.
Like toilet paper, food right now, is gold. Today I made broth for soup, cooking chicken, carrots, celery, onion, ginger, and lemons for hours. After straining, I froze some of the golden elixir and some will become soup. The chicken awaits.
This care and presence reminds me of water rationing. Where I live, we are dependent on our reservoirs, so when it doesn’t rain water is rationed. Buckets are placed in the shower. The water is used to flush the toilet. Nothing is wasted, and again there’s a gift in noticing and honoring what flows through our pipes.
Recently we watched the movie A Hidden Life. The movie is beautiful and intense so we watched it in two nights. It shows the beauty, work, and wonder of being a farmer, of procuring food, milking cows, gathering eggs, growing cabbages and wheat. It also shows what a family endures for their values, ethics, and deep inner knowing of truth. Where does each of us stand? How much can we endure? Do we give way, or not?
The movie moves through me as does my life right now. I am a colander, strainer, sieve. The only way I can handle what keeps coming is to allow movement through. I stand, like a sprinkler, in flow and release.