When I bake, time feels softer, slower, loving, kinder. It waits for me. Allowing me the leisure to measure ingredients, yet in the end tweaking to my senses. A dash here, a pinch there. Reading and reading again, a recipe, the story of the creation waiting to be formed. One of the few places, I get to own the end of a story. The slow gentle glow of the oven, culminating in a sustained, deep heat. Purposefully creating chaos, a mess, knowing the sweetness that would be devoured in the end. Lost in the attention. The feel of sticky dough. Shaping, molding, kneading, inhaling, tasting. Fingertips dancing, hands speaking. The anticipation of goodness. The excitement and sometimes exhilaration. Patience in its sweetness and art, slowing me down. A gentle, quiet lesson in trusting and hoping. Letting go of control, trusting... A new found love for uncertainty, made sweeter by the fullness and deep content within, when a creation comes together. The courage and persitence to try again when it does not. The joy. Oh, the joy when bellies are full and lips sing of laughter when the creation is tasted, touched, shared, devoured...
The freedom of it all.
This is my meditation...
9/4/2015 09:37:00 am
A meditation indeed. So beautifully written! And that pie looks like heaven!
9/8/2015 08:58:53 pm
Just love how you write what you write how you present your images. Lovely lovely
9/8/2015 10:05:40 pm
Thank you for your sweet kind words. So glad you stopped by. 💕💕
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