Being: Conscious, mortal existence; life.
Every month we welcome two families, two people, two voices to share their stories in whatever way they chose. We hope that you find joy in their daily lives, and their simple habit of just being.
“Sharing our meals should be a joyful and a trustful act, rather than the cursory fulfillment of our social obligations.”
I have gentle memories of my childhood when my mother would engage in what we fondly called ‘fishes and loaves-ing’ a meal. I swear she was possessed by some measure of magic: She would start with a seemingly insignificant amount of food, scour pantry, freezer, and fridge for add-ons, and transform paltry into a feast aplenty for five.
And I think she may have passed an ounce or two of her magic onto me, for I find myself in my mother’s shoes as often as twice a week.
Thanks to my mothers’ culinary sorcery, I’ve been well indoctrinated into the desire to feed others. I adore packing lunches for my love, stirring pots of hearty stews for hours, baking a fresh loaf of bread that crackles as it cools. I pore over the internet, ogling the so called ‘food porn’, pining recipes that make mouths water.
But it isn’t the act of cooking itself that I find so deeply fulfilling, but rather I relish the opportunity to fortify someone I love. There is an intrinsic intimacy that occurs when sharing a home-cooked meal, a sense of ‘this is for you, your well-being. I made this to feed your body, mind, and soul’.
Just this morning, I welcomed 4 friends into our home for a spontaneous Sunday brunch. They watched me cook, offering their assistance where they could—hungry eyes looking on in patient waiting. We broke bread, shared fluffy egg frittata, giggled over pancakes. Those two hours transcended time, albeit briefly. We forgot that our close friend was deploying in 48 hours, ignored our graduate coursework without anxiety, and lost ourselves in each other’s company.
At the conclusion, we returned to the regularly scheduled programming of our lives with some measure of heaviness in our hearts. Watching my friends leave, I was truly content. We’d been present, shared ourselves with one another, and truly found a moment of peace.
This month we are welcoming Makenna here as a guest contributor to the Being series. Makenna lives in Georgia, and is an Adjunct Professor and Doula. You can check up on her at her personal blog, CALL SIGN: Wife and we hope that you’ll return here each Monday in August for her reflections.
Rhythm of the Home is an online magazine for families that focuses on creating with children, nature explorations, seasonal celebrations, conscious parenting, and mindfulness in all that we do. To learn more about us, please visit us on Facebook,Pinterest, and Twitter.
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