I like to cook. Seriously like to cook. I love the smell of onions when they hit hot butter, garlic in anything, the soft scent of vanilla can calm me like few others. I need to remember this everyday when I drag my feet over dinner.
I get it, the day is long, I am tired, I feel uninspired when I think of the meal. I have been known to wail, "Do we need to eat dinner EVERY DAY?" However, I need to remind myself that no matter how stressed out I am, how pressed for time, how tired and sore I am, the moment the cutting board is on the kitchen counter and my knife is in my hands poised to chop an onion I can feel my heart rate settle and my mind quiet.
The quiet and interesting thoughts that wander through my mind as I chop, peel, slice, and arrange are nearly meditative. It is a way to clear all the clobber out that has built up through the day, or puzzle at a particularly sticky situation I am facing. That moment when I hit a rhythm and my movements become more like a dance is pure magic for me. Of particular joy is that spot in time when a little voice in my head will begin to whisper ingredients I hadn't thought of that are the perfect addition to what I am working on.
I don't draw, paint, write poetry or compose music. I cook. It is my art, my expression of love, the way I show my care and they way I find peace in a noisy world.