I had a great day. I signed a lease on a new, better, cheaper apartment. I got my heater fixed on my old Honda, although that didn't hold. I spent most of the day with my ex, and we always enjoy each others company. It was a remarkable coincidence that she had an appointment at a medical clinic at almost the same time and in the same area as my new building. Yes the universe conspired:) So I drove her and we spent the day together.
I got home fairly late and pretty much feeling exhausted. I realized that I had bought soup ingredients and I had scheduled myself to make soup also. I could have done it tomorrow, but I decided to go ahead, it only takes an hour.
I normally love making soup. It is a familiar ritual and allows me to contemplate as I work, since I have done everything many, many times before. Tonight was no exception.
My mother was a great cook and although she never formally taught me, I guess I spent enough time in the kitchen watching her that when I decide to start making soup from scratch many years ago I just went ahead. I don't think I ever consulted a cook book, I just followed my nose.
The first soup I made turned out pretty decent. I remember when she was still alive I asked her to sample my freshly made soup. She tasted it thoughtfully and said, "Its good but it needs tomatoes". I had forgotten to put in a can of cubed tomatoes which is what I have done ever since.
Except tonight, I realized I had forgotten the tomatoes again! I could blame it on Mercury retrograde, but never mind. I forgive myself and I was somewhat amused at making this same old error.
I was very conscious of the fact that I was cooking vegetables. I know the chicken and barley need the processing of heat, but I kept thinking of all the enzymes I was killing by cooking these beautiful organic mushrooms, onions, peppers, broccoli, garlic and yellow squash.
The raw food folks are definitely on to something. My making of soup was so much governed by habit and tradition. I though of that story about the woman who cut off the top half of a pot roast and threw it away. When asked why, she said, that's the way my mother did it. As you probably know, her mother did it that way because she didn't have a pan big enough to fit the whole roast.
Consciousness has been brought to the task. I love that there are always variations on the ingredients.
Food can be a great metaphor. What ever we put our attention on is food for us. Does it truly nourish or is it poison? I have been watching TV too much. I think of giving it up like some artists I admire, but all I really want to do is just be much more discriminating in what I watch.
After I made my soup I sat down in front of the TV and caught the rebroadcast of Chicago Tonight. Phil Ponce was doing a wonderful interview with a literary academic about Blagojevich's use of poetry in his recent press conferences. The man was very, very insightful. I loved it. I don't want to give up this kind of TV!
Mostly today with the warm Leo moon I was just feelin' the Love. I am blessed and grateful for every moment of this life. I would like to do a better job of being of service, and now I know how.