April 13, 2019
I went to our writing class yesterday morning (Cia stayed home for some needed solitude), and, once again, I was deeply inspired by the writing that was read at the end. These folks – all ladies, except for our leader – are in their 70’s and 80’s, and are thoroughly honest in their writings about their personal experiences and feelings. They find the strength, every Friday, to say the most heartfelt stories about themselves, and to share their scariest or happiest thoughts. What Delycia and I especially enjoy about the class is that it’s the only one of the several adult groups we meet with that involves no arguing, no interrupting – only civil and sincere sharing.
I enjoyed cooking for Cia and me this week. Slowly, I am letting go of my anxieties and defeatist thoughts about cooking, and finding the genuine peace that can come from quietly and carefully preparing a meal for a loved one. Last night, I cooked up a simple pizza recipe, and as I was getting it ready, I was able, at least now and then, to stay centered and focused on what was happening right now, this moment – the sprinkling of the cheese and the sauce, the careful placing of veggies around the pizza dough, the scattering of some additional sauces across the top. I’m finding that even preparing an easy pizza can be an almost spiritual activity – some moments of silent, pleasing meditation in the kitchen.