I made soup today
So this may not sound like much to you, which is fair. But for me, it’s a lot more than what meets the eye. I made soup. The second day of January, From scratch, without a recipe, repurposing left overs to provide further nourishment for my family. And most importantly… I enjoyed it. Not eating it, I haven’t even had it yet. The creation of it. It’s on the stove simmering and I am on the other side.. unscathed. Perhaps even enriched.
So what does making soup have to do with Ayurveda?
In this case, it closely relates to my journey with Ayurveda. It was a moment I got to check in with myself and see how far I’ve come. And I’m writing this because I’m proud of the simplicity of this growth. But just as Ayurveda is simple, it’s the implementing and the big shifts that come with it that are the challenge.
While studying Ayurveda I was dreading the kitchen series. I was dreading the strict rules of food combining, and herbs 100% overwhelmed me even before I had any experience with them. I grew up in a household with lots and lots of home cooked meals. But the kitchen, often the heart of the home, was a battle zone. My mom struggled with her relationship with food, and as a result the kitchen was tense. In Ayurveda food is how you nourish and love yourself. And I just couldn’t grasp how food could equal love. Even the many attempts I’ve made since being an adult have been hard. I’ve completely forgotten ingredients, I’ve rushed, I’ve made messes, I’ve ruined food, I’ve slammed pots and pans.. It’s just never been a positive, let alone an actual loving experience. But I knew I needed to get there.
And today, I got there.
Ayurveda makes it sound simple. Bring more love into the kitchen. Sure. But for me it wasn’t just about approaching my kitchen with a positive attitude and prepared. It was an emotional journey for me. I had to go back and unpack where these intense, scary, anxious feelings came from. I had to develop compassion for my mom, and get to the root of what caused her to be in this state. I did a lot of going back into the family archives and getting a clear picture of what really happened. And then I had to forgive.
In order to cook soup in a safe loving environment today, I had to slow down my actions. I am quite a pitta dominant lady,(ie- I can get shit done) but I have grown to understand I like to tackle big projects- and think I can complete them quickly. Like… start to finish in a day. Like.. seed to full grown ass tree, in a day. But that’s.not.reality. And in my own reality it didn’t work in many circumstances, especially not the kitchen. I knew I wanted to use the ham bone from what we had cooked for New Years Eve. I learned such a simple way to prepare stock out of the roughage we usually would toss or compost. Reusing and maximizing the ingredients in your kitchen and creating meals at home is a huge avenue to the kitchen being a loving place. I realized I had the ingredients, had the plan. I knew what to do. But had I done enough work with the emotional layer…?Would I be able to be in my kitchen, not my family home as a child, in this safe space.. And I was.
While it was.. just soup. It was also an opportunity to honor a tradition. Growing up, usually close after the New Year my mom would make split pea soup. She would take the whole day, get the ingredients, get it going on the stove, and then look after it as it simmered. It was a time she was at peace, she was confident in her abilities, and was eager to share with me how she used the ham bone from our New Years Ham. i have my own family now, and we decided to be really thoughtful about our intentions around tradition. Baking a ham for New Years dinner was an easy choice. After dinner as a friend helped to tidy, they asked if I wanted to reuse the bone for stock or soup. It was like a light bulb went off. A lightbulb of remembering. I could remember the split pea soup simmering on the stove and could see my mom stirring it. It felt like it was in me. It felt good to honor my mom, and it was a really safe and .loving experience in my home.
And maybe one day my son will also have a moment of remembrance and choose to also make some new years soup. While I can’t predict the future, or control it, I can teach him the kitchen is a safe and loving space, and I can make sure that the anxiety, fear and anger isn’t a staple ingredient for him as he forms his own understanding of how food is love as he creates memories together in our kitchen.
