Its not too difficult to recall times when my mind and body were
craving to enter the kitchen. Where cookbooks and food magazines are
kept, I keep getting pulled to open it magically. Like how little Lucy
was drawn to open those wardrobe doors as depicted in The Chronicles of
Narnia.
Day after day, thoughts of putting my hands to work never cease to
leave me at rest. Stranger still, I thought it was a mind of clarity.
As clear as if it was a heaven sent purpose of my life! So when the
need to make glorious food to share with loved ones, to write
pleasurably about disappeared, I couldn’t find a rationale for its
disappearance.
The weeks flew by quickly. I was mourning the loss of a purported
great new love. Blogging about food had given me as much pleasure as
whipping up the perfect pasta. Many attempts, but no fruit of labour to
be harvested.
What a fantastic sense of relief to finally find the answer to this question!
As they say, it is the ripening of karma. The conditions of a once
optimistic world that I believed in had so seriously deteriorated that
I decided to find some solace and hope within spirituality. Suddenly
circumstances allowed me time to spend some time learning from him.
Slowly the realisation becomes clearer. Something we all know how to
preach to the unhappy person next door, something we all read before.
Happiness comes from within. All those times I head towards the
kitchen, almost obsessed with cooking which was an outlet to mask
possibly a hard day at work, a frustration that needed to be vent or
most often, an intention to please others because when others are
pleased, I become happy.
The answer to the question. I have spent less time thinking and
making food, not because the passion has diminished. Its just because I
know that it will not bring me real happiness. As I stand at the
counter today, grilling pear for a salad, I know I’m doing this not
because I’m trying to forget an unhappy episode, it’s because I am
truly enjoying what I’m doing – for myself and for others.
