Monday, June 19, 2006
Bread-head, the knead to figure things out
One defining characteristic of bread, according to Webster's, is that it is life-sustaining. A substance so inherently associated with basic life, that I can’t stop myself from comparing it to another intrinsic piece of existence unfortunately missing these days: Peace. Of mind or on earth, no matter how I slice it, I’m trying to find a clue.
In a world without rest, sense or meaning, merely mastering basic bread can give you a little peace. A kind of awareness of yourself and the sustenance you’re creating. The kneading, the leaving to itself, the eventual golden brown, lovely-warm, fluffy sense of who and what you are - bread is something that makes sense.
As I seek to understand the world in which I live, I can’t help but measure out the lunacy I see each day. Headlines, line-ups (on tv or otherwise), leftovers and the Christian right - how do you make sense of things you can't really believe exist? I need to simplify things and bring it back to the ingredients in my bowl.
So here I am, stirring up what really matters. As important as this step is, though, all the measuring and considering and contemplating the appropriate amount of this or that just wasn’t a whole lot of fun. But now, as I knead, I begin to appreciate the things I see each day. With some Monk spinning and a steady rhythm, I just enjoy. Working along, having fun and releasing frustrations, I knead out the problems of today and they flake away - like the beautiful breadcrumbs I’ll end up with if I get it right.
After all that fun, I’ll probably sit back, cover the bread and feel slightly buzzed and optimistic that things will work out all right. I might even go back one more time for good measure and punch out any remnants of negativity. Whew. Give it a little break, leave well enough alone and accept that your work here is done, I’ll tell myself. Now it’s time for the real answers to come. All of this work doesn’t mean anything if it doesn’t fluff in the oven.
There it is - my problem - baking away. I hash out the details here and there, watching the top brown and the sun set. In just a little while, that bread will cool off and settle, as will my mind. When I cut into that first, perfect, airy slice, I’ll know that I’m back. It took a few steps, but I mastered the bread and gave my mind a little of the sustenance it needed.
In a world without rest, sense or meaning, merely mastering basic bread can give you a little peace. A kind of awareness of yourself and the sustenance you’re creating. The kneading, the leaving to itself, the eventual golden brown, lovely-warm, fluffy sense of who and what you are - bread is something that makes sense.
As I seek to understand the world in which I live, I can’t help but measure out the lunacy I see each day. Headlines, line-ups (on tv or otherwise), leftovers and the Christian right - how do you make sense of things you can't really believe exist? I need to simplify things and bring it back to the ingredients in my bowl.
So here I am, stirring up what really matters. As important as this step is, though, all the measuring and considering and contemplating the appropriate amount of this or that just wasn’t a whole lot of fun. But now, as I knead, I begin to appreciate the things I see each day. With some Monk spinning and a steady rhythm, I just enjoy. Working along, having fun and releasing frustrations, I knead out the problems of today and they flake away - like the beautiful breadcrumbs I’ll end up with if I get it right.
After all that fun, I’ll probably sit back, cover the bread and feel slightly buzzed and optimistic that things will work out all right. I might even go back one more time for good measure and punch out any remnants of negativity. Whew. Give it a little break, leave well enough alone and accept that your work here is done, I’ll tell myself. Now it’s time for the real answers to come. All of this work doesn’t mean anything if it doesn’t fluff in the oven.
There it is - my problem - baking away. I hash out the details here and there, watching the top brown and the sun set. In just a little while, that bread will cool off and settle, as will my mind. When I cut into that first, perfect, airy slice, I’ll know that I’m back. It took a few steps, but I mastered the bread and gave my mind a little of the sustenance it needed.
