Philosophy of Soup
I have this theory and before you ask, yes it does involve soup. of course.
It goes a little something like this..
When your world becomes turbulent, insisting on violently tossing you about and you can’t quite seem to grasp any shred of normalcy there is only one remedy to set your mind straight.
Step one: Breathe. Take one of those deep, life changing breaths that center you and invigorate you more than any cup of coffee could possibly accomplish.
Step two: Put on your apron, slippers, put on some jazz, and gather your gaggle of vegetables.
Step three: Chop your little heart out–dice your frustrations out on the cutting board. As the carrots, potatoes, zucchinis fall away into little fragments under your knife and your multicolored army swells across your counter begin to toss them into a large, bubbling pot. Your troubles will evaporate with the sensational smell of your comforting creation.
Step four: Have a glass of wine..or two..while you patiently await the soup to form.
Step five: Eagerly ladle a bowl far to large for common sense, sit down, close your eyes, and enjoy.
There is something about that first steaming bowl of jumbled goodness created by you that is comforting and satisfying in a way that escapes definition. People ask why I talk about soup in a mildly obsessive manner, it is rather bizarre I realize, but it really comes down to this indescribable correlation associated with safety and love that is perpetually nestled in my brain .
Though I have paralled the soup experience with..other things..my affinity for this mind-mending method stems from something much deeper. There is never a time when soup will not fix a bad day.
So. On the darkest days when your head is hopelessly tangled in knots that you cannot even fathom beginning to unravel, give it a try. This simple act is essentially a reminder to slow down, meditiate upon the simple beauty of the world.
Plus, you get to eat at the end–and honestly what is better than that?