Because we can’t just open the refrigerator or pantry, instead of mindlessly consuming, in the outdoors, we think about meal times in a different way. We revert to something more fundamental, breathing fresh air and eating food that we put work into making, two activities that are basic, yet essential to our well-being. We’re not texting, we’re not tweeting, we’re not analyzing, we’re just eating.
Food tastes better outdoors because we simplify. We take down all the walls that our everyday routines require us to put up, and we enjoy food for food’s sake.
A worn tablecloth. A spork. A bowl of sauteed vegetables. A group of friends taking the time to reconnect. A view. A sunset. A dinner with no distractions.
As writers, we live double lives: lived once in the world of others, and again, in the quiet of our own minds. It takes a certain amount of will and courage to leave with regularity the circle of humanity in order to enact a kind of theft, which is one aspect of what the writing life seems to be.
I read Rachel Ford’s writings more regularly than any other blog. I love her writing because its sincere; her words unconsciously unfolds her vulnerability, packaging it in an inspiring and hopeful way of viewing life. Even her sadness is uplifting. Her happiness refreshing, real, raw,…She has a beautiful family; one that embraces a creative life through submerging in different cultures, being with nature, travel and art. I think mothers or to-be mothers will love this blog.
Lonely is like a flavor. No different really, from happy or silly. Lonely is like the flavor of tamarind. Spicy and sharp, you can’t eat it all the time. I’m trying to adjust to lonely. There’s been a lot of lonely in the last few years, but lonely comes with peace, and that makes it palatable. It comes and goes. Friends come and drive it off with their words and laughter.
And in lonely, you appreciate every small gesture. Our neighbor across the street brought us banana muffins today. Banana muffins! How could anything be more perfect?