When One Stirs the Soup

Sort of soup and burnt toast and isolation mixed into one.

When One Stirs the Soup

Soup is magic.

It is used on days when the air is heavy and time feels like burnt toast. Today is one of those days. Chopping onions until I cry and dropping the vegetable into the pot. Silently I stir the soup in my pyjama’s thinking of nothing. Stirring, round and round, clockwise, unchanged. Stirring until the universe clears, until I can see, until I can live again. Thoughts don’t linger, except stirring, stirring, stirring. The nothingness of stirring the soup leads me anywhere, everywhere, nowhere. I am not cold, I am not hot. I am stirring the soup. I look at myself from above, smell  the burnt toast, feel the heavy air, and live the stirring of the soup.

When stirring the soup I am one.

 

Author's Note

I wrote this in a little dream...

Reviews

[ScarlettTheDreamer]

Um... I've never stirred soup before but this is really good. I like it!

[.]

this is a bit ethereal--but i get the concept-
i always say i do my best thinking cooking-
-so i sort of relate to this...i love it...

james:-)