At the beginning of 2023, I was wasn’t sure what I was doing here. I had just closed my food business and struggling to find my next adventure. I have always enjoyed writing so I thought I would write a little, share my recipes and talk about the things that matter to me. I didn’t know where it would lead, but I certainly didn’t expect my hobby to turn into a mission.
Somewhere in the mess of 2023 I found my footing, and it was more sure than ever.
It wasn’t an easy process. I have always been very goal driven and suddenly, I found myself without professional goals. Fortunately, my husband, who has been my partner in life since we were teens, coaxed me to accept a slow season. Finally, I relented, and it was in this slow season that I found only found my calling, but I learned to embrace slower living.
I had felt misplaced for a long time, and even more so since the pandemic. The pandemic stripped away all the good parts of the business I created and unfortunately, I couldn’t get them back. In anticipation of my business closing I tried all the things to figure out what to do next. Nothing felt right. I have a part-time legal consulting gig that keeps my skills sharp, but it’s not something that will turn into my life’s work. I struggled feeling like nothing fit.
2022 left me to swallow a very bitter pill wondering about the choices I have made that got me where I was. I was still recovering from a major illness, the loss of my dog Moose, and the closure of my food business. However, I didn’t want to be angry or unhappy. I simply wanted to find my peace.
So I did what I have done before to find the answers: I went into my kitchen. The only day I didn’t cook or bake something in 2023 was when I was out of town. I expanded on everything I knew about food. I taught myself the art of sourdough bread and baked bread every single week of the year (even filled brioche rolls!); I ventured into vegetarian cooking and found joy in new flavors; I made a bigger garden and grew vegetables I had never grown before (becoming obsessed with eggplant in the process); I created a tea garden so I could make my own tea from scratch; I canned jam, pickles, salsa and relish. I changed all my ingredients, and then revised all my recipes in turn. I tried all the things I never had time for in the past, and new ones I had never thought about.
I worked on my personal development as well. I am a big advocate of personal growth, so I took my own advice and recommitted to it. I sought out my ex-coach and rejoined a personal development group. It’s a small group of people that gathers monthly via a very structured session of sharing our deepest feelings in a most authentic fashion. We call it simply, “Forum”. In Forum, I bared my soul consistently every month, never missing a meeting. Little by little, the more I talked, the less stuck I felt.
The life that is unexamined is not worth living.
Plato
I did all these things and more. In turn, I found myself again, along with a more improved, albeit older, version.
Food has always been important to me, but the slow season gave me time to realize some things and connect the dots. One of those things is my passion for researching the truth. It came to me that I could use my background as a medical litigator to find information about food and health, then break it down and interpret it. I don’t trust those on social media who clammor for likes and foresake authenticity, but I do trust myself. I can re-apply my training and skills easily to food because of my experience in running a retail food business and developing recipes, as well as my passion for cooking and baking. In fact, the more I researched, interpreted, created, cooked, baked, gardened, walked and talked. . .the more I fell in love with myself again. Imposter syndrome had stripped away my self confidence, but allowing myself a slow season gave me time to get it back.
I had such an unsettled feeling for so long that when peace and conviction crept in quietly, I almost didn’t recognize it. One day while I was shaping my sourdough bread, sunlight gleamed through the window and danced on the countertop in front of me. My heart expanded, and I felt as warm and light as that stray beam did on my hands. There in my little kitchen I felt peace flood over me. I knew I was in the right place. I realized that I liked slowing down. In the slow, I had time to do the simple things I always overlooked before, and rekindled my love of creating in the kitchen. I also had time to discover the things I wanted to accomplish during my life.
That day I realized that I felt. . . . happy.
I love doing work that can make a difference in the lives of others. Discovering the truth about our food and sharing information, helping others become more aware and intentional, and teaching the techniques and recipes I have learned that I use in my own life. All of these things are now a passionate undertaking to fulfill a longing I had as a young girl to right the world.
As I look back on 2023 I am thankful that my life slowed down and allowed me the space to do the work that brought me here. Some people discovered this during the Pandemic. For me, I worked harder than ever in the Pandemic in order to save a food business. Most of us who owned small businesses did so. Thus, I am grateful my slow season found me in 2023.
Every living thing will have its slow season. It’s up to us to claim that season when it presents to us.
I expect 2024 to be filled with much more writing here, as well as expanding on my weekly newsletter. In November I unexpectedly launched a podcast and now relish in growing that as well. It fits me. I enjoy seeking out interesting people and sharing what they say with the world. I know that I wouldn’t have found podcasting without embracing the time to figure out what I wanted to do.
I will also be launching a 39 day challenge this month, Mindfully Nourished. I want to share all I have learned about food.
Oh and if a slow season presents itself to you, instead of fretting over what you should or could be doing instead, maybe just slow down with it. There are so many gifts offered to us, if only we will slow down long enough to recognize them. We can truly find ourselves in the quiet.
