How many of us have played the “Whatcha thankful for?” game on Thanksgiving?
You know — the modern version of Grace, where you go around the dinner table right before everyone is ready to dig in, waiting nervously for your turn, and then blurting out one or two sentences off the top of head just to get the task done? Most are thankful for their family, their kids, one copying the other, hurrying along in order to move the game ahead quicker and eat!
Thankfulness should be a year-round daily routine, but as human nature runs, we ritualistically do one big “Thanks to the Universe” around this time, hoping the energy sticks for the remainder of the year, or at least until the next thankful holiday arrives like clockwork.
I know I will rise bright and early this Thursday, throw on my comfy, cozy robe, tying the belt extra tight for the cooking marathon ahead (as not to have a wardrobe malfunction in mid-vegetable cutting). Then, for some strange reason, or no reason at all, I will break into my “happy dance”, jiving to the sounds of thankfulness dancing in my head. Joy will boil up inside and a rhythm in my kitchen will start to flow. A little bit of stirring, a little bit of mashing, a little bit of stuffing, will glue together the thankful sonnets I’ll be singing to myself. It happens all the time when I cook. The magic of food and life are always entwined.
Instead of giving thanks in typical fashion, why not change it up this year and kick into the thankful mode the minute you wake on turkey day? Take a moment and honestly look at your life. Count the sunsets you’ve seen. The hugs you’ve gotten and given; the friends you’ve made. The laughs and the tears and the pain that have been threaded through your life. Pause and give yourself permission to feel the energy emanating from the bread, the wine, the vegetables and the turkey. Let your energy mix and mingle with the food before and after you consume it. Put that energy into your food and your conversation. Share that life energy with those around you; with those that have moved on and those who are yet to come into your life.
More thoughts on the sense of taste can be found in my book,