There’s something very powerful in mundane morning tasks.
As I prepare my breakfast each morning, I grab my favourite bowl, some eggs, and a whisk.
I crack two eggs at a time and let them drop into the bowl.
Whisking – my favourite part.
I hold the bowl firmly with my left hand and operate the whisk in my right.
I try to find the right tempo, as my wrist dances in circles.
Whisking is a beautiful process.
It’s just involved enough that I stay present and focus. It’s not so challenging that it tires me out, though.
I monitor if the egg is at the right consistency, if it’s reached maximal fluffiness, and apply pressure to my wrist and forearm as needed.
Perhaps to an intermediate chef whisking is just like drinking water. Perhaps they can be whisking and still escape to thought. Escape to that place where our minds go when they aren’t needed.
I’m an amateur chef, though.
Whisking keeps me here.
It keeps me living.
I like it that way.