Cooking is a science.
It’s an art.
It’s a craft.
It’s a struggle,
And it’s a dance party.
While I don’t have a recipe for you,
Nor list of ingredients,
I do have a story to tell you,
Of how I make my favorite dish:
It starts with an open heart.
And ends with a contentment.
You see,
I am the chef of my life:
I am the fire, the pan,
The ingredients.
I am the cookware, the stovetop,
The spices.
My ingredients are thoughts and actions:
Mistakes, and triumphs;
My fire ignites belief,
Desire, and need.
My pan layers on experience,
In which I simmer and sear,
Expand or fold into myself.
Cooking is a science.
It’s an art.
It’s a craft.
It’s a struggle,
And it’s personal.
Experiment,
And season to taste.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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 The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer |
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Photo credit: iStockPhoto.com
