Reflection on Culinary Mysticism and Healing

When I think about the preparation of a meal filled with love…
When I think about the ingredients and the organization of getting started, grabbing my mise en place from the refrigerator, getting my cutting board and my knife, something in me starts to happen.

Regardless of how I’m feeling, what emotions are weighing on me, once I get there and I put my hand to the knife and I start the prep of my ingredients, at that point any pain, any distractions, any grief, heaviness, weight I’m carrying is instantly lifted.

With the addition of music, the mise en place, the cutting board, and the knives. it’s like a rebirth happening in my soul. A rebirth that has been cleaned,
cleansed, wiped free of any unwanted, unneeded, stressful thoughts, feelings, emotions, or weights.

As I decide what else I need to start the preparation of this dish, If I’m baking, do I need my mixer and whisk? If I’m frying, my cast iron skillet? Or even if I’m simply slicing with nothing but my knife and a board?

Cooking is a process.
Cooking is my therapy.
Cooking is where I communicate love.
Cooking is how these emotions were passed down.

I posture myself as the matriarch in the kitchen, a culinary genius, a mystic, a creator of healing for the mind, body, and spirit.

Though the pain and heartbreak still exist, when I get in the kitchen,
it provides some form of healing. That pain is then transferred: into love,
into creativity, into sound, the sound of healing. Whether it’s Jazz, R&B, or Hip-Hop, it becomes rhythm, movement, breath. The energy from the heartbreak, from the disappointments, it changes. Nothing dies. It just changes form. That grief doesn’t vanish. It transforms through the knife, the spoon, the heat, the pot, the stirring. And with that, the manifestation of healing begins.

As tears roll down my face, those drops of sorrow change form too. They become love. They become release. They become creativity. The energy changes from sadness to softness, from heaviness to productivity. Some of that pain still remains. It moves in cycles. Because processing grief is a wheel, a spinning thing that never quite stops. But the tears add to the healing. They flavor the creativity. They bless the manifestation of transformation. And through these stirs, these fries, these chops, the healing is not just in the act. It is in what’s being created.

With my hands.
With my matriarchal love.
With my compassion and empathy.
With the quiet strength that holds others when they fall apart.

The meal becomes a shoulder to cry on. An ear that listens without judgment. Without advice. Without shame. It becomes a safe space for grief to speak, for pain, depression, disappointment, heartbreak to stretch out and be seen. And that shoulder is present in the food. That compassion lives in the pot.
That empathy lives in the pan. That healing lives in the creative act itself.

Even now, as I put my hand to the plow, not in a field, not in labor under the sun, but in the format of pen and paper. With tears still rolling down my face. The transformation of energy is happening. Even now. As I write, as I speak, as I pour out my heart, healing is taking place.

This writing is therapy. This offering is transformation. And through it, I know that someone else also carrying heartbreak, disappointment, or even embarrassment will feel their own shift. Because I’m not just sharing words. I’m creating space. Space for the pain to be named. Space for the shame to be softened. Space for the emotions to change form into love, into acceptance, into healing.

Through the preparation of different components of a meal. Through the sacred ritual of matriarchal culinary mysticism. Healing pours from my hands, my mind, my body, my spirit, and my soul. Every chop. Every stir. Every bake. Every stew.

Healing comes forth through these God given, anointed, mystical hands.
The energy channels from my fingertips, my heart, my mind, my womb.
The healing moves. And when I plate the dish, when I load the meal with proteins and vegetables and sweets, what I am really loading it with is:

Strength.
Encouragement.
Peace.
What you need to run on.

Sacred Utterance

This plate is placed in front of a soul
who is still broken, still aching, still unsure of how to move forward. But in this moment, you’re getting what you need.

So now…

Get up from the table.
Wipe your mouth.
Push your chair back.
Wash your hands.

And go back into the world, where some form of healing has found you. Where something in your mind, body, and spirit has been reminded that you are not alone. Little by little, you are moving toward a new energy. A shift. A rebirth.

You will rise.
You will run on.
And you will see what the end’s gon be.

Ase’ and Amen