A favourite little bowl of mine has just been chipped. I notice my immediate reaction is a soft sinking feeling of disappointment, but then I begin to think… Why? It’s still a beautiful little bowl, it just has a chip in it now.
And I begin to wonder when did we start to throw things away (wherever Away is) when they became flawed in their perfection. Not any less functional, but less aesthetically pleasing. When did we begin to find imperfection less beautiful? This is not something I have the answer to, but for me the wondering shifts something. Creates a desire to not let imperfection lessen my perception of value in something still perfectly functional and beautiful.
Just a thought.
Dinner tonight is just-out-of-the-oven-warm banana cake made with almond meal, coconut oil and maple syrup. (recipe here)
Oh the joy of being a grown up.
A decision to do something with the overripe bananas leads to cake baking. And as the husky notes of Etta James fill the kitchen, I find simple pleasure and presence in easing a warm slice out of the tin (imperfect as it sticks to the base) into a bowl with a dollop of organic apple & cinnamon yoghurt.