The Ancestors In My Kitchen

 

They say that a part of you dies when a special Loved One passes away.

I disagree. I say a part of you lives with your Loved One on the other side.
~ Daniel Yanez

Hey, Lovelies.

All my grandparents have passed over, but even though they are gone I still feel them with me. One of the places I feel closest to them is in my kitchen.

Sometimes, when I feel in need of some extra nurture and support I will cook their recipes. The food itself comforts me. But there is something else. There is this direct connection to their love, care and wisdom.

I can sense my grandmothers’ hands guiding mine, I can hear their wise words and feel their kindness. I’m transported back to kitchen tables from my childhood, and from long before I was even born.

Yesterday there were bananas going brown in my fruit bowl, so I turned them into banana cake, all the while thinking of my Nana. Dinner was fish with vegetables, cooked the way my other grandmother showed me, and using lots of parsley from my garden. Marga was mad for parsley.

I though of my darling grandmothers cooking food for my parents when they were small, and then for us when we were young. I thought of their own mothers cooking for them, and the endless cycle of love and care. That nourished me as much as the food I made and ate.

Do you feel that too, when you make food? Or are you a trailblazer, creating new traditions and energies for your own loved ones? Even the recipes you follow that are not from your own family came from somewhere, and nurtured others just like you. I find that very comforting.
Love, a big cup of tea, and a lovely piece of banana cake, Nicole xx

Hi! I'm Nicole Cody. I am a writer, psychic, metaphysical teacher and organic farmer. I love to read, cook, walk on the beach, dance in the rain and grow things. Sometimes, to entertain my cows, I dance in my gumboots. Gumboot dancing is very under-rated.
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6 thoughts on “The Ancestors In My Kitchen

  1. Me too Nicole. Such a precious connection. Your story has reminded me of something that happened recently. I was cooking a quiche for a family I know who’s grandfather/father had died. I did not know that it was the day of his funeral but had in my mind to send something over to them during the days after I had heard the news. I was standing in my kitchen mixing the ingredients when I clearly heard a gentleman say “Thank you my dear.” ❤️ There is a lot that goes on in the unseen realms of one’s kitchen❤️

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