The Sweetness of Baking and Presence

The Sweetness of Baking and Presence

By Molly Harmon, Shoshoni work-study staff

Three eggs, one and a half cups of flour, a pinch of salt… Baking is a lot like presence when you hold it up to the light. You can take a breath, clear your mind of past burnt crusts, but none of that decides whether your cake will gently drop out of the pan and onto a cooling rack. After doing your best, all that remains is to set the timer and let 350 degrees of heat do the rest.

Have you ever tried to plan your future, only for life to do what it does best and flow in the opposite direction? We often grasp for control over the parts of our reality that taste best when set free. Career leaps, love in all its forms, a big move across the country… Life shifts as often as the definition of sweetness.

What felt sweet last year may hurt your stomach today. In moments of reflection, it’s often lucky and, dare I say, kismet, when things refuse to go the way we thought they should. Brownies meant to turn out fluffy but ending up fudgy remind your friend of the frosting his mom used to make. A slice of bread that, in your mind, “should” be as light and airy as your last batch becomes the thick, doughy comfort your neighbor needed on a hard day.

Every moment we live and breathe is a gift, regardless of the ego’s idea of perfection. When you take the time to walk through the aisles of a grocery store and measure each ingredient of your loved one’s birthday cake into a bowl, you embody presence in every sense of the word.

Once the prep is done, small moments of magic appear in the waiting period. Breathe in for four seconds, let out for four. Soon the kitchen smells of sweet ripe fruit and gratitude. Out the slightly opened window and into the streets, there is love, After your knuckles release their grasp on any time besides the now, you see it as if it was always waving at you, asking for seconds, and thanking you for noticing.

Baking and presence share a laugh at the bus stop and pause to smell the crisp winter air. Small moments that remind us we are human, woven together like the crust of a pie, form a story of shared compassion and oneness. Sugary words of joy and appreciation lift spirits without clinging.