When I was in my early thirties I went through an evolution of the heart and lost a lot of my more dogmatic political friends in the mix. And so I found myself friendless for a whole winter. It was a winter of deep reckoning and I needed a powerful ritual to go with the transformation. I decided to make a different kind of soup every weekend all winter long… I chopped the ingredients and as I stirred them into the soup pot I imagined each ingredient expressed a different quality I wanted to draw toward me with these new friendships. This was an imaginal process, and as I stirred I thickened the brew and quickened the magic. At the same time, I had a pivotal dream about all sorts of children carrying a huge pot of soup up the stairs for the Baba Yaga. These children weren’t scared. They all felt anticipation as they encountered the terrible sacred and softened her more extreme temperaments. I believe that winter I tamed my own shadow. That spring I would choose to quit teaching Montessori School. But that was underground to me still, like the root vegetables that were one of the main ingredient in many of the soups I made. That winter I made every kind of soup imaginable; white bean, spinach lemon and yogurt, Veggie beef, olive and pepper, Caloola, cream of broccoli with dill, aubergine. I even asked my mom for all of her recipes. I also turned time and again to the cookbook my mom gave me that August for my birthday. It was Sheila Lukins cookbook, All Around the World. Well, last week I purchased this cook book again. That same weekend I made and frozen black bean Chili with cilantro, and cocoa and corn, I plan to make avgolemono. And just today I was gifted with a plethora of turnips. Winter is hard for me, I struggle with seasonal effective symptoms but there are several things that actively make it easier, colorful socks, sharing, and soup. Tuesday I will make cream of turnip with smoked paprika, crispy leek slices and horseradish sour cream. I can feel my depth work coming around again soothing the most extreme qualities of the Yaga. Allowing me to age, and create, and imagine, and transform. I am creating an opening for the woman at the edge of the woods to speak with more truth in the world. I can also feel my inner child wrapping a blanket around my angrier child self and pulling a chair up to the table of forgiveness in my life again. On winter’s darker days I will open the weathered pages that are the backbone of my Sheila Lukins cookbook. I will let each recipe take me to the depth space and transform my sharper Yaga edges as I stir the pot. I plan to share the soup with friends, and with it the magic which is an inherent part of the brew. Views:]]>