I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Veronica Spasaro’s reflection Bread of Life.
Early morning and I enter the kitchen. I lift the mason jar off the top of the modem, the heat of which has kept the jar just warm overnight. I inspect the sides of the jar for signs of life. Bubbles have formed in the brownish sludge pressing against the glass sides. They form black holes reminiscent of craters on the moon’s surface and signify that life is indeed thriving within. I remove the cloth cover and hold the jar to my ear listening. I am reminded in that instant of the entrancement I experienced as a child on the beach, holding a shell to my ear and discovering with astonishment the entire ocean surging and sounding from within a tiny shell. Listening now, I hear a constant hum, a buzz, the sign of energetic activity in the jar. But there’s more. Above the hum, soft popping sounds as gases escape the surface, reveal that my starter is indeed alive and ready.
This pleases me greatly. Today then I can make bread. At the same time, I experience gratitude. None of this readiness is my doing. Though I have worked to create optimal conditions, the readiness of my starter is I know, beyond my control, seemingly influenced by weather and other mysterious factors impossible to gauge. Readiness I have learned is sheer gift and not available to me through my efforts alone, however careful. I am doubly grateful as today is a fine sunny day which will enable me to bake later using just sun power from the solar panels.
I turn to the gathering of ingredients. This recipe has been distilled over several years to be as life giving as I can make it. My primary focus is to honour the miracle of my body, to use ingredients that nourish and support the exquisite balance of the body and the 37 billion trillion chemical reactions taking place each second. I want also to work in harmony with Mother Earth. First, I grind sunflower seeds, flaxseeds, oats, almonds, buckwheat. To this I add arrowroot, psyllium. I am mindful of the farmers who have switched to organic farming methods to make available these clean products, free from chemicals, pesticides and herbicides. I am conscious too that this method of growing will not bring harm to farm workers. Yet I am humbled in the knowledge that the switch to organic farming methods does not come without huge cost. I am grateful for those who grow and sell these products as part of their commitment to integrity in business and to the nourishment and healing of our planet’s life-giving air, water and soils.
Sifting and mixing follow. I now add to the ingredients a portion of my lively starter together with water. I am suddenly conscious of the beauty and simplicity of this ordinary glass bowl – the roundness of it which enables me to perch the bowl on its edge, the better to mix; the smoothness of it which makes folding and turning so effortless. I am acutely aware that this ordinary bowl is gift and adds beauty and goodness to my life. I am reminded of the many who have been driven from their homes in war, or by fire, flood, earthquake and have lost access to all things both great and small that nurture their lives.
I continue with mixing and make minor adjustments to gain the right texture. I turn out the mixture into a deep soup bowl lined with a cotton tea towel. I place the bowl into the sun and wait, allowing for fermentation.
Time for baking. The oven has been heating for some time and I upend the sourdough onto the heated baking stone. A few slashes to the top to enable expansion while cooking, and then into the oven.
An hour later the aroma of fresh bread fills the house and I set the loaf onto the baking rack. I look, I smell, I touch. It seems perfect, inviting, alluring – a gem of a thing, offering sensory pleasure of infinite magnitude, almost beyond comprehension. Although I have made this bread hundreds of times over the years, I am once again in awe at what is produced. Something here in this ordinary task is both wondrous and tremendous – something I cannot quite grasp. Every loaf seems sheer miracle and grace and beauty and gift. In the very making is connection to the utter gratuitousness of life: access to healthy and safe ingredients, to fresh clean water, a lovely glass bowl for mixing, my hand and body that can grind and mix and measure, power for cooking and baking, as well as connection with unnumbered peoples the world over, who plant, grow, pick, pack, sell and dispatch with mindful intention and loving awareness.
Indeed, the whole process brings me to a very deep joy in life and into the goodness of all that is.
The bread has cooled and is tantalising. I cut some slices marvelling at the holes that are now inside the bread. I gather the crumbs, anxious to waste nothing of this precious loaf. As we sit to eat, I sense the communion of all life that converges to now provide this bread.
Fruit of the earth and work of human hands, this truly is the Bread of Life.
Veronica Spasaro lives on a beautiful rural property in community with two step children their
partners and 5 grandchildren. Together with her husband she is committed to the many dimensions
of living a whole-foods plant-based lifestyle, as sacred path to healing and wholeness for humanity
and the Earth.
