self care, somatics, bread, small moments, reflection

Baking Bread and Other Essential Skills for our Time

"Baking bread" seems like odd advice for our time. But the wisdom of doing a small task that can inspire small moments of satisfying magic may be one way that we support ourselves and each other during times of unknown and fear.

One of the hardest things I ever did was help start aschool. It was a time full of possibilities, but was also flooded with unknownsand uncertainty—Would we have enough chairs? Would all our curriculum be readyin time? When would we know our final schedule? In that time of start up—and eventhroughout the first year, I relied deeply on my colleagues and my leaders. Afterall, we were all bought into the same dream and all committed to making thisnew school into a place of new opportunity, rich learning, and deep community.And—it was hard.

One of the gifts of our school model was having a coach who couldhelp us figure out some of the unknowns and who had gone through it before. Jonhad lots of experience in starting up new schools, including one where he was aleader. He recognized the panicked looks and the exasperation when we uncoveredsomething else that we needed to solve for. But one of the most magnificentgifts Jon gave us came in a simple recommendation to all of us—“Make bread”.

At first Jon’s words felt like one more thing to add to theto-do list and I felt resistance.  Whywould I make bread? When would I find time to make it? Who was going to eat it?

 

But as he unpacked the message, I felt the compelling visionof what it held.

Jon explained that baking bread offered us a chance to startand end a process within one day. It also allowed us to watch something come togetherwith many ingredients, create chemistry magic, and then transform into a deliciousreward that could be enjoyed.

 

Jon’s recommendation came with knowing that all the issuesin starting a school were never going to be solved on such a short timeline,and there was never going to be one recipe that could yield immediate results,but the bread could give us hope. Bread became the metaphor for what waspossible, a small sense of completion, a tiny glimpse into magic and awe.

 

That year was full of lessons learned—both good and bad. Ilearned how to be a better teacher, a better teammate, and how to create aschool out of an idea on paper. And—I baked a lot. To remind myself of what itlooked like to create and finish in a satisfying way.

 

In this moment, I feel myself tapping into old feelings—of unknowns,of sudden discoveries that need to be attended to, of not feeling sure-footedabout how I am showing up, but I am returning to Jon’s words. Yes, I’m doing someactual baking, but I’m trying to scale the immensity of what is happening inour country to something small and tangible that I can witness today.

 

Sometimes that comes through a coaching conversation thathelps a client return to their center and find clarity. Sometimes that comesfrom a few hours volunteering at a local nonprofit that addresses food insecurity.Sometimes that means just making someone laugh and take a breath in the busy-nessof the world. Sometimes that means just centering in nature and reminding myselfof all the members in our ecosystem. Whatever breaking bread feels like andlooks like for you—short term, small magic, delight—find it and practice it.