What Yoga Taught Me About Cooking
This article originally appeared on Yoga Journal
My best friend of 16 years recently sat at my kitchen table alongside my toddler as I was making dinner. At some point while we were sipping wine and catching up, she mentioned how calmly I was moving throughout the kitchen.
Her comment stopped me in my tracks. I've always felt somewhat frantic when I cook. Actually, I've always felt somewhat hasty in almost everything I do. Each day, I juggle working part-time as a yoga and meditation teacher, caring for our toddler and baby, and cooking dinner every evening. Like most people these days, I'm rushed. When I chop broccoli, flecks of green florets fly like confetti.
A few weeks after my friend shared that observation, my mother came to stay with us. As I was prepping dinner one evening, she made a surprisingly similar remark about my pace.
They were right. I was moving with a sense of ease that felt vaguely familiar yet altogether new to me while cooking. Instead of my usual clanging of pots and pans and mess piling up in the sink, there was something almost rhythmic and graceful in the way I was moving. I slowed my cadence while chopping vegetables so I could take in the vibrant colors. I stirred ingredients with steadiness and surety rather than quickly dumping them all together. There was even a kind of calm in the way I plucked cilantro leaves from their stems, a task that I used to dislike.
Something had definitely shifted.
Moving With Haste
When I began practicing yoga, I craved fast-paced movement. I remember feeling so frustrated when teachers would ask us to remain in postures for even five breaths. I wanted to rush through each posture so I could get on with my day, as if I was checking things off a list. Savasana was especially agonizing for me. As I lay there, attempting not to fidget, I'd impatiently count the seconds until the teacher would end class. I was almost always the first person to roll up my mat and slip out of the studio. Then I would race to the showers so I could make it back to work on time.
Similarly, when 5:30 pm came around, my kitchen would be mayhem with me hastily throwing dinner together in the shortest amount of time possible. This usually resulted in some part of the meal being burnt and pots needing to soak overnight just so I could scrape the residue of my haste off of them.
I've always had a hustle sort of nature to my personality. And because I've always been praised for how much I could quickly and efficiently accomplish, I made getting things done my personal metric for success.
But I don't think I ever realized how much I was rushing everywhere in my life.
Finding My Pace
At some point in my yoga practice, I began to actually let myself be in the postures without anticipating what came next. I started to pay attention to what my body was doing. I observed the way the outer edge of my back foot connected strongly to the ground underneath me. I noticed how much more ease I felt in balancing poses when I breathed evenly and gazed steadily.
With practice, commitment, and patience, I found that I could cultivate an experience of steadiness and ease in my yoga practice. This is the sthira-sukham asanam that Patanjali describes in Yoga Sutra 2.46, a phrase that's typically translated as "postures should be stable and comfortable."
As I learned to let myself find presence and even pleasure in the process, I stopped rushing to leave after class. I let other students shower before me. I even began to feel less frustrated when I missed the train.
What we learn in our practice inevitably extends into the rest of our lives. For me, that means experiencing more pleasure in the kitchen than I ever would have expected. Instead of rushing the process, I slow it down by chopping and measuring ingredients hours before dinner. I also include my family in deciding what to make and even destemming herbs, which shifts something that used to feel like a mundane task into time spent together.
Don't get me wrong, I still rush from time to time. But I no longer want to do anything with haste. When we move fast--on our mats, in the kitchen, or in life--we miss the process, the moments of grace. And there is as much to be gained in the process, if not more, as there is in what results.
About Our Contributor
Neeti Narula is a yoga and meditation teacher and the Director of Mindful Movement at THE WELL in New York City. Her classes are inspired by various schools of yoga. She is known for teaching alignment-based classes infused with thematic dharma and yoga philosophy. Neeti believes that the way you move and breathe on your mat shapes the way you move and breathe in your life. You can practice with her in person at THE WELL or at Modo Yoga NYC. To learn more about Neeti, check out her Instagram @neeti.narula.
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