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Awareness Magazine
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My Kitchen Angel

By Meadow Linn

 

I was the weird kid in elementary school whose lunch bag had brown rice and vegetables instead of pizza. I took my own tofu ice cream to birthday parties and drank water instead of soda. When other kids were watching music videos on MTV, I was more likely looking for fairies in the garden or learning to cook a new dish. My childhood was wonderful, but it was not typical by any stretch of the imagination.

 

One of the advantages, however, of growing up ďweirdĒ is that it allows for the possibility of magic. While walking in an urban park with my mom when I was a young child, I was transfixed by something Iíd seen on a nearby bench.

 

Although my mom couldnít see what Iíd seen, she allowed me anyway to run through the grass to get a closer look. Sitting on the bench, I found what Iíd been looking for. It was an angel. A real one. Since I was a little girl and the veil between this world and the Divine was still thin, I was able to meet my angel, even though the other people in the park couldnít see him.

 

From where I was standing, slightly behind a tree, I could see the angel was intently focused on something. My angel wasÖ eating! Typically, religious iconography doesnít depict angels doing worldly things like enjoying a meal, and Iíve never heard stories of angel encounters involving food, but this angel was most certainly having an afternoon snack.

 

As I have been passionate about food and cooking my entire life, it seems fitting that the one time Iíve seen an angelic being, he was eating.

 

Unfortunately, as I got older, not only did I lose the ability to see angels, but I also stopped believing in their existence. I spent many years trying to fit in and be ďnormalĒ and as a result, I lost the openness that allowed me to see the angel in the first place. Instead, I shopped at the Gap, wore polo shirts and penny loafers, and eschewed anything that didnít seem to fit with the ďnorm.Ē Confessing that my family was weird and owning our differences seemed like a surefire route to non-acceptance at school, so I became like everyone else and even began to question if I really had seen an angel.

 

The one thing that has remained constant throughout my entire life, however, is my love of food. I wonder if the angel eating in the park was somehow a harbinger of what was to come.

 

When I was 18 years old, I began catering my momís summer workshops and retreats and have been doing so ever since. Thereís quite a bit of thought, skill, and even luck that go into providing healthy and delicious multi-course meals, three times a day, for up to 14 days in a row to a large number of people.

 

Over the years, Iíve weathered a few mishaps in the kitchen, but mostly Iíve been extremely lucky. To explain my good fortune and seeming dumb luck, a few years ago, half-jokingly I started to say that I had a Kitchen Angel guiding me. At first it seemed just like one of those things you say, but then I remembered the angel Iíd seen as a child. I realized that I did, indeed, have a Kitchen Angel.

 

My angel guides my hand and gently nudges me toward the correct amount of seasonings, the best cooking temperatures, and the most delicious flavor combinations. Iíve discovered that he seems to be most present when Iím cooking for groups, as though he knows that whatever happens when Iím cooking at home will be okay, but I really need his divine guidance when I have large numbers of people counting on me to provide them with sustenance.

 

A few months ago I had an experience that cemented my belief in my Kitchen Angel. The menu Iíd planned for that evening was extremely ambitious. Iíd planned a five-course authentic Vietnamese meal for 25 people and had only two hours to do it. Perhaps a bit crazy, but I was just so excited and inspired by the sweet, salty, and fresh flavors of Southeast Asia that I wanted to share as many dishes as possible with the guests at our retreat. With only 30 minutes until the group would be arriving for dinner, I was still washing rice, peeling winter squash for a curry, and grating vegetables for a salad.

 

Generally, I work better and feel more inspired when my workspace is tidy, but the kitchen was a mess. There were piles of food and stacks of dishes everywhere. As the heat began to rise in the kitchen, and I was beginning to feel increasingly frazzled, I remembered my Kitchen Angel. Although Iíd never done this before, I decided to consciously ask for his help. Within minutes of requesting assistance and expressing gratitude for all the other times he had quietly aided me, the most remarkable thing happened.

 

Time stood still.

 

I continued to chop, slice, and stir, but the clock stopped moving. Even now as I write this, Iím thinking this sounds absurd, but thatís what happened. What had been heaps of raw vegetables just moments before was now simmering on the stove in a delicious coconut curry, and the rice was happily steaming in the rice maker. Only after I was able to return a bit of order to the kitchen did the clock once again start ticking. The meal wasnít yet finished, but it was starting to look like I might actually be able to pull it off. With just 10 minutes before the dinner bell and still work to be done, a number of workshop participants showed up and offered to help. With their assistance, we were able to get everything completed and on the table on timeÖ and the meal was delicious.

 

It felt as though my Kitchen Angel was present in his divine form, but also I think he may have had a hand in the arrival of the human kitchen angels as well. It was such a joy (and a great help) to have the seminar participants volunteer to help during those final crucial minutes. Although part of me remains skeptical and wonders whether a clock can really stop moving, thereís another part of me ó the same part that saw my angel as a child ó that knows that magic and divinity are everywhere when we take time to open our hearts and walk in gratitude for all the magic that surrounds us every day.

 

If you are interested in inviting a Kitchen Angel into your life and into your cooking space, you can read about how to do this in my new book that I co-authored with my mom, Denise Linn, international healer and past-life expert. Visit:(http://www.The MysticCookbook.com) and sign up for our newsletter to receive a free download of a meditation to meet your Kitchen Angel.

 

Meadow Linn believes the life of your dreams is only a meal away. The more you savor the seemingly small moments each day, the more you savor your life. She is the co-author of The Mystic Cookbook (Hay House, November 2012) and creator of Savor the Day, a delicious blog filled with personal stories, beautiful photos, & scrumptious recipes. To find out more, visit www.meadowlinn.com