Nourish
Ode to the Belly
Oh, hot pot, you practical and sophisticated infrastructure of nourishment, thank you for holding it all together. The behind-the-scenes slow-brewed bone broth, the preserved herbs and spices of summer’s harvest, the colorful parts of protein and vegetables: complementary collaborators in this community of heat.
Oh, precious resources, for stoking the fire.
Oh, belly, you need this. To sit. To sip. To digest. To plume.
Oh, fire outside, your low glow is not forgotten. We wait.
Oh, contained goodness, thank you again and again for letting me hold what humans make. The cup, the matcha, the conversation.
Oh, Imbolc, the Celtic ritual of tending the belly before spring hatches. Pre-birth rituals to honor the milk to come, the melting of what’s stuck, the sweet flames of fleeting light, the moon and the lunar new year, the days—one after the other, the questioning: how many more days of cold?
How much waiting and tending before transformation shows signs?
Oh, bones and belly, you’ve got this.
For inspiration on writing odes, see Writer-ish with Darien Gee’s Substack writing workshops (Gee writes and teaches in Hawaii; when she visited UConn, I attended her brilliant reading).
Love this post! 🧡🍵☀️ I attended an Imbolc fire ritual last week at Kripalu Yoga. Carrying so many sensory moments from it,,, the smell of warm milk in a shared bowl, the cold air and fire’s smoke together filling my air passages, the setting sun filtered through bare branches, and an image of a seed beginning to turn under the soil and snow. So happy to connect with you and your lovely writing!
I love this!