Sunday Breakfast

It is Sunday morning, and I’m just finishing my version of a Full English Breakfast, which today consists of boiled then sauteed shitake mushrooms, sliced tomato, sliced new potatoes, chopped bok choi, a fried fresh egg, and two slices of gluten-free toast. The anglophiles (and authentic English, Canadian, and Australians) among my readers will notice the absence of sausage, bacon, or (how I miss it!) Black Pudding. In deference to the cancer cooties now living in my body, I have given up meat. I don’t want to give them any help, and processed meats are particularly discouraged by cancer nutritionists. No matter; my breakfast this morning was delicious, and I didn’t miss the meat.

Even though I’ve been retired for 13 years, Sunday is still Sunday to me – a day when I savor the fresh fruits and vegetables I purchased at yesterday’s farmers market, do a little laundry, clear the clutter from my kitchen, and catch up on correspondence.

There’s a certain routine about each of my mornings, especially Sunday.  The addition of a few quirky bits, I think makes it fair to call my morning activities a ritual.

Kismet, my aging border collie, sleeps beside me on an arthritis-friendly cushion. She awakens at 6:00 a.m. and licks my hand or face, whichever she can reach. Well into kidney disease, she is telling me that she needs to pee – NOW.  I know better than to ignore her, so it’s find my glasses, put on a light, struggle into my sweats, and take her outside. As we circle the building I live in, I observe the plants, flowers, and fauna that are popping out early in the morning. Squirrels scurry away; gophers wave from the safety of their burrows, and bunnies – tiny little rabbits that really can’t be called anything else – stop chewing to watch us pass.  The sun is already up, but just two or three weeks ago I would have been treated to colorful skies.  The frogs are still singing in the creek below.   As Kismet meanders among the roses and geraniums, the agapanthus, and the camellias, I notice which flowers have finished and which are in bud or fully open. It’s a lovely time to be out and about.

My breakfast during the week is either oatmeal or muesli, depending on the weather. But I look forward to something more interesting on Sundays. Back in the house I pop two slices of bread in the toaster and fill the electric kettle. I can’t use two electric appliances at the same time, so I prepare some coffee beans for grinding and rummage through my refrigerator to see which vegetables I will use this week. Light the stove.  (Yes, my condo is still using gas, although I suspect that will change soon). Soak the mushrooms in boiling water; grind the coffee and pour the rest of the boiling water over it. Spray some olive oil into my cast iron pan, then add the potatoes, bok choi, mushrooms, and tomatoes. Plate the veggies, add a smidgen of Irish butter to the pan, then crack an egg into it. When the white is firm and the yolk is still runny, plop it onto the plate and sit down at the table.

Later I will feed Kismet, who doesn’t like to eat unless I am in the kitchen with her. So I clear the kitchen clutter, prepare food for my lunch, pop it in the fridge, and put clean dishes away. After she eats, Kismet demands another walk. We go further afield this time – all the way around the edges of the complex. Other dog owners are starting to emerge, and we stop to let our dogs sniff one another. Again I observe the flowers, note the new blooms, and inhale the gentle scents.

Eventually, it is nine a.m., and my phone plays a happy little tune. It’s time to take my cancer meds. And because it’s Sunday, I instruct Alexa to “Play KSQD” so I can listen to my friend Nicholas’ weekly classical music show. I make a second cup of coffee and take it outside, where I move among my potted plant garden, deadheading flowers and removing spent leaves, enjoying the soothing music. Everything is peaceful and tidy in my small part of the world.

Once again, ritual has made everything ok.

A Frightening World

The world is a frightening place, and many of us seem to be anxious most of the time. Ukraine, Israel, Palestine, Syria, Haiti – these nations and others have become part of our daily news diet, and it’s terrible news. World leaders can’t seem to solve their nations’ problems. Here at home, we have two apparently unsuitable presidential candidates and many of our heroes failing to act like heroes.

Among all of these and other concerns, I find myself lying awake in the middle of the night, sifting the long lists of things I can’t control and the very short list of things I can. I worry about my children, my grandchildren, Kismet, and myself.  I worry about children around the world who are unsafe, hungry, grieving for lost parents. Parents grieving for lost children. Children sent alone to distant places.

So how does this relate to my Sunday morning breakfast and my regular morning ritual?

The Importance of Ritual

According to psychologists, it relates perfectly.

Research suggests that rituals can help to reduce anxiety symptoms and stress associated with uncertainty. Having rituals to look forward to can be grounding and reassuring in turbulent times, by providing us with a sense of predictability and consistency. Rituals are also often said to be tied to our values, and as such, can help us connect back to our sense of self, and what is meaningful in our lives.

Peaceful Mind Psychology

Rituals, according to the authors of the Peaceful Mind Psychology website, consist of three things:

1. Repetition, or consistency of behaviors during the ritual, and across time
2. Symbolic meaning, that goes beyond the actions practiced during the ritual
3. Non-functional behaviors – that is, the actions involved in a ritual are not “causally linked” to the ritual’s main purpose

Do you have rituals that you practice? Have you noticed their effect on your stress, anxiety, worry? If so, I hope you will share them in the comments section. If you do not, I hope you will consider developing some, and tell us your plans.

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Marlene Anne Bumgarner writes primarily about food, family, and traditions. Her 2020 memoir, Back to the Land in Silicon Valley, is about raising children, animals, and vegetables on a rural plot of land in the 1970s.  

Organic Cooking for (not-so-organic) Families will be out soon. Marlene is currently writing a cozy mystery.