Soup is a lot like a family. Each ingredient enhances the others; each batch has its own characteristics; and it needs time to simmer to reach full flavor.
My recipe for dealing with anger and frustration: set the kitchen timer for twenty minutes, cry, rant, and rave, and at the sound of the bell, simmer down and go about business as usual.
I'm always calculating what I want to do, who I want to be, what I want to accomplish. I don't need to worry about that - that's always there on a slow simmer. The muscle I have to work on is being more present.
I worry that if whatever pops into your head at any instant immediately goes online, you lose the crucial time for your thoughts to simmer and evolve and build up nuance, depth and empathy.
You will soon find that I am a bit obsessive about my work. And that is a little sad, one often feels strangely restricted, not finding time to simmer, although one actually has many interests.
I make it a rule always to believe compliments implicitly for five minutes, and to simmer gently for twenty more.
Things don't weigh me down any more. I confront things, and I move on. I don't dwell on things; I don't let things simmer under the surface. I am where it starts and where it ends. I have the power in my life to be happy.
I have a corn creamer that I love. It extracts pulp and juice from kernels, and I simmer that down into a creamed corn that has an almost mashed potato-like consistency. I add butter and hit it with chopped fresh chives at the end for an accent of color.
A million words were going through my head and honestly I didn't say one of them. I wanted to let it sit, simmer, you know I wanted to soak it all in - the moment was amazing.
I do think that I'm a big believer in having an idea or having ideas and just tucking them away in the back of your brain. Even if you aren't consciously thinking of them, I think they simmer. You're working on them, even if you don't know you're working on them, and I think having something in your head for a while is a valuable thing.