Freshly Baked Bread...It Does The Soul Good

I'm sad and lonely today. Well, I actually am lonely a lot. Yes, I have many friends and wonderful family that make it so I don't feel so lonely. But it feels as if there is a part of me missing. Its floating somewhere amongst the stars waiting to be found. Maybe one day I will...

In the mean time I've decided to make fresh whole wheat bread. Being a "Chef" or whatever I am I have the ingrediants and means to make something from scratch without the use of a bread machine or going to the store. The silly thing is, I actually have a loaf of wheat bread I bought from the store not to long ago.

But there is something that sooths your soul and inner voice from its deamons when making bread. Feeling the soft, spongey goodness under your fingers as you slowly knead the dough. Watching it slowly rise from a tiny round ball into something that actually allows you to punch it down.

Its sitting in my window now with the warmth of the sun causing it to expand and grow under its watchful eye. Its simple. It makes me wish for times when you only made your fresh bread and you ate it with a bowl of hearty stew and your own freshly made ale.

When I make fresh bread *which I think I'll do more often* I like to pretend I'm someone I'm not. Someone who only has the things required to survive day to day rather then having things that fill up my house, that fill up my soul with clutter and no imganation.

I've recently been wondering who or what I am. Yes, I know I'm a human. I know that life dictates me to be something that conforms to socitey, that plays the game the correct way and doesn't try to change the rules. But sometimes the rules are meant to be broken. I struggle with who I am, knowing that its what helps guide both my spirital and mental sides of me. I'm not ready to explain it further. I know some people who are my friends perhaps wouldn't understand. And I'm not ready for their judgement. Perhaps in time. Perhaps many loaves of bread to come.

But for now, I'll sit and watch as the fruits of my labor grow and change before me. Waiting for that moment to punch it down and watch it grow again.