I went to the mall today because I needed some items that required a mall outing. I know there are countless teenagers across the land who actually enjoy going to the mall, as do many adults, but I am not one of them. An old friend described being mauled at the mall and I have remembered that phrase ever since. Full disclosure-I like buying things, I like shopping-more than I care to admit-but I really do not enjoy the mall. The sterility, the mass production, the faces all running together-this is what I find unsettling. Nevertheless, I willingly trudge to the mall; because it is the only place I can easily purchase certain things. Once I leave I feel spent and my mind is often racing. Also, it is very hard to not want more things after being at the mall. I inevitably pass many cool items that I never thought of wanting before I saw them sitting there calling out to me with their vivid patterns and colors.
So, once I came home, despite the sore feets and tense shoulders I set about to bake. I find that baking eases the monkey mind. There is something about the ritual steps of baking, the collecting of the ingredients, the measuring, the mixing, the tasting and the cleaning up that restores some balance to a day like today. Possibly it is because it is an andidote to the mass produced excess that the mall represents, or maybe it is just because they taste so very good, they make my family happy and in the end I get to lick the bowl.