There’s a sacredness in chopping vegetables, the rhythm of it, the slowness. You can’t go any faster than you can go. A quietness, a feeling that you are close to the earth, connected to the countless others who have stood and chopped.
And then you are creating something, combining flavors and textures and colors, and the anticipation of the enjoyment to follow, the tastes, the smells, the communal eating. You are chopping and you are bringing forth something of the world. Bringing it to the table. Sharing it at the table. You are chopping and chopping. You are slow.
There’s a sacredness in chopping vegetables.