I lose stuff daily. Mostly mundane things like socks or bobby pins or spatulas. Sometimes, I lose my mind. Normal. But for the past year and a half, I lost the most important thing in my life: my breath. I forgot what it was like to truly be. here. now. In the moment. To soak everything up like a sham-wow. Before I lost my breath, I was always there, being where I was, and doing what I was doing. Focused beyond belief. Life. was. lived. I breathed deep and long and hard through everything, that breath never escaped me, even if its Darth Vader-y style freaked out those in a ten foot radius of me.

At the beginning, learning to be present was tough. Especially during moments that I wanted to get the hell out of. But then I realized that if we are always here, always breathing, we can go through it all, and still be okay. Because we’re breathing, we’re alive. Here. And in the here-ness, everything shifts, moves, changes, ebbs and flows.

When I lost my breath, I began overindulging to take me out of this moment. Instead of being with pain or difficulty or piles of stress and worry that seems to weigh ten thousand pounds, I told myself I couldn’t deal with it and I needed to get out of it, stat. That this little brain and body of mine couldn’t handle whatever it is that is in front of me. Shit got done, but with erratic and rushed movement. Which is the opposite of how I prefer to move through life.

I practice Ashtanga yoga every day, and some time ago during class, my breath let itself back in. In. Out. Hold. Pain in my leg. Pain in my brain. Hold. Peace. I felt like I was gliding. Gliding through the grocery store and out of friends houses and restaurants and horribly difficult workouts. Gliding through eating. Through reading and walking. Through feeling every step in my shoes and how my clothes feel on my body.

Through cooking, but frankly, sometimes I don’t want to cook. I usually end up doing so anyways, even if it’s lazy: and this garden minestrone is perfect for those moments. Because it requires no stirring until near the end, just a few initial chops of humble vegetables followed by some layering action. While you cook this, you can breath, or practice your downward dog, or think about anything, or just be astonished at the before and after of this recipe.

It makes you realize cooked romaine lettuce is delicious. That you can take the forgotten remnants of your refrigerator and turn them into a nourishing soup. Just add some protein and this is a complete meal.

What’s nice about the breath is that even if you lose it, you don’t have to summon the saints of finders keepers losers weepers. You can reclaim it at any given moment. Just take one breath. Now. Exhale. And do it again. All the time. Until you can’t anymore.

Garden minestrone

Recipe from The New York Times Cookbook

Notes: omit the peas if you are doing whole30 and if you are following the autoimmune protocol, omit both the peas and the green beans. I also used red pepper & celery instead of the zucchini but feel free to use either.

Ingredients

2 large tomatoes, peeled and sliced

2 medium onions, thinly sliced

1 clove garlic, minced

2 large zucchini, sliced (I used 1 red pepper & 2 stalks celery instead)

2 medium heads romaine lettuce, shredded

1 pound fresh pea, shelled, or one 10-ounce package frozen peas

2 tablespoons minced basil

1 cup minced flat-leaf parsley

1 pound green beans

⅓ – ½   cup olive oil

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

To garnish: 1 teaspoon lemon zest or a handful of freshly grated parmesan cheese (if you tolerate dairy)

Directions

In the bottom of a deep 3-quart casserole, place the slice tomatoes. Layer the rest of the vegetables like this: top with the sliced onions, then garlic, then zucchini (or peppers & celery), then the lettuce, then peas. Sprinkle the basil and half of the parsley over the peas and top with the green beans. Sprinkle the remaining parsley and olive oil over everything. Make sure you follow the correct order and no matter how tempted, don’t stir or mix the vegetables.

Cover the pot and cook over medium heat for 10 minutes, or until the vegetables at the bottom of the casserole release their liquid. Season with salt and pepper.

Now stir the vegetables and mix well. Cook, covered, over low heat, stirring frequently, just until the beans are tender, 15 to 20 minutes longer. Don’t add water, the vegetables have enough moisture of their own. Serve hot or lukewarm, and top with the lemon zest or parmesan cheese.