Even though in the Western world, most of us live at some remove from the land and no longer grind flour for bread, we still carry the ancient ways in our hearts and souls. While we buy bread in neat sliced pans in supermarkets, some part of our deep, wild selves must still be bound to the Wheel of the Year, wanting to jump for joy that the earth has again given unto us the crops to make our bread, for bread is life. Perhaps this is why we feel something is amiss when we go hunter-gathering for our weekly shop through the jungle of the supermarket. How could we jump for joy at the sight, or smell, or taste of a sliced pan, that tasteless, cardboard stuff that turns to mush and sticks like paste to the roof of our mouths? How can this connect us to nature?
Blessings on your table!
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