The One Breath Recipe

A Secret Thanksgiving Recipe for a More Peaceful Holiday

No one wants to be told to take a deep breath, especially not in the heat of a moment, especially not me. For years, okay decades, I haven’t even wanted to tell MYSELF to take a deep breath when I’m upset, let alone have someone else tell me. So I’m not telling you to take a deep breath.

I thought I could take all the deep breaths in the morning when I woke up, or at night before going to bed, or in yoga class, or on week-long meditation retreats. I mean, at that rate, the anger shouldn’t even come, right?

Nope. There are still things that make me angry, and when anger comes the deep breaths from earlier don’t solve the problem. Years of breath work have helped me to lower the peaks of my anger, and to have quicker recoveries—meaning I do not get as upset or stay worked-up for long—but it wasn’t until I finally started implementing this One Breath Recipe, that I stopped losing my temper.

I think the term Lost Temper is interesting. Maybe it’s because the word temper is so dynamic. As a noun, temper could mean; any state of mind; a habitual mood; an outburst of anger; or a calm disposition.

So when I say “I lost my temper” I mean, I misplaced my calm disposition, and this is what I’m trying to avoid.

I’ve come to understand part of why we lose our tempers is because—it works! It’s hard to ignore someone yelling. We often listen to people when they’re angry. Anger brings clarity. But, at what cost?

I don’t want to misplace my calm disposition in such a way that causes me the loss of a relationship with someone I care about, but I also want to stand up for what I believe to be true, and anger often gives me the clarity and desire to do so. The One Breath Recipe helps me make space for creative responses to the things that push my buttons.

The One Breath Recipe

Ingredients

• One Whole Family Gathering

• Three Drops Presence of Mind

• One Mindful Breath

Instructions

1. Bring the family together. Place everyone’s memories, emotions, politics, and needs in the mixer. Trust that someone will pre-heat the oven; someone will walk in and press a button.

2. Notice the swirling together of emotions, memories, needs, thoughts, politics, histories. Notice the mixer is on too high a setting—causing the ingredients to explode all over the kitchen. Now, no matter what was planned, the mess must be addressed.

3. Notice the colors in the room. Notice any natural light, any plants or animals, any soothing smells or sounds. Ask yourself, what would Mary Oliver notice in this moment?

4. Take one breath. Start with the exhale, followed by the inhale. One, long, doughy breath. One exhale that clears the board and sprinkles some flour, and one inhale that expands your belly, rises to your heart, kneads your immediate needs, gathers you into your center, and rises to the occasion of the bigger picture. One breath that makes you the head chef of what you will say or do. One sticky breath. One fulfilling breath that places the unbaked bread of the moment in the oven of your warmth. One Breath. Not to solve the world, just to surprise yourself.

5. Repeat step four until the family sourdough is smooth and elastic. The first breath is always the hardest and most important.

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For more (real) Thanksgiving recipes and how to start preparing your kitchen for the holidays now, check out Chef Kendra Peterson’s new Substack: Drizzle Kitchen.