3 minute read
Editor's Letter
Dear Readers,
I’m fascinated by what people think and feel and imagine, and how what’s happening in their mind, for good or bad, influences their behaviors. We imagine danger and take precaution. We imagine a future of love and ask someone on a date. We imagine ourselves in a particular location and plan a vacation. Our imaginations, in concert with our intellect and emotions, are a potent part of our sense of well-being, connect us to our past in the form our memories, and connect us to our future by allowing us to envision a day, week, a life, of our design.
I travel a fair amount as a writer, and I’m often on my own in unfamiliar places. I’ve developed conversation starters that help me make connections, one of my favorites of which is asking people to tell me about the best meal they’ve ever had. By and large, they don’t just describe the food, but the entire experience—the place, the time of year, the smells and sounds, the quality of the light, and the company along with them. In short, I’m asking them to engage their imaginations so I might, in some small way, have that same experience in my mind.
The great grief of the human experience is we are all separate. Separated by the domes of our skulls and the fabric of our skin, every day we struggle to feel understood, and to understand those who are not us. We need ways for one consciousness—the thinking and feeling and imagining that takes place in the scared place of truth behind our eyes—to find kinship in another. Dining is one of my favorite ways to bridge that separation. Even if you’re eating the same dish as someone else, you must ask how it tastes to them—for how else will you know?
Beyond the initial reaction of how something tastes lies a myriad of influences as to why something was pleasurable or not. To taste is to feel and think and imagine, and that taste is connected to someone’s culture, upbringing, travels, ethnicity, religion, family, education, and on and on. To ask someone how something tastes is to ask them who they are, and an offering to bridge the canyon between one person, one consciousness, one life, and another.
As the cold of winter drives us into our homes, our instinct might be to nest in our blankets in a self-induced hibernation. This magazine serves many purposes, but for this winter issue, my hope is that amid these pages you find inspiration to bundle up and venture out into the frigid world for a drink or a meal. Call up a friend or friends, your mother or brother or cousin, or that person at work you don’t know as well as you’d like, and embrace the task of asking that beautiful and profound question that divines us toward kinship: How does it taste to you?
