I spent last night in a shiny, modern hotel in Manhattan, on Crosby Street in Soho. It was my last night in the city, and the first night since leaving the Big Summer Potluck in Pennsylvania. The previous two nights, I’d shared a room in a Bethlehem hotel with two talented and beautiful friends, Winnie and Lindsay. But last night, I was by myself again, soon to head home to my family.
In the elevator on my way down to breakfast this morning, I caught myself avoiding looking at my reflection in the mirrored elevator walls. I’ve never liked seeing myself in mirrors. When faced with mirrors, I tend to focus only on the necessary parts, singularly – the contour of my eyelid as I put on eyeliner, the center of my lip as I apply lipstick– but rarely as a complete person. I realized, in that mirrored elevator ride, that by avoiding my image – avoiding myself – I was doing the exact opposite of what I’d spent the weekend doing at the Big Summer Potluck. During the Potluck, a retreat for food writers, photographers, and bloggers, I’d spent hours reflecting on myself as a whole, looking inward, delving deep, and taking stock of both who I am and where I’m headed.
While food was a focus of the retreat (I refuse to call it a conference), the Big Summer Potluck was, to me, less about food and more about enjoying and embracing the community of writers and creative types who make up this food blogging world. It was about finding meaning and purpose in what we do, be it making beautiful photographs, creating nourishing food, writing the book we’ve been dreaming about for so long, or lifting up and supporting those we love and cherish.