I love my phone. Seriously, I have been an intense phone user since 2012. In this few years, I’ve noticed myself unintentionally reaching for it, mindlessly scrolling. Sometimes it’s to avoid an uncomfortable feeling—like that “dead-air” silence during lunch with colleagues, or to avoid thinking about how stressful tomorrow’s meeting is going to be. Even after work, when I am already mentally drained and using my phone feels exhausting, I still can’t seem to stop.
Because I’m so used to always having a screen in my hand, it is incredibly hard for me to just put it down and do nothing. Jumping straight into traditional meditation and forcing myself to feel that intense boredom from a sudden loss of dopamine stimulation just doesn’t work for me. Instead, I choose to do something that uses my hands, requires my focus, and brings me joy: making food.
What I’m practicing is actually called active meditation—which just means practicing mindfulness while your body is in motion.
When people think of meditation, they usually picture sitting perfectly still in a quiet room, trying to clear their mind. For a lot of people—especially if you are stressed, anxious, or dealing with racing thoughts—sitting still feels impossible. Your brain just loops. Active meditation flips that script. It gives your physical body a simple, repetitive task to anchor your restless energy, which actually makes it easier to quiet your mind. Activities like washing the dishes, knitting, running a familiar route, or coloring can all become active meditation if you do them with total presence.
In the kitchen, psychologists often refer to this as culinary mindfulness or therapeutic baking. (I love the word therapeutic, it sounds so theraperutic)
When you cook or bake with intention, it forces you to engage all five senses. That sensory experience is brilliant for mental health because your brain physically cannot worry about the past or stress about the future when it is completely occupied by the sensory inputs right in front of you.
Think about kneading bread dough. You feel the changing texture from sticky to smooth, smell the yeast, see the flour dusting the counter, and hear the rhythm of your hands hitting the board. It completely anchors you in the “now.”
The mindfulness starts before you even turn on the stove. From drafting and planning the recipe to going grocery shopping, your mind becomes completely occupied with a mission—a mission to make delicious food for your family and friends.
Baking, in particular, is very precise. Measuring out flour, leveling a teaspoon of baking powder, or checking temperatures demands a calm, meticulous focus. It quiets racing thoughts because you have to follow a clear, predictable sequence.
While you are mixing the batter, weighing each ingredient, and figuring out the absolute failproof way to do the steps, you have to be focused on the present moment. Your hands are covered in flour, meaning you literally couldn’t scroll your phone even if you wanted to.
If you are dicing an onion, you have to pay attention to your fingers and the knife. This movement gives your brain a single point of focus.
Best of all? Unlike the abstract stress of daily life, kitchen tasks have a clear beginning, middle, and end. When you finish, you have a physical, nourishing creation to show for your time.
Do I want to make this my profession? Probably not, I love it cause it is my hobby and my life doesnt depends on it. I dont want the stress of working in a hot-ass kitchen. (Appreciate all the hardworking chef out there to make good food for the rest of us). The kitchen is my sanctuary. It isn’t about being a perfect chef or following a strict routine; it’s just about giving myself that hour where I’m not scrolling, not worrying about tomorrow, and not filling my head with noise. It really just becomes my own space to breathe.
And if the recipe is good, i will share it here. So that you can join me to feel how theraputic cooking is:)
