Historical inquiry as a contemplative and imaginative practice

A recent foray into using stream-of-consciousness journaling as a generative tool for exploring time and place

I’ve always been someone who feels very deeply, and for whom experiencing something is just as important as understanding it conceptually. This is probably part of why I got into studying food: Because I can create and experience a tangible something.

What I find especially interesting about studying food history is the way that this research feels so much like a lightbulb going off (literally): A subject or time period will feel closed off, elusive, hard to capture or fully understand, than all of a sudden, there’s a flood of light and the topic feels connected and present.

I can’t speak to other researchers’ processes, but for me, this happens when I let myself slow down and use my imagination: Which gets me to this understanding much faster than just using my logical, empirical research skills alone (obviously I rely on those heavily too). Imagining the lived experiences of the people I study and the foods they eat helps bring it to life, and helps me consider aspects of living that maybe aren’t captured in the records we have, but which are critical to thinking about existing in a place and time (I talk about that more in this issue on visiting Mesa Verde).

The experience often feels like the research has been knocking around in my mind and suddenly whatever shifts so that it knocks on the right door and comes flooding through, alive with nuance and experience.

I love studying food because it gives me a tangible, personal way to connect to these cultures and communities through time that otherwise might feel abstract (particularly the farther back we go). Food helps me begin to see the similarities between us, and not just in a pithy ‘food brings us together around the table!’ Kind of way: But in a way where I can use my experience as an eater to consider their experience as eaters, and in so doing, start to expand my understanding so it ripples outward.

One way I go about building these connections, and producing a more nuanced understanding of a time and place, is imagining myself in conversation with folks from the place and time I’m curious about: Inviting them in to tell me about their lives. I do stream of consciousness journaling, which may or may not make perfect sense, but then I can go back and compare that journaling to the archaeological, historical, and anthropological research that’s been done.

Then, I refine. I ask more specific questions in these conversations. I continue to research, and let my subconscious fill in the experience of what this place and time might have been like in a real visceral, tangible way.

I want to note that the stream of consciousness journaling like what I share below doesn’t replace more traditional research methods. Instead, it’s a complement, another way for me to connect with the work and the people whose stories I’m trying to tell. It’s another way for me to process, understand, and imagine, so the depth of my work hopefully reflects the inner reflection I’ve done on a time and place.

But it also allows the work to be fun, passionate, and imaginative, by giving me permission to do the kind of ‘what if? And what was that like?’ thinking that draws so many of us to history in the first place. And hopefully that passion comes through in the work, too.

So for this last issue of the year, I’m sharing some stream of consciousness journaling from a time period that has felt outside of this tangible reach for me: the Bronze Age. Conceptually, I get it. But the felt experience of that time never really felt present. In particular, I have always felt really curious about the Bell Beaker culture from the beginning of this period. But it’s always felt like there’s a wall there: Then suddenly, when I did the journaling below, I felt like I could start to see over that wall. Like I could begin to do the research because I knew where to begin and how to conceptualize it in a way modern minds might understand.

It is, admittedly, a period of time I want to do a lot more research on, however. This is a peek into the beginning of the research process in its generative, most playful stages.

And there’s a lot of overlap to play around with: People were inventing new ways of storing and moving food, and they were living in a time of technological advancement.

That’s a feeling I understand deeply and so, even though the tech isn’t the same, and other life contexts may be different, the feeling (as in the lived, daily experience and the emotional resonance and the zeitgeist) of being in a time of rapid change, is something we can share with people in this time. By thinking in terms of the changes in technology, I can reach back in time and feel their moment more fully.

And that’s what this journaling revealed to me: It wasn’t a list of historical facts. It was an entry point for understanding. And one I’m excited to continue exploring, however it ends up appearing in my work moving forward.

But first, a fun announcement:

I’m taking a break from the newsletter for the next few weeks to work on a new book. Details coming soon, but this one will be light, cute, and lots of fun.

Also, for gifting season, I’d love to be part of the ecosystem of small creators you support this year, with online Culinary Curiosity School classes and Roots + Branches holistic creative coaching.

That includes my class Finding Your Food Story, where I’ll be including this method of inquiry as part of what we learn together.

I’m working through the month of December this year, so I’m here to help you pick even the most last minute gift (as in, it’s the week of and you forgot to buy anything, or you need something else to round out the gifts you did get).
And, I can send a custom gift email to your giftee, if you’d like.

I can also make a custom gift (think private fermentation lessons or a book proposal coaching session) just for them.

Email me (julia@root-kitchens.com) to set this up or ask me any questions.

I designed each of these classes, and every live program, with long-lasting learning and transformation in mind, so they’re gifts that will continue to give for years to come.

Thanks for supporting independent creators this holiday season!

Use the code SOLSTICE for 40% off anything
(paid subscribers, read to the bottom for 50% off).