From Duty to Devotion
As we enter the week of Thanksgiving, I am holding the complexity of this season. For many, this time carries joy, connection, and the comfort of tradition. For others, it brings grief, a sense of displacement, or the ache of a history that still echoes in the present. I want to acknowledge that truth gently and openly.
It is difficult to celebrate a holiday whose story has too often been told without honoring the lived experience of Indigenous people, without acknowledging the families torn apart by deportation, or serving those without stable housing or safety. These realities exist alongside whatever gratitude I may be inspired to feel this week. Naming them invites me to show up for those who need support, while also allowing myself to slow down, feel my gratitude fully, and recognize the privilege it is to gather in comfort with my loved ones.
Giving Back
As we gather, I’m also reminded that my home, like all homes in the Bay Area, sits on sacred land. Long before our tables were set with linen and wine glasses, this earth was tended by the Ohlone people, who lived in deep reciprocity with the land and the food systems that sustained them.
The more I learn, the more I understand that reverence is not hippie, it is holy. The Indigenous peoples lived in a rhythm of giving and receiving, a balance that allowed the earth to heal and thrive. I have been deeply moved by the work of Lyla June, an Indigenous scholar and musician who teaches how ancient food systems can restore our planet’s vitality.
In that spirit, I pay a voluntary land tax to the Sogorea Te’ Land Trust, an Indigenous women-led organization working to return land to native stewardship and to rematriate our relationship to Mother Earth. This year, as you give thanks, I invite you to join me in honoring the original caretakers of this land.
Donate here to Sogorea Te’ Land Trust
From the greens at the farmers market to the tastes and textures on the table, these are the details that ground me.
In our home, Thanksgiving is not a reenactment of the myths many of us were taught. It is a day to gather with intention, to be grateful for the love we share, and to stay awake to the world around us. It is a day to remember our connection to the land and to the people who have always known that we are not separate from one another or from the earth we stand on.
This is not about rejecting celebration; it is about expanding it. Expanding our awareness, our compassion, and our willingness to hold more than one truth at a time. Gratitude can live alongside accountability. Joy can live alongside remembrance. Beauty can live alongside honesty.
So as we move through this week, I am choosing a version of Thanksgiving that is rooted in presence, respect, and a sense of shared humanity. And I am grateful for a community that understands the power of acknowledging what is real, even when it is complex.
Apart from letting go of the spoon-fed myths surrounding Thanksgiving, this year feels different for me. Auntie KK, who helped raise our kids, is choosing to spend the day with other friends this year. And my younger brother Matthew has decided to fly to Colorado to spend it with our brother Steve and his family.
Over the years, as my family has become more emotionally adept, Matthew has become my Thanksgiving co-regulator. He is usually the one who softens the pattern in me that feels the need to do everything. Taurus through and through, he brings a steady, grounding energy into our family that helps me relax my shoulders and breathe. I used to worry about him when we were younger, but over the years, he has grown into someone I lean on in ways I never expected. His presence regulates the part of me that was groomed to be the matriarch. When he is there, I do not feel like I have to hold it all.
An old, familiar story I thought I was long rid of was stirred up. The story goes something like, “Great, you will be doing all the work again. There’s no one to help with the dishes, and no one to keep you company.” (This is an absolute bullsh!t lie.) But I caught it. That voice belongs to the dutiful daughter who thought she HAD to do it all. The people-pleaser I used to be. But she does not run the kitchen anymore.
“Just because I can do everything for everyone doesn’t mean I want to.”
Here’s an early peek of our yet-to-be-shared Alameda bungalow project… a perfect moody trio to inspire a quiet moment with a cocktail before or after the holiday madness. Photos by SEN Creative.
Like so many Gen X women, I have spent years acting as the calm center for everyone else. The one who keeps the rhythm steady, the food flowing, the energy grounded. I have held that role with love, though also with sneaky layers of quiet resentment and self-abandonment.
So this year, with him away, I can feel the old dynamics tugging at me. The parts of me that want to default into hostess, manager, empath, planner, overachiever. But I am not letting them drive. This season is asking me to stay awake to who I have become. To allow the softness. To make choices that honor where I am now, not who I was trained to be.
The Great Un-Role-ing
This past year, I’ve been reexamining all my roles: business owner, designer, wife, sister, friend, spiritual teacher. I hold each one up to the light and ask, “Am I in integrity here?” Not all of them continue to make the cut.
Autumnal produce, seasonal blooms, wine for the table… Elements of the season that invite us to slow down and enjoy.
Between menopause, therapy, and one too many “sure, I can handle that” moments, I’m finally seeing that being so capable has become a cage. The endless giving, fixing, hosting, managing… all of it has kept me safe from the discomfort of simply being.
Gratitude Reframed
Gratitude used to be something I wrote in my journal, and now it is a vibration I can feel in my body. I am grateful for time with my kids, for the scent of sage and butter and pumpkin in the air. I’m grateful for Scott’s steady heart beside me, proof that love evolves when you let it breathe. Grateful for our home that has contained it all.
I used to think being a good host meant polished silver and perfect timing. Now I know that true hospitality is energetic. It doesn’t require perfection; it asks for presence. It is how the room feels when people walk in. It is how your heart feels when you exhale.
Even if the pie is burnt or the table is uneven, the spirit in the room is what people remember.
When I set a tone of gratitude, I bless the space I gather in. Every meal becomes a prayer, and every conversation is a portal to new depths in relationships.
A Feast for the Soul
Here are a few simple, sensual offerings for your table. As I cook, I enjoy doing so slowly, with intention. I breathe in as I stir. Feel gratitude for all the hands that contributed to the food in your home. Let love be the main ingredient.
Sweet and savory recipes with photos courtesy of Feasting at Home and Apt. 2B Baking Co.
Cumin Seed Roasted Carrots with Tahini Sauce
Carrots, cumin seed, maple syrup, a little sea salt. Roast until caramelized, drizzle with lemony tahini, sprinkle with parsley. Serve on a handmade platter and feel the season in your bones.
Wild Mushroom Fennel Stuffing
Torn bread, butter, mushrooms, onion, thyme, and sage. Toast, sauté, bake. Eat with your fingers if you must. Let the earth feed you.
Pumpkin Olive-Oil Cake with Maple Olive Oil Glaze
Pumpkin, olive oil, sugar, spice, and pepitas. Bake until your kitchen smells like heaven. Drizzle with the glaze, and offer gratitude to every woman who taught you how to feed love.
Written by Laura Martin Bovard.
