I watched Jamie Oliver videos for three days straight, taking notes like I was studying for the most important exam of my life. His “best roast turkey EVER” has seventeen steps. The man bastes with maple syrup and bacon fat. He has opinions about potato varieties that border on religious conviction. And last Saturday, while my husband was at work, I did it all.

This is new for us. Usually, we cook Thanksgiving dinner together on Sunday. He does the turkey and stuffing, I handle sides, and we move around each other in our kitchen doing that dance where you’re both trying to check the oven at the same time. But this year, something in me said, “I want to do this. All of it. Myself.”

I don’t have family gatherings to compare this to. There are no childhood memories of aunts arguing over whose stuffing recipe is better, no cousin drama over the kids’ table, no inherited china patterns or grandmother’s gravy boat. 

Thanksgiving, for me, has always been something I’ve had to invent from scratch. Which means I get to decide what it means, what it looks like, and what matters.

And apparently, this year, what mattered was achieving Jamie Oliver’s level of crispy potato perfection and having everything ready as a surprise when my husband walked through the door Saturday evening. 

Then we spent Sunday on what I’m calling “the leftover parade” of turkey sandwiches for breakfast, elaborating on desserts (pumpkin cheesecake AND apple caramel pie because why choose?), and that particular contentment that comes from knowing you’ve got three days of good eating ahead.

It’s funny how we create our own traditions when we don’t inherit them. We get to decide what deserves seventeen steps and what doesn’t. And gratitude looks different when you’re building it from scratch rather than receiving it pre-assembled.

THE WEEK’S ENERGY

There’s always something shifting because nothing stands still, and this week the shift is from internal to external, planning to doing, thinking about change to actually changing. After months of internal renovation (remember my gutted Airstream?), we’re finally ready to show what we’ve been working on. It’s like we’ve been in cooking school for months, and now it’s time to actually serve a dinner.

The energy early this week has this quality of coming into your own power. Not the aggressive, pushy kind, but the quiet confidence of someone who’s been watching YouTube tutorials and taking notes and is finally ready to attempt the thing. It’s deciding you don’t need supervision or collaboration for this particular creation. You’ve got this.

There’s also a harmonizing energy that wants everything to be beautiful, balanced, and actually enjoyable. More than just functional; genuinely pleasurable. It’s the difference between throwing a turkey in the oven and creating what Jamie – yes, we’re on a first-name basis now – calls “a proper feast.” The extra effort isn’t about impressing anyone, though. It’s about the satisfaction of doing something really well because you can.

This week also brings this interesting tension between the desire for harmony and the need for honesty. It’s like when someone asks what you’re grateful for and you want to give the pretty answer, but the truth is more complicated. “I’m grateful I get to create my own traditions because I don’t have family obligations” doesn’t exactly fit on a Hallmark card, but it’s real.

And by week’s end, there’s momentum building. The kind that comes from finally executing plans you’ve been refining forever. The prep work is done, the recipes are chosen, the ingredients are purchased, and now it’s just about the doing.

WHAT IT MIGHT FEEL LIKE

You might find yourself taking on projects you usually share or delegate from a desire to experience your own capability. There’s something deeply satisfying about saying “I’ve got this” and meaning it.

There could be moments where you realize you’re doing things dramatically differently than you used to, and it’s not even a big deal anymore. The transformation already happened. Now you’re just living it. Like how I used to think Thanksgiving required a crowd, and now I know it just requires intention.

Some of you will feel the urge to beautify everything, not in a performative way, but because life is short, and why not make the everyday moments special?  Why not attempt the seventeen-step turkey? Why not make two desserts when it’s just two of you?

You might notice yourself being pickier about what traditions you maintain and which ones you let go. Just because something is traditional doesn’t mean it’s mandatory. And just because everyone else does it one way doesn’t mean you have to.

SOUL PERSPECTIVE

From the soul’s point of view, this week is all about the sacred act of choosing. When you don’t have traditions handed to you, every tradition becomes a conscious choice. When you don’t have family recipes, every recipe becomes an intentional selection. 

The soul sees how we sometimes need to do things alone to know we can, not because partnership is weak, but because sometimes you need to create something entirely yourself to understand your own creative power. My husband and I cooking together is beautiful. Me surprising him with a Jamie Oliver-level feast is a different kind of beautiful.

The soul also recognizes that gratitude is more powerful when it’s specific and chosen rather than generic and obligatory. So, being grateful for the absence of family drama is just as valid as being grateful for family connection. And being grateful for the freedom to create your own meaning is just as valid as being grateful for inherited traditions.

This week asks us to own what we’re actually grateful for, not what we think we should be grateful for. Create beauty and meaning, not some idealized version of them.

HOW TO BE WITH IT

Your way is valid, your traditions count, and your small gathering (even if it’s just you) matters just as much as someone else’s massive family reunion.

When you feel the urge to take something on solo, trust it. We often need to prove to ourselves that we can create magic without assistance, not to excluded about exclude others but to include yourself fully. Let yourself go all-in on something this week. Pick your equivalent of the seventeen-step turkey and commit. Not everything needs to be that elaborate, but something should be. We need at least one place in our lives where we’re not cutting corners.

If you find yourself grateful for things that seem “wrong”, like being grateful for what you DON’T have, let that be okay. Gratitude for absence is still gratitude. Sometimes what’s missing is the gift.

YOUR WEEK IN ONE SENTENCE

“This week, I savour the satisfaction of having done the thing my way.”

MINI PRACTICE FOR CONSCIOUS TRADITION

Choose one thing to do the “proper” way instead of the efficient way. Make real coffee instead of instant. Use a cloth napkin instead of paper. Heck, even light a candle with breakfast.

Notice how it feels to choose beauty and ritual when no one’s making you and there’s no audience, when it’s just for the satisfaction of doing something well.

These are small traditions. Some you’ll keep. Some you’ll let go. But all of them will be yours, chosen consciously, created from scratch.

ANYWAY

The thing about not inheriting traditions is that you get to decide what matters. Every ritual becomes intentional, and every feast becomes an act of creation rather than repetition.

This week, we’re all Jamie Oliver-ing something in our lives, meaning, taking what could be basic and deciding to make it extraordinary, because we can. I believe the greatest gratitude is for the freedom to create meaning from scratch.

PS: You know when you’re knee-deep in an elaborate cooking project you volunteered for and you’re checking three timers simultaneously and questioning everything but you’re also weirdly happy because this is YOUR chaos, chosen and created by you? That’s the energy of transformation meeting tradition. I have two spots open for someone ready to create their own meaning from scratch (30-minute monthly calls or UNLIMITED emailing/texting from 1 week to 3 months). Reply if you’re done inheriting other people’s recipes for life.

PPS: The real question I hear some of you asking is, is it extra to make both pumpkin cheesecake AND apple caramel pie for two people, or is it just properly celebrating abundance? Because if choosing abundance when you could choose moderation is wrong, I’m not sure I want to be right. Sometimes the feast is the point.