At the start of each week, I generally cook a box of quinoa, and

The words of Meghan Markle, “At the start of each week, I generally cook a box of quinoa, and while it's simmering, I sauté onions, garlic and any veggies I have on hand in a separate pan. I season the vegetables with Spike, a seasoning blend my mom always used when I was growing up, or a little Bragg Liquid Aminos. I always add crushed red pepper and chopped fresh herbs,” may appear at first as a simple reflection on food and routine — yet hidden within them is a deeper lesson about mindfulness, heritage, and the art of daily renewal. In these humble words, she reveals the sacred rhythm of nourishment — the act of beginning each week not in haste, but with care, gratitude, and intention. Her cooking is not just the preparation of sustenance, but a ritual of grounding, an offering to herself, and a continuation of the wisdom passed from mother to daughter.

The ancients would have recognized such an act as a form of quiet devotion. In many cultures, the hearth was seen as the heart of the home — a place where fire not only warmed the body, but fed the spirit. When Meghan speaks of cooking quinoa and sautéing vegetables, she is performing what the old philosophers might have called a “small ceremony of balance.” The food she prepares is not lavish; it is wholesome, simple, and thoughtful. To cook intentionally, especially at the start of each week, is to set one’s life in order, to plant the seeds of steadiness amidst the uncertainty of days to come. In this sense, her words are not about recipes — they are about ritual, about finding peace through the repetition of meaningful acts.

Notice too the reverence with which she invokes her mother’s seasoning — Spike, a blend she grew up with. In this small detail, there lies the great truth that nourishment is not only physical but emotional and ancestral. Each flavor carries memory; each aroma carries history. The seasoning she uses is more than a spice — it is a thread of identity, a bridge to childhood, and a symbol of gratitude to the woman who taught her the rhythm of care. The ancients would have seen this as the passing down of household wisdom, a legacy that binds generations through shared gestures of love. Just as Homer sang of mothers weaving tapestries that preserved their lineage, Meghan’s use of her mother’s spices is a tapestry of taste and remembrance.

Her words also reveal a profound harmony between discipline and creativity. She begins each week with structure — the cooking of a simple grain, an anchor for her meals. Yet within that structure, there is room for improvisation: “any veggies I have on hand,” she says. This is the essence of balance — order and spontaneity in one breath. It is the same principle found in all great arts, from music to meditation: freedom flourishes best when rooted in routine. Meghan’s cooking becomes a metaphor for living — prepare the foundation, then let the moment guide the rest. In this way, she teaches a quiet, practical wisdom: structure your life, but leave space for joy.

The addition of fresh herbs and crushed red pepper reflects another kind of insight — the understanding that vitality comes not from grand gestures, but from small sparks of life. The red pepper brings heat, courage, and energy — it is the fire of the spirit that keeps monotony at bay. The herbs, freshly chopped, bring renewal and fragrance — a reminder that life must always be refreshed. In her simple meal, we see the ancient balance of earth and fire, nourishment and spirit. Even the act of preparing food with fresh ingredients, rather than resorting to haste or convenience, is an act of rebellion against the numbing pace of modern life.

This ritual of weekly cooking also reflects the timeless principle of preparation — that the wise do not wait for the storm to plan; they begin their week in readiness. The ancients taught that foresight is the mother of serenity. By cooking her quinoa and vegetables in advance, Meghan is not merely feeding her body — she is creating order in her environment, peace in her mind, and strength for the days ahead. It is a gentle reminder that the way we begin determines the way we continue. When we start our week with intention, we set a tone of mindfulness that echoes through every task, every conversation, every challenge.

The lesson, then, is both simple and profound: begin with care, live with awareness, and remember your roots. Do not overlook the sacredness of small rituals, for they hold the key to balance in a restless world. Whether you cook, write, clean, or pray — do it with presence. Let your actions be guided by gratitude and your habits shaped by purpose. As Meghan’s example shows, strength is not found only in great acts or public victories, but in the quiet, daily moments when we choose to nurture rather than neglect, to center rather than scatter, to remember rather than rush.

And so, when you next stand in your own kitchen, or at the threshold of a new week, remember this teaching: life’s greatness begins in the small, consistent acts of care. Season your days with memory and meaning. Let your hands move with love, your spirit stay calm, and your habits root you deeply in the rhythm of life. For from these small beginnings — a grain of quinoa, a mother’s spice, a simple meal — grows the serenity that sustains the soul through all the days that follow.