passion for bowls

the one i broke (half of tord boontje), the one i found (perfect chipped scratched blue white breakfast bowl), the one i inherited (polka dots from my grand-father's house)

i can never get enough of bowls. they make me insanely happy. the way my hands cup around them. the roundness of them, the fragility. the way they can carry everything i need. i once went on a retreat and brought along a bowl (golden hungry bowl by tsé-tsé), then spent the whole reatreat eating and drinking only out of that bowl. it was a fantastic experiment in mindfulness: i couldn't drink and eat at the same time, nor could i eat things that didn't belong together. i only ever had to wash the one bowl. but i had to wash it often. if i wanted to eat huge portions, i couldn't fool myself into thinking i had eaten hardly at all (that's your seventeenth bowl there, honey!).

would it work at home do you think? i'd like to try. anybody wants to join me for a bowl week? starting monday? (that gives me a few days to choose my bowl...)