When it is poured into the bowl of human consciousness, it is all mixed up, swirling and opaque. Allow it to sit undisturbed in solitude and it settles & clears.
Spin the settled bowl slowly between your hands to observe the effect of fretting, in your soul: anxiety does not change the distribution of things in the mind, it just clouds and confuses the edges of consciousness.
It is salty enough to make you thirst, yet liquid enough to quench it.
It is hot when it’s fresh, and pleasantly chill when fresh from the fridge where it gained complexity and depth of flavor overnight. Good miso soup is never lukewarm.
Good miso soup is nutritious. It builds you up, strengthens you, helps you heal, just as the good souls in your life do.
The best parts of the soup align themselves toward that into which you pour your soup, but only if you don’t hold back. A restrained devotion clouds your soup again.
Good miso soup inspires creative analogy and metaphor, and the occasional anthropomorphic rhapsody.
I love miso soup.