You can tell she is a good cook from the aroma wafting through the open door of the kitchen. She is used to working in the garden all day long, meticulously weeding, and clearing fallen leaves. Sometimes, should the need arise, she’ll even wash our clothes. She seemed hesitant when asked whether she could make a meal for us, only because she wasn’t sure as to our tastes. She made the meal, cleaned up and went about her other chores, without a clue as to the difference she had made to our day. We see in her a sister soul, a kindred spirit, her many gifts sitting lightly upon her shoulders, simply doing what she is called upon to do. One cannot label such a woman, as a ‘Chef’, or, as a ‘Gardener’. The labels are for us, one could say. She would simply laugh and go her way. Perhaps we are corrupted by labels. ” If I am a ‘Gardener’, why should I cook?” A label becomes a door shutting us in. Outside that door is a world of possibilities. Altogether defined by our ‘doing’, we have no idea as to our ‘being’. Could we simply rest by an open door, let the action unfold, and defy our definition of ‘self’? – like Alarmelu, who washes, cooks and cleans and walks away from it all at the end of the day.