Hungarians celebrate the new year by eating lentils, usually in a potage called főzelék, or lentil soup. The humble lentil is supposed to bring good luck and wealth. In what was a poor country for much of its recent history, there have been a lot of lentils eaten on that day.

Lentils are always a staple in my home, when I have a home. An open plastic bag of some homey brand of Hungarian lentils resting at the back of the pantry. Because they easily slip from their packaging, you could swipe the pantry drawer and gather enough errant, spilled lentils for a hearty bowl of soup. And lentils are always good, almost creating a broth as they boil. It’s an item that is at once mundane and miraculous, like sand or snowflakes.

Here’s what you do to make lentils more mental.

Take a handful of lentils, no matter the color, and drop a handful onto the tabletop. With your vision, draw a line from one piece to another. No need to hit each one, just follow where your vision takes you. Designs are inevitable, but are not the point, which is to sense the connection between the grains. One lentil from the next, individual, connected. And, as you do so, notice your breath. Does it fall on an exhale when you land on an lentil? Or on an inhale?

The lentils bound by a web of breath, connecting you to the nourishment, nourished by the connection. If you’re feeling spicy, add some garlic cloves. Then flakes of oregano. If you are feeling satirical, let them fall from your elbow like Salt Bae. Soon you will have a deconstructed soup. But the point is to use the opportunity of spilled lentils to enter into presence. Even if you don’t feel, sense, or seek connection, it’s a good opportunity to notice breath, appreciate the simple goodness of the food, and hope for the best in the new year.

For more mindfulness exercises, have a look here.