I’ve kept that actual photograph of a tomato plant on my refrigerator for more than a decade now. I took it when I was packing up my restaurant Angeli to drive away one last time. No one ever planted that tomato. It grew from an errant seed that got stuck in a crack in the asphalt. While it was growing from seed to seedling all of us took care of it until it was nearly as tall as I am. It was a testament to resilience in a tiny package, a seed the size of two dots of a pencil. I loved having it there, just outside the kitchen door as a reminder of dealing with adversity.
I used to be able to take it. Whiffs of dystopia, personal insults, pretty much all of it. Now I just want to roll myself up into a little ball and weep. Before, I could gut out the hard stuff without having a drink or a toke to undo the knot in my stomach. It’s getting harder to do that. I sense that I’m not alone in this. I’m becoming more fragile and I do not like the feeling. The definition of resilience is “the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness”. Or “the ability of a substance to spring back into shape. elasticity” I’ve always thought resilience was a prized attribute, after all we see it abundantly in nature. To navigate my free range childhood resilience was essential. But maybe I need to rethink its value. Maybe the pain I’m feeling needs to be felt, the mourning I’m feeling needs to be given respect. After all, the whiff of societal collapse isn’t your average stumbling block.
Could it be that actually allowing ourselves to feel what might be lost is necessary for us to push ahead with intent. So only then I can move on. Could it be that we too often attribute resilience to what is really compartmentalization. You know the drill. You experience or hear or feel something that you don’t want to really deal with so you put it in a mental box and shut the lid tight. But eventually thoughts and emotions seep out and you have to deal with them or kaboom, the whole Pandora thing. Although maybe not. My mother was a champ at denial and compartmentalization. They were her companions to a life that seemed to be filled with laughter.
So this week I’m taking the time to let myself feel like a smushed ball of sad. I don’t drink wine so Popcorn has been my trusty friend. Did you know that crunchy snacks inhibit the flood of cortisol in our bodies which is why we crave them when anxious? Isn’t that convenient? I’ll be resilient next week. And the week after. And so on. Tell me, are you feeling it too?
Upcoming Events
Sunday, Nov 6 - Afghan Friendsgiving for Miry’s List
5:30 pm at Lemon Poppy Kitchen
Join me and New Arrival Aqila Asghary for a delicious feast
Saturday, Nov 12 - In Conversation with Nigella Lawson
7:30pm at The Granada Theater in Santa Barbara
Saturday, Nov 26 - In Conversation with Nigella Lawson
7:30pm at The Barclay Theater in Irvine
Just Finished Reading
Solito by poet Javier Zamora is an extraordinary account of his solo migratory journey from El Salvador to the US to reunite with his parents. In an attempt to come to terms with the trauma of the journey Zamora wrote the memoir from the point of view of his nine year old self. It puts in stark relief what people are willing to go through to leave everything they know behind and face untold obstacles to have greater opportunity.
Listen
Last week’s Good Food was unusual. It centered on one subject, MASA.
From Maíz to Comal.
Oh yes, I am absolutely 100% feeling it too! Also, I used to love my visits to the Angeli cafe. I worked nearby, for a time, and I had many a fabulous meal there. <3
I think it would be worrisome these days not to feel what you are feeling. It's a dreadful time, and we feel less than resilient because it's a reasonable reaction. Absolutely do not feel like that tomato, just growing and being no matter what's around it. Thanks for speaking it out loud.