soul quests and kitchen tangents

bruise, bleed, burn. simmer for a bit longer if you want. then add spices, and throw in some off-beat humour, a bunch of variables and cook up a new flavour. you'll be happy you did.

(dhana+jeeru)*hot pan=love / (integrity+respect)*conflict=love

UPDATE: if you read the first version of this, the math wasn’t mathing. i think it does now. but if not, please help a girl a out.

self abandonment and it’s opposite (or it’s partner?)

this morning while journalling i uncovered for myself that not self-abandoning is a very active sensorial process. it activates all the cells and delivers the self to the center of it’s reality - as a way to stay in the self.

so much focus on not self-abandoning made me consider the clunky mechanics of the language-ing of this and inquire as to why it does not taste like my slow cooked lamb roast with cabbage - caramelised and falling off the bone.

as a writer i have yet to generate a word that encapsulates this idea into an effervescent tablet, so like a lazy thinker i searched the interwebs for help: ‘opposite of self-abandonment what is.’

results were as follows: self-care / self-choosing / self-centering / self-accompaniment /self-recovery / self-repair / self-trust / self-friendship, etc. etc.

other offerings for self-abandonment came up: self-neglect / self-destruct / self-aversion / self-avoidant, etc. etc.

if i am being honest with myself (which i am, more and more these days) i have not connected these as being two sides of the same coin: ‘self-abandonment’ vs ‘self-care’. and if i am being honest with you (which i am, more and more these days) self-care as a concept just doesn’t enliven me, i do not care for it. it tastes of boiled cabbage and no, we always roast vegetables in this house.

marketing trends, 'content’ creators and algorithms diluted the idea of what it meant for me. and as a soon-to-be-41-year-old-tired-and-hungry-human, unpacking capitalism and the commodification of self-care was not on my to-do-list for today. don’t get too excited, this is still going to be a weird ride. so let’s all promise each other to nap when this is all done and dusted.

but first, let’s do some inept math.

TANGENT: must-eat yesterday’s dinner before nap - mushrooms sauteed in extra-virgin olive oil, sliced garlic, lemon juice, linguine and parmesan. YUM.

all hail the math is coming

by now you must be waiting eagerly on the edge of your juicy tush for me to answer these very complex math questions (which in being honest, more and more these days), my 7-year old niece could do in a nanosecond).

let’s try, shall we? please remember the stuff below, you will need it later in the piece.

if we say x = self-abandoning,

then -x = not self abandoning.

and if we say y = ? (some yet unworded concept that is x in an alternate universe - related, but belonging to a category of words that do not include ‘abandon’ in them).

then q = the quest from x to y.

okay fine, this is more arithmetic in symbolic form than proper mathematics. but here we are in full mediocre glory.

so:

1. what does x mean to me?

2. when i am doing x, what am i doing / not doing?

3. when i am not doing x, what am i doing / not doing?

4. what does y mean to me?

5. how do i know i am at y?

so, in sum (cue excel sheet lovers) if x is self-abandonment and y is the alternate of that (a relative but from a different background), then q is the branch-stomping body-stretching knee-scraping creek-swimming quests along the way.

alright class, let’s get started with my math-ish adventures.

what does x mean to me?

x = disregard for me and my center = me being a tail wagging puppy waiting to resolve a conflict by beginning from the other person’s perspective = me centering them inside myself = too much annoying emphasis on how something has landed for someone else, rather than how it has landed for me.

when i am doing x, what am i doing?

in my state of x, i am a fresh-faced teenager continuing a friendship with an ex-friend* who orchestrated a massive bullying expedition towards me in high school. i am lapping up an apology of: ‘i’ll always be there for you, even when no one else is’ while wondering, ‘but where were you, when no one else was?’

in my state of x, i am wheeling a large suitcase with broken wheels labelled ‘carrying all my deficits, as taught by others’ up the stairs of a london subway because 'ex-friend + everyone else’ had a bunch of missives about who i was. mostly, when i am in x, i accept that they were ‘right’.

and what about me, you ask?

what me? i ask.

when i am not doing x, what am i doing?

i am a slightly-less-than-fresh-faced middle aged aunty responding in a professional relationship projecting accusations of disrespect on me with this: ‘no, that’s not true, have i been coming to see you for three months because i disrespect you?’ quite the opposite in fact but to circumcise this long story, much was expressed and directed at me, which really was none of my business.

but the part that is important for us here is that i did my best to hold my center. you’ll be proud papa, not a single apology or shrinkage of self. no fingers on my lady hands were lifted do the work of lowering their heat. but god, was it uncomfortable being inside the biryani pot. somehow, alhamdulillah, i settled into a sense of of my own integrity and came to a centered resolve within myself and the rest is smooth steaming.

just joking, this whole piece was birthed in that moment.

what does y mean to me?

in processing the residue of my latest rendezvous with conflict, i am learning that for me, y is an amalgamation of integrity and respect in ways that are visceral and tailored to my palette.

i like my integrity to linger like freshly roasted spices, sensorial and whole.

i like my respect like i like my genmaicha, a brewed depth with a hint of bitter, so i can taste it above the empty sugars.

how do i know i am at y?

in brief:

me in a state of y = ‘letting the soft animal of my body, love what it loves’** + holding my cushy center without apologising and shrink wrapping myself like yesterday’s leftover falafels (so dehydrated) + not doing the other person’s work to lower the heat + being aware of the other person’s humanness too (but as a garnish, not an over powering masala).

resulting conclusions

generative inquiry and process-oriented flows tickle me. giggle.

respect and integrity are my babies who are outgrowing their toddler stage. wobbly, but joyous.

if you are wondering what happened to q, then well, for starters you need to read between the lines, or keep coming back here for more of my arithmetic quests examining love and loss with all sorts of irrelevant food tangents.

as for me, i am taking ‘my soft animal body’** to nap.

genmaicha for every q

*over the years i drifted away, but i only really ended this relationship recently. 20 years later than it needed to be done. say mashallah and send congratulatory flowers asap. preferably hydrangeas.

**thank you mary oliver.