I’m in bed skim reading tabs on organic gardening, something I’ve been meaning to take up in my spare time. My psychologist tells me that working in the garden widens the heart, teaches you stillness and patience. Two things that I feel I need now more than ever. I’ve been a bubbling mess of energy these last couple of weeks, too intuitive, too restless.
Another act of slowness I miss dearly is cooking. Cooking for myself or for my family or for others. Where food is at the heart of a gathering. The simple act of coming together and being mindful in the moment, taking everyone and everything in. It’s the sacred in the mundane, as though our lives are worth curating, no, is worth curating. And it’s so, so, so important to do so simply and sustainably.
I’ve been visiting my local farmers markets and talking to sellers, asking them about their yields this time of the season. Whether the pumpkins I’ve placed in my brown linen tote would prefer to be turned into a soup or perhaps honey roasted with pine-nuts. I’m also slowly getting over my aversion to handling different kinds of meats and fish. Matias has South America running through his blood through and through and loves a good barbecue. (You haven’t been to a barbecue until you’ve attended a Chilean barbecue, I promise you it’s something else.)
My ma also cooks a steamed barramundi with lots of ginger, shallots and soy sauce that I’ve been wanting to learn how to cook for myself and for her. I’ve been finding myself trailing behind her more often in the kitchen these days. I’ve also found myself picking up small things from her: her superstitions, her wonder. She explains to me why she places one of our kitchen spoons into the pot when she’s cooking her meat, or why she’ll sprinkle a bit of salt on top of the rice cooker because it allows the rice to become that little bit softer. I don’t question her anymore when she does these things, it’s now so ingrained in me and how I work around a kitchen. Magic, earthly secrets only a Filipina from both sides of the island can hold.
Another thing that's been on my mind lately has been growing in general. I’ve found myself so unable to sleep some nights. I’ll sit in the corner of my bed holding my knees to my chest just trying to think about the last time my whole family had stayed under one roof for a night, thinking about where I’m heading next with my degree or how it’s been five whole years since Matias and I had started our relationship. I’m growing and there’s absolutely nothing that I can do but take it in as a wave, let myself swim gently through it.
I’m giddy and excited but overwhelmed and other times devastated with this fragile life. Where has the time gone? Where will I be next? There are so, so many things that I want to do with my life, that I’ve yet to do with my life. And I’m at this perfect age where I have this room to explore it all, where I’m not bound by responsibilities that will inevitably come in a few years, like paying for rent or being a parent. I just need to start.
For the most part, I think that I am doing alright. I described myself recently as someone who is: gathering, nesting, wandering, making and cooking. All very true, but there is so much more. I’ve been so enamoured by the art of slow-living, of living mindfully and sustainably. Where the world does not revolve around myself, a lesson I’ve learnt the hard way. I’ve been inspired by farm to table suppers and baking from the very beginning. That feeling of finishing a new book and the rush of thoughts that come from experiencing another world for a few hours. Life is so rich and so full and I just have this big need to hold on with every last part of me. Experience it all with an open heart.
Anyway, I haven’t written for my little space on the internet for a long time now because I’ve been hand-journaling a lot these days. I'll finally talk about the photograph i've attached above which probably felt very random until now. It's of my love from the other morning, sleepy and tired. It was the morning after my eldest brothers wedding where we had far too much wine and danced far too long. I think that photograph encapsulates so much of what I’ve been writing and thinking about entirely, of slow-living and the magic in the mundane. I’m living for these small moments, the beauty in the detail.
I hope you're doing well friend, I'll write again soon. x
