The world around is no longer a fantastic place to live in. There are threats of war, the insecurities of danger, and the question of whether we are moving in the right direction, as humankind. There exists also, our problems, that mare what could have been a great day; those little (and bigger) things that get you feeling down in the dumps. At times like these, when the peace is disrupted, and my insides feel unsettled, I resort to 'starting fresh', with whatever it takes to do that. And more often than not, even if the results are not spectacular, it helps me get a new perspective of why we must always strive to find our own order in the chaos. Here is an account of such a day, which later made myself ask the big question - did that ripened avocado from my fruit basket, just turn things around for me?
My day was not going well on any account. There was some minor irritation on my mind, which turned into a major crisis, thanks to my capabilities to over-think. I was stuck in a rut and wanted to get out of it, despite my inner whining princess wanting to sink even lower. I had some good number of hours ahead, to either crawl into bed and feel sorry for myself (might be effective, for all you know), or to find my peace, by doing something spectacular. Since I had already spent a while in bed earlier, I felt that it was time now to get myself moving on with life, and to stop sulking about the problem, the cause of which , I could not even remember by then. And as with all new beginnings, I had a strange conviction that my new-found passion for cooking would be the solution. Only time would tell if such convictions could deceive.
So I marched off into the kitchen, with my husband tagging along to help me in this journey of self revamp. I tried to recollect if he was the reason for the chaos in the first place, but I was too taken up by his sweet gesture, to worry about it. I went about the process, like a warrior at her best. Nothing but stoic silence ensued from my lips, as I took out ingredients from the fridge. I was going to make a simple salad, but it required chopping and cutting up of almost everything I had in stock, which did nothing to ease my steam. I was getting myself worked up into another frenzy of ire, and had to remind myself why I was doing this in the first place. I continued my quest and concentrated on making the salad dressing with aplomb, my new experiment with avocado. I was unsure if it would taste great, but went about throwing everything required into the electric mixer. I was going to give it a swirl, and then just top it over the lettuce and tomatoes and cucumbers, all of which I had cut by then, with a little help.
I started with the avocado scooped in, a part of it too raw for my liking. I did not give this concern much thought though, as I felt it would be okay when mixed with the super-ripe parts in the blender. I added about three large tablespoons of olive oil, followed by a little balsamic vinegar (maybe two teaspoons). I took pride in cutting the oranges and the large lemon by half, preserving the rest in containers. I added into the blender, the juice from half of each, wondering all along, if this would turn out alright after all. Three teaspoons of water was also added, as called for in the recipe, and a good sprinkle of salt. And for my own twist to the tale, I added some oregano and a dash of brown sugar, just to bring out the flavour. You see, the rebel in me was strong, and there was no way she would go by the recipe book, without a move to make a point. And that was it, all ready to be blended. I hoped yet again that it would turn out great, since this was my pick-me-up that I was looking forward to. I knew deep inside that if things went downhill, it would not help me one bit. And who knows what a scorned woman is capable of doing!
Well, surprise, surprise! And a sigh of relief. The fort was not going to crumble, after all. Though this did nothing to elevate my mood levels, it helped in not sinking even further, which is a good step for times like these. The dressing tasted good enough to eat straight out of the blender, though I did not give it the appreciation it deserved. I was not in the right frame of mind for celebration, and accepted the result with quiet dignity. Perhaps even a heightened sense of internal victory that this success was fuelled by the embers of war cry. With a straight face, I poured it over the ingredients in the bowl, coating it well. By the time I sprinkled the salt on, I had more flare to my moves, and I was invested in the game. I could feel a spark of satisfaction, which helped me keep my head high. The self-praise that was ringing in my head by then, was easing the pain.
Often a high is followed by a low, and I knew inside that that was bound to happen. The bowl in front of me looked great, but I had pangs of self doubt and esteem dips in the next few minutes, when I realised that I could not see any of the expected results on my mood. Why was it so hard to feel happy? I slouched over to the sofa to watch something on TV, that would accompany this fantastic salad. I wanted to believe that I was better off than when I started, and this faith kept me going at newer attempts towards the goal. With my stomach full of the good stuff, I tried my hand at rolling out the yoga mat (in a newer room this time to shake things up a bit from the usual) and trying to spend some time in deep silence. This did not work either, but may have had an effect at a larger level, which I would realise only on retrospection. I had moments of slight elation whenever I thought of the salad dressing, but I did not dwell on it too much since I was done with that and was trying newer things.
Time passed, and the day moved on. I may have ended back in bed, under the covers for solace, but accepted it as part of the process. And with more time passing by, I felt much better, as was expected. I experienced the healing effect of the passing seconds, and began to believe in the adage much more. After a couple of such hours, and a combination of the efforts in the past few, that consisted of more peaks than dips, the day was looking brighter (despite the setting sun). I then got busy with the things that needed to be done, because the clock obviously does not stop to wait for those who mope around. And by night time, I was my usual self after the distraction. I decided it was time to introspect, and see what I had gotten wrong. Along this journey, I found myself being constantly surprised at how my efforts were not futile, a realisation which got me thinking deeper about efforts and results, and how hard work always pays off. Looking back, I realised how time was effectively put to use by creating and nurturing, versus just waiting for magic to happen on its own. I knew that the process could improve, but it was indeed the first few hard steps that resulted in this success.
I tried to identify that one component that was most effective in this process. Time and again, my mind drifted back to peeling the avocado, cutting it into smaller manageable bits and adding to the blender. My sensory nerves seemed to come alive as I recollected tasting the first bit, with trepidation and doubt, only to be replaced by pleasant happiness. It was all boiling down to one thing, which was probably responsible for my success with this strife. The joy in seeing the mashed bits being turned into a smooth paste was not hard to hide as I thought back. I was a little taken aback by this revelation. Would all our problems be solved if we just spent time in creating newer textures and tastes from the things around us? Would the world actually find its purpose and peace, if all of us were to give this a shot? Perhaps that was taking it too far, but I knew in my heart that I had the avocado to thank, for saving this particular day; and though I am in no hurry to put this theory to test again, I have a deeper intuition that tells me that this is the answer to all our problems - we each need to find our own ' avocados' to guide us out of the pit, and into the light!
My attempts resulted in some good moments in the kitchen, if not anything else, and left me with a good story to tell. Thus, I had no regrets, if not a sense of achievement that I was on the path of purposeful self-discovery.
Goes without saying that when I woke up the next day, I was filled with increased optimism, and went back to the fridge to pass on my gratitude to the remaining bit of avocado that was left in there after the tryst with it the previous day. I went sunny-side up, all the way, with cheerful avocado on toast topped with sriracha sauce, as a form of tribute to the healing and love!
