Ep. 14 Embracing the 'if' Adventure Muscle
Giving yourself freedom to let it all go and start anew. January vibes, but without the obvious selling points.
“There is pleasure in the pathless forest…”
-Lord Byron
There’s something to be said about getting out of your comfort zone. And I don’t just mean trying a new brand of [insert comfort product here]. I can admit I’ve been in a bit of a controlled-chaos of comfort-zoning, which let’s me think I’m flexing when it suits me. Logically I know it doesn’t work this way, because as I reflect, I can see I was holding on so tight.
If nothing changes, then nothing changes.
I love that sentence. It’s the presence of the ‘if’ that affects the condition. If you use the same format with anything else, it’s just makes you laugh. If there is no coffee, there is no coffee (which, is just unfortunate).
So, I’m talking about completely uprooting the very essence of my go-to habits and routines, and/or at least discovering if in fact they really are mine, or simply imposed upon me and I’ve graciously complied.
On January 1st my husband, our 8 month old puppy and I left San Diego at 6:10am to venture up the entire west coast to Canada with no expiration date. Well, actually, the Canadian government only gives you 6 months without a visa before… something happens. But we have no specific return date to speak of.
As we prepared for this adventure, I think I oscillated between the pure daydream of unlimited possibilities and visions of what the future could hold and the pull of tangible reality in how it could all possibly come to be. AKA: I was stressing — but, low key. Again, controlled chaos within a realm of which I was familiar.
What guided me through this period of holidays and hosting and planning and booking and prepping and listing (so many lists) was the reminder to: Let go. Let go of as much as possible. Because if you don’t empty out, there’s no space for the new to fill you up. If your metaphorical closet is packed to the brim, where the heck are you gonna hang that new pair of metaphorical pants?
Empty out as much as possible, physically, emotionally, mentally. And! Holy heck it’s so much more conscious work when you’re in the thick of it. Like actual energy shifting work that you don’t get to get a participation award for just thinking about.
When anything new happens to us, it’s going to feel unfamiliar. It should. But we have been told & sold, and bought that roundtrip ticket to comfort. Comfort as the ultimate goal. But, without using our ‘seek the unknown and be curious’ muscle, our ‘what if…’, we can become comfort-complacent. All of the sudden, that muscle atrophies and turns into fear.
Before we left, I went through every square inch of our house. Cleaning out closets, evaluating what my days are typically made up of. What stays, what goes, what comes with.
The most poignant for me was (shocker) – the kitchen. After a moment of standing in front of my spice cabinet, my heart got one of those happy glimmers. A really beautiful gratitude glimmer. Remembering why and when I purchased the obscure spices that still linger. The search for the fenugreek, the dried mango powder for samosas at the Indian store, the homemade berber spice blend that I now use on all my roasted potatoes, the ajwain seeds I need to use up, the Sichuan peppercorns for the chili oil my mom loves, the herbs de Provence from the market in Nice, the small jar of white pepper I’ve had for years and years (and years) I keep thinking I should throw away, but I never do because I use it every time I make Spinach and Artichoke dip – which is pretty much once a year. Oh, and I love white pepper in mac & cheese.
Speaking of spinach dip…
It’s my absolute favorite. It is my ultimate indulgence dip. This recipe makes for an amazing Super Bowl party dip (hosting or bringing). I would double if making for a crowd.
So, my comfort zone? My kitchen. Cooking, baking and organizing my spice cabinet. What did I bring with me to Canada? Literally none of it.
I did, however, bring my sourdough starter.
I had this whole speech prepared to present to my husband about how if the world were to end, I would be able to feed and sustain us with sourdough. Somehow our very modern and fully accommodated stays (literally, just a road trip), turned into extreme wilderness survival camping… or a possible apocalypse, I’m not entirely sure.
My logistical brain rabbit hole got real radical, real quick.
I’ve got the starter, but what if I had no flour? Could I find grain and fashion a mill to process it? First of all, where the heck am I finding grain…and let’s say I did, what are we talking here? How many bushels? What are at my disposal fire creators? Do I have matches in the car? Where am I cooking and on what? I bet I could build a really great rustic oven…
The unnecessary mental exercise reminded me of the convince and access to food and abundance around me. At home, I have 3 grocery stores within walking distance to pretty much anything I could ever need. Oh, and not to mention, like 7+ options of any given item to choose from, which ends up being more of a headache than it’s worth.
I like to think of myself as living… consciously. Not so much frugal, but I do make sure to always turn off water when I’m not using it. I always save the paper towel that has a bit of life left for the next mess. I use my green bin and only occasionally silently scold myself for not composting (yet). I love to garden and eat what we grow, and every time announce, “this is from our garden!” as we enjoy the carrots I grew for 4 months that are $2.99 in the store. I buy in bulk and reuse glass jars. I try to buy only what I can’t make. Although, I did try making red wine vinegar once from a bottle of red wine that actually just went bad. The longer it sat, even with extensive googling— I was too scared to try it so it got thrown out. I stuff the garbage bag until it’s almost too full and so heavy because I don’t want to use another plastic bag. I am an expert spatula scrapper of every last drop of every bowl, blender and container to ensure not a drop goes to waste. I save my veggie scraps to make homemade stock, which actually feels more like a luxury, rather than a conscious waste tactic.
So, why I thought I was going to get to Canada and become a different person? Gosh, if I know. I mean, I do - I wanted it, I planned it, I created it, I did it. But, now that I am in this present moment, I’m kind of laughing at myself. Laughing while remaining so, so grateful. I spend so much time in the kitchen, and I thought, well - if I don’t have spices and flours and cookbooks galore, and all the tools I typically do at my disposal - what would I use my time for? How would I adjust? Well, the thought was writing and long walks and working out a few business plans. But, I still have to eat…
Some of what was on my ‘bring list’?
My camera. Which I really hope I start becoming more friendly with and not relying on my phone.
A 20x36”(ish) paint by number I got last Christmas I’ve spent no time on.
A tube of harissa I purchased before we left that I haven’t found a recipe for. But, the tube of tomato paste somehow didn’t make the cut, I’m now questioning.
The cacio e pepe spice blend I purchased at a shop in Tuscany. I’ve got a whole evening planned around this lil guy.
My favorite long spoon from (old)Pearl River Mart in SoHo(we call spoon friend) and a tiny spatula that’s well past it’s prime but always comes in handy.
My morning pages routine (journal, daily meditation, dream cards & spiritual passage book)
It’s not so much of a regret; “why didn’t I bring the freaking mustard powder? I could have used for salad dressings. Why didn’t I at least pack the turmeric? or the cayenne?” and on, and on. It’s an observation of what’s important to me. What I value, what I use, how I operate in this world. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to to strip it all down and see what comes back, what shows up. What pangs and my heart as well as what I realize I can truly let go of that doesn’t serve me. What distracts me from the work that’s right in front of me and what is the work. To do this requires space. Space to feel, to hold it and look at it — whatever it is..
So, we’ve landed in a beautiful spot in Whistler, BC for at least the next month or so… the kitchen is laughably set up with tools and supplies. We arrived to a small plastic bottle of canola oil, salt and pepper gracing the cabinets. There is no measuring spoons to speak for baking measurements, no steamer for broccoli, no cookie sheet for reheating pizza slices or actual cookies. No salad spinner for lettuces - which are shockingly expensive in Canada. I’m excited and curious. Among other things…
With the complete devastation from the fires in LA that have torn peoples lives apart, I’m still working through the feelings that accompany the gift that I have been able to choose what to leave behind, release and let go. I still have a home I can go back to. So many had no choice, no time, no other option. They didn’t have the option to decide IF they wanted to take their favorite spices, or cookbooks with notes in the margin, or pieces of themselves that make up their days. In the face of reality that everything that ‘home’ meant to them might be gone, I can’t image what ‘if’s’ could look like. That this simple exercise of ‘what if’ doesn’t fit the same way into their day. When there are a lot of feelings to process, there’s no easy or clear way to move on. The scary part is having to sit in the now with all of it, clearing the ash before you can move forward. I think that no matter what life throws at us, by choice, through circumstance or random act of the universe - there’s a time and place for every phase of transition and there is no rush, place to get to or journey to complete. There is only the here & now. So I guess, what I’d like to say is, I do think there’s a collective grief going on and we all can give ourselves a huge permission slip to feel it. However we need, for as long as we need — until perhaps there’s a bit of light behind the ‘what if’s…’ that spring.
So yeah, that.
Stay tuned for more fun from the adventure of ‘if’s’ from Canada.
Cheers, Happy New Year & all my love,
Justine xo
