More than December 31 or January 1 or the spring Solstice, it’s the month of May that kicks my literal arse on the YOLO front (<a sentence I never thought I’d write). Throw into the equation that I’m turning 30 in 25 or something days, and i’m mentally clambering to sign up for every challenge, run every marathon and make my life the minimalist dream of Internet fame. Last one is a joke. I can’t imagine a life without small clutter piles….
It’s been a strange, strange week in these parts. I see everybody getting into the Holiday mood, with freshly chopped Christmas trees and fairy lights (YES!) but we’re not quite there yet. We’ve got a tree of our own only once and while it makes the house look 100% cozier than normal, I gather it’s all in my head. We’re not going to be in India for Christmas, but we do have almost similar weather plans. My mind is still in Goa though and I’m not sure that will ever change. I don’t want it to. It’s not a flaw.
This past week has also strengthened the part of me that’s been working on the meaning of empathy. Understanding the feelings of other + walking a mile in their shoes + not being an asshole. Deep, right? When I first moved here, I found it strange how complete strangers asked me: “How are you?” I was fine, of course. But not always. They were doing their job but I was secretly getting tired of answering. I actually wanted to know how they were. Everybody walks around, carrying burdens that they wish they could share. Life is not easy. When your cat dies, you can’t take a bloody sick day. If your cat dies though, I’d like to tell you I know how that feels. Maybe I could do it with a look or by actually giving you a few more seconds of my time to tell you that it will be okay, that it’s all just a moment in the grand plot, that it feels like forever and it will get better. So much cliche. I’d pack it all in. I want you to know I don’t walk around without analysing the process of existence. It beats within me. Yesterday I wished I spent two more seconds with the man I saw holding up a “need help” sign. He told me he liked the painting I was holding and I thought “what a fucking idiot I am”. He needs more than I can ever help with and what did I do all day? Justified to myself that this (print of a) painting was worth it. It was worth it. It was beautiful. I wish art could save us all. I wish everybody had that opportunity to be saved.
That’s all it takes really- one chance. Sadly, empathy is something that severely lacking. We make excuses like “the begging mafia owns all the kids”, rather than just talking to them. Same with the people who can’t afford to eat in America. I sometimes can’t justify why I blog about food. I’m not an extravagant person an I find amazing amount of comfort in potatoes. The fact is, not everybody can afford the same choices as I do. I empathise with that. I don’t see this blog change into a thrifty one just because I do. What I do hope is that I can talk to more people and talk to people about food. I’ve had a lot of conversations with people in Seattle lately. People in the middle of the most difficult part of their lives and little chance to change the course of it all. I don’t live it but I get it. I can talk to you and learn your story. Stories never leave you.
I read something recently that said charity is selfish. That we do it more for our own karma (promounced “karm“) than for another. It completely rejects the theory of empathy. Charity has no guarantee. Humanitarian workers know this first hand. They do it anyway and have their hearts broken more each time, but for that one moment. This season of giving, I’m counting my joys. I’m listening more already and asking you about you because I want to know. I’m sprinkling more gratitude on each meal I share and thanking my family for the choices they let us have.
Have a blessed season.
The recipe for these pear and dark chocolate scones can be found on Smitten Kitchen. I’ve linked them and just changed their original name apparently. I found that I needed to use more flour than what the recipe called for. This could be due to the pears’ being slightly more ripe than what Deb used. I didn’t measure the amount of extra flour I used. I just kept throwing more over until the dough took shape and was easy to cut through after being shaped. The scones were mixed (never over-mixed) completely by hand. I need to remake them to see what I can do differently 🙂
The crème fraîche recipe can be found on The Vanilla Bean Blog. The photos on Sarah’s blog are always my favourite.
Happy Sunday. Xo.