In moments of uncertainty, writing has always been my compass. There’s just something about scribbling judgment-free, flowing prose that enables me to better navigate the manic thing that is my mind. There, in the depths, I can begin to listen and decipher.
As some of you may know, blogging was always a means to an end for me. It was a way in which I could begin to show this silly, yet serious thing that is my heart, and become a full-time storyteller. But I also created this space to search for balance; to initiate my “Mer Movement.” And in a time of career and personal transition, it seems necessary to dust off the cobwebs and begin again.
The itch to write came to me a few weeks ago, amidst a very particular culinary juggling act. You see, immediately after being furloughed, I began to find joy in taking care of the people I love. This turned into a physical manifestation of feeding them healthy food. But, my classic type A personality didn’t want to just to make something simple. No, I needed to rise above and create what I lovingly deem as “cuisine for quarantine.” And with rational thoughts of my simple Jewish stomach aside, I decided it was time to warm our stay-at-home souls with curry.
After carrying my “Supermarket Sweep” worthy haul home, I eagerly unpacked the produce, filling a once clean kitchen island with an array of raw veggies, meat and mouth-watering spices. And here is where things went decidedly south; I made the rookie mistake of doing every aspect of this new recipe all at once. There I was, stirring, spilling and scanning, all the while thinking, “Can splashes ruin a SIM? Should I be asking Jeeves?” (I’ve decided my overall theme of quarantine is 28 going on 55. The transition from city to suburban life ain't easy folks)!
So yes, the family kitchen could only be described as spice-filled madness. And my energy must’ve been palpable, because there seemed to be an overall silent Gandalf group agreement that “none shall pass,” through those kitchen doors. As the oven beeped ready for my primed chicken, I felt a burst of food-related adrenaline surging throughout my body. While juggling a way too-close-to-curdling sauce in one hand, I stirred a pot full of squash in the other. And as small sprouts of broccoli heads colored the granite fresh green, I looked down at the pure mess of it all. And a profound sentence came to me, stilling everything, “In chaos, there is creation.”
Could there be a more beautiful thought during this horribly messy time?
So much has happened in the past few months. I’m currently trying to figure out my healthcare plan, future housing and who I am. I am deeply gutted by all that’s been lost, and the suffering that so many of my loved ones have, and currently are facing. As an empath, I feel everything so strongly. And at times I find it hard to be in my own body.
But then I see the image of broccoli remnants on the counter, and I think about all that has been created in the past few months. And all that is going to be made.
A few weeks ago, my best friend since kindergarten and I spent a whole week together. It’s the most time we’ve gotten to share in over a decade. Out of nothing came a powerhouse plan, a rocking playlist and a deliciously overstuffed snack pack (I was in charge of serious snackery). We shared laughs and cries, and of course, millions of moments that I will always remember. We saw places I’d never think of visiting in the wilderness of New York State, and I was free to speak and be heard without judgment.
In moments of empty, there are opportunities to feel filled. Difficult times will pass. You can trust me, I’m the girl who took up marathon running after a breakup. And you know what? I still lace up my shoes.
So, yes. How did my mean curry turn out? It made my dad’s coveted list of “top 5 meals we’ve had in quarantine.” It just goes to show, clutter and confusion can lead to creation. And here I am, sitting and smiling because I am writing to you.
