There are simple but strong joys
TLDR; I’ve been feeling like I lost my joy a while ago and I’ve been given the perfect opportunity to reintroduce it into my life.
My 2 month sabbatical coincided almost exactly with Singapore’s lockdown (Circuit Breaker, CB for short). The day after I got out of my 14 day stay at home notice from touching down at home, Singapore’s lights dimmed, streets were empty and everyone fled online. Looking back, perhaps this isn’t that much of a coincidence as the only reason I had my 2 month sabbatical was because of the pandemic.
On the flight back home I was filled with unbridled enthusiasm. Loads of ideas flooded me with how I should spend my 2 months (perhaps dragon boating?? Haha jk… unless…?). I didn’t know that Singapore was going to go into a lockdown, and that it would be extended, and that I’d be starting work whilst still in lockdown. In hindsight (which is always 2020), I am thankful because it made me work on myself by finding and growing the small joys I still had.
In many ways, my sabbatical was my own personal circuit breaker from my life. It shook me out of my old habits, old mindsets and allowed for new ones to form.
I’ve been cooking for my family of 6 for the past 3 weeks, embarking on a gastronomical experience that helped me to rekindle my joy.
A series of moving parts
Unless it’s a one-pot recipe, you’re going to have a series of moving parts. While you’re frying the carrots, you’re mixing the sauce that you’re going to dunk it in later.
Looking back, my sabbatical has been a series of moving parts. I’ve taken breaks from a book I started to start an online course, and finally connected the vague dots through a conversation with a friend through a book club (on a different book altogether). Just like cooking, I didn’t turn off the stove, I merely had several thoughts going on the back of my mind and even though I wasn’t in the act (of reading the book).
I was given the time and mental space to make these connections freely. Being able to make some sense of everything that I was learning, absorbing and applying was step 1 in helping me regain some joy.
Sometimes you get hurt and it’s okay to sulk, but your tofu is going to burn
The dish of the day was Claypot Tofu. Step 1, deep fry the tofu. Step 2, fry everything else and add the sauce. Step 3, combine and serve. I failed at Step 1. I had let the oil get too hot (An allegory, if you will, for stress) and the moment I let the first tofu ‘plop’ into oil, it started spitting everywhere. I got burned. The sharp pain immediately triggered anger as a response. Even after running cold water over it and icing the burn, I was still left with a lingering pain and a horrible mood. I wanted to sit and sulk but I realised the tofu was still in the too-hot oil and it was going to burn.
Yea, I let it burn and mangled up the rest of the dish (or at least, to me I did. My family didn’t notice and still cleaned up the bowl).
Life is a big, beautiful, mess. I had let it get too stressful, and I sulked when it finally burned me.
This sabbatical is me metaphorically fishing that tofu out of the hot oil. I fish by sleeping, ASMR videos, video calls, books, working out and of course, cooking. That tofu is safe from the hot oil for now.
“Patience, my dear, I’m not ready yet”, my shrimp cake whispered to me
You know how the first pancake is always a mistake? I did my first batch of shrimp cakes and they were breaking, crumbling apart. I had flipped them after dipping them in oil for 5 seconds.
We’re all beings that want instant gratification. I did a day of Chloe Ting’s “2-week challenge” and wondered why my abs weren’t showing. 6 weeks from finishing that challenge and I’m still nowhere near the body I want even though I’ve been working out everyday. My shrimp cake is still cooking, and that’s okay. I’m enjoying the process a lot more than I ever thought I would. It’s the small joys.
If you had asked me to move back to Singapore a year ago I would’ve said no. It had been brewing on my mind, but hindsight (again) proves that I was building up memories and friendships that would be able to withstand long distance. If you’re in a rut like I was, you might not be ready. But in a split second you have to be — within a week, I was suddenly uprooting myself from London to Singapore, lest the shrimp cake overcooks and burns.
It’s okay to be scared of flour
I don’t know what it is about baking — perhaps being unfamiliar with an oven, having to sit and wait for something to become yummy, or the ease with which one can mess something up and the mess is so hard to correct. Perhaps it is all of those reasons.
I have so many fears (physical, mental, emotional) that some days I’m surprised at how I’m still functioning. But life is about co-existing with our fears, living at the edges of our comfort zones and expanding our world. Feel the fear and do it anyway.
Trying new things this sabbatical has given me so much joy. I’m able to play old piano pieces without any pressure to perfect it, but simply because I enjoy the tune. I bake not for perfection but because I want to try something new. I try new recipes because they’re exciting. I don’t know if anything will come of it but it gives me joy.
Sometimes you fail, but it’s good to have a family that will eat anything that you put in front of them, act like they enjoy it and make you feel better even after you’ve had a crazy 2 hours in the kitchen. Find yourself that family, and embrace them.
If you’ve read this far, thank you for putting up with my sub-par cooking references. I encourage you to do things that will give you joy, for the sake of it. Draw, because you want to. Write, because you want to make sense of the dialogue in your head. Play the piano, garden, dance, because you want to. Many are not as privileged as I am to have the comfort of a family, a home to come back to rent-free, or even the ability to take time off work. But you can strive to and plant small amounts of joy in your day. It will grow.
“There are simple but strong joys. Rejoice in others’ rejoicing. To live is still possible!”
