Gently rock the bulb against the cutting board. Pull a clove through the perfectly purple-and-white skin. Give it a good whack with the flat of a knife. Peel back the sticky shell. Trim the root. Rock your knife through the firm, fragrant flesh until the aroma tickles your nose. Mince, slice, dice, macerate. Gather the goodness, eagerly awaiting its upcoming role. Having touched nearly every cuisine around the globe, the possibilities for this humble allium are endless; a perfect place to lose oneself.
In the wake of the election just now three weeks ago, there are too many overwhelming realities on the horizon that threaten nearly everything I hold dear. To avoid a complete and total shutdown, I’ve found a place where things make sense, at least a little bit: humble acts for the soul. Hug loved ones. Water the plants. Make and teach music. Chop garlic. Perhaps by leaning into things like this, we escape just enough of reality to store energy – much like the squirrels in our yard preparing for winter – to hold strong and organize come next year. I’m usually one to believe that light shines brighter in darkness, but it seems harder this time: we knew what was on the menu, it poisoned us last time. And more than half of us ordered it again, on purpose.
I suppose it’s the curse of idealism: my inability to let things go, my obsession with decency, and expecting humans to have some version of integrity baked into their being. On one hand being an idealist – even if adjacent to its uglier sibling perfectionism – can bring about positivity, inspiration, and hope. On the other, it can be a road of disappointment, replete with potholes of what could and should be. On a micro level, I see it in colleagues who put self interest above art, administrators who put fame and wealth above fairness, and on the macro, world leaders who govern with fear and those in public eye for whom truth is optional. It’s just too hard to know that humans could and should do better, and often we just don’t – especially in a moment like this, in a nation that has such enormous resource, wealth, and potential…
Yes, there are monumental challenges that are wrapped up in a nation that was stolen from its original inhabitants and then comprised of non-natives who came from every corner of the world, then molded into a Judeo-Christian construct. Yes, we have to grapple with the fallout of late-stage capitalism which extends to “the price at the pump” (as the GOP loves to say) to the insurmountable costs of housing, college, and healthcare. Yes, our minority communities are marginalized in one breath and then used in celebration when it suits the argument at hand. Yes, we once had admirable rights for women, yet that is now in retrograde. Our political landscape has been broken for generations, hanging on to an archaic electoral college, gerrymandering local voting districts, creating a binary and unbalanced Supreme Court, and making it impossible for third- and fourth parties to emerge. We have much to reflect, repent, and though we have the capacity to work toward action that authentically make things better, it just crushes me that we rarely do.
I’m not blameless either: my retirement account is tied up in the stock market, I buy clothes made by laborers overseas who are undoubtedly underpaid and likely mistreated; I’m ignorant about so many cultures and identities, prepare food that comes from supermarkets – often enjoying delicacies that shouldn’t be available given the climate or time of year – and give into the convenience of Amazon too often. The list goes on, but I promise to – while acknowledging my own privilege – approach these things with renewed awareness and work to do better. If only those who govern us would make that same pledge when it comes to looking after our planet, safeguarding democracy, taking care of those who are vulnerable, seeking truth, and thinking about the distribution of American wealth. If only we could remind them, we could do better.
I’m not quite sure what to do next, but now deep into a book that’s been on my list for many months now, I’ll leave us with this from Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass:
On one side of the world were people whose relationship with the living world was shaped by Skywoman, who created a garden for the well-being of all. On the other side was another woman with a garden and a tree. But for tasting its fruit, she was banished from the garden and the gates clanged shut behind her…I can only imagine the conversation between Eve and Skywoman: “Sister, you got the short end of the stick…”
And keep chopping that garlic.
Here’s a little escapist photo diary to close out the ruminations of the day:
Oh yea, and we got hitched! (Five times over the last few months, apparently ;))
