For someone who grew up and spent most of his formative years being woefully out of touch with any form of creative expression. It’s been a complex and long journey finding a space for oneself where one can feel closer to one’s true authentic self? Like a space to express oneself creatively to re-connect with the present moment without any judgments? I know, I know that self is not a fixed thing set in stone and instead it’s something that’s ever-changing, transient, and most probably an illusion created by a series of thoughts? Still the feeling that I experience in the kitchen, and am trying to describe here is maybe one of being at peace with the sense of the self. Though the word “self” itself seems paradoxical to me in some manner. Majority of us feel more deeply in touch with this sense of self only when the concept of self dissolves to some degree? It somehow feels contradictory, but maybe it tells something about the nature of human experience (regarding which I know very little about) that experiences that make us realise we are not at the centre of everything makes us feel more centred about our existence as well?
I guess that’s what kitchen means to me, a place where the self defined by the ego is no longer at the forefront of the conscious experience, and the sensory experience of the present comes to life. There are days when the sensations, tastes, and aromas appearing in the kitchen almost feel like a gust of wind taking away the dark and heavy clouds occupying the headspace. It always fascinates me how a physical space can turn into a sanctuary of solace, by merely being an inanimate enclosure or space carving designed to offer functional support for creating something.
There have been many instances where I have felt that the ground has been swept from under my feet, but just stepping into the kitchen lets me relax with that feeling and accept it rather than resist or fight it. Since the time I have started cooking somewhat seriously, it has almost seemed like a missing piece of the puzzle in trying to keep the existential void at bay. And the space where I engage in that act naturally takes the form of a significant anchor. I think for me the kitchen can be exclusively designated as a getting-back-in-touch-with-the-present-moment zone. I know in some manner it’s still me holding onto a space to deal with the inescapable uncertainties of life, and in an ideal scenario one might strive to be enlightened enough so that one can just relax with the sufferings and groundlessness of living without actively looking for an enclosure of brick and mortar to act as an anchor to feel steady. Until then, I will keep going back into my kitchen to cook sometimes astounding, most times somewhat average, and many a times a complete failure of a meal to reclaim some sense of security amidst the chaos and in the process maybe eventually make peace with my finitude.