Pasta-making Faith

How to stay hopeful despite not succeeding and feeling unappreciated

If you are not looking for a self-help read, coming back next week is okay.

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways - sang Ed Sheeran. So is true for everything, really. Sometimes, when nothing makes sense, a good thing happens.

Today I woke up to an Instagram post from Isabela - a friend posted her birthday resolutions and tagged me, thanking me for a conversation we had last week, after over 20 years of barely talking to each other. I was just happy to catch up, you know? Not a favor, not a good deed, which made this very public thank-you feel even more amazing. It was unexpected and uncalled for.

She is the first person I have ever considered my best friend, meaning, my original memories of what it means to talk to someone else for hours nonstop during lunch break. Our friendship is also my earliest recollection of admiring someone's little traits to the point where I just had to try to dress alike, restocking my wardrobe with a now-extinct brand called TKTS. I even remember working hard to copy her handwriting which had the most adorable way of closing the Os clockwise when it was the last letter in a word. Getting back in touch just makes me smile.

The funny thing is that this week, I realized that while I did have some unexpected serendipitous encounters, the major projects into which I poured my time and soul were completely disregarded.

After practicing Judaism for 5 years I am finally taking the leap to convert: I took two 18-week courses, in person and online, talked to one million people (metaphorically), read the entire bible (not metaphorically) and also became particularly knowledgable about all the quirks, do's, and don'ts. No to eating pigs, OK to eating giraffes if done correctly. No to stealing, OK to hearing the sound of the stolen horn-like instrument. I met with a Rabbi today, looking forward to information about my Jew-graduation ceremony, and instead, I got sympathetic “I think you might be ready to begin the application process”, disheartening me to know that I wasn't even enrolled in the official curriculum.

I washed and dried my favorite socks just to end up stepping on the wet bathroom floor one minute before having to leave the house. I changed pairs, just to also get them wet, now by the rain, envisioning that all of this will be worth a special chai latte. Simply to get a barista to make my drink so sweet it attracted insects even inside a closed space. When the little things that are supposed to make us feel better to disappoint us, it can be as discouraging as large failures if we fall into the incorrect impression that succeeding with small things is a prerequisite to controlling larger outcomes, while in reality, there is no correlation in between the two.

This sunk in when a project I have worked on every day for the past three years got put on hold before ever seeing the light of day.

Is it a coincidence that at the time when we care the most, we are most likely to be disappointed? I do not subscribe to Mark Manson's subtle art of not giving a fuck theory. I just can't let myself believe that intention and results are inversely proportional, even though my current data could be interpreted this way.

I am a person of deep intention. When I failed 5 subjects in my Senior year of High School, I very much chose to do so to finally be able to brag about bad grades. When it sucked to study during summer break and I accepted the good student in me, I wanted to make it to the Dean's list. When I finally made it many years later, I worked my ass off for it and very much expected to be on that list again. Caring deeply is such an innate characteristic of myself, it has fueled me through all my achievements.

Perhaps, the issue is my expectations. A dear investor once explained to me his meaning of happiness: exceeding expectations. By this token, having low expectations is the key to feeling fulfilled, which I think brings us back to not giving a fudge or not putting energy into materializing solutions, which also breaks my heart. If the key to being content is not expecting people I love to give me presents, not to buy me surprise birthday cakes, and, worse, to expect things that I work so hard for not to work out, what's there to look forward to?

What I am using to cope with my personal generalized nonsuccess is what I am calling pasta-making faith. When you put a large pot of water as salty as the sea to boil it takes a while to finally see the bubbles. One degree hotter, nothing. Eighty degrees more, nothing. In spite of that, I don't turn off the stove and look for another alternative, such as making pasta in a kettle. Even at the highest flame, the temperature increase is completely imperceptible until the point of ebullition is reached: the one-millionth of a degree change that makes all the difference. Suddenly! There's an instant transition from still simmering to violent foaming out onto the stove, knocking off the lid.

It’s faith that the water will come to a boil if things just keep going for a while. I feel very much like a scalding pot of water that just needs to grab onto the hope that the bubbles will eventually appear. Just those close enough to feel the warmth radiating from the metal can really tell how close we are. I am comforted by Hollywood saying that an overnight success takes 10 years in the making.

What seems like a surprise, like Isabela's post, was actually on the stovetop for over 20 years, even if we didn't talk for most of it. Other pans and soups, slightly bigger, somewhat smaller, are also there, cooking, in mysterious ways.

Hold on.

We are almost there.

PS. Fashion editorials are to be resumed next week. Thank you for reading this off-topic post till the end. When I started Mind of Gabriela, the description was "My therapist recommended I take my (fashion) hobbies more seriously". Writing has been undeniably therapeutic and I am extremely grateful for your love and comments. Please know I appreciate you tremendously.