Cauliflower, heat, and trouble around the corner
The other day, I was roasting cauliflower at a high temperature and I put a baking dish into the oven at the same time to warm up to put the veg into once it was done. Big mistake. I pulled it out to fill it with the roasted cauliflower and an almighty CRACKing noise announced the end of that nice white baking dish. Damn! I knew better than to take that risk.
Some risks are worth taking, others not so much. The trick is to know the difference when you’re facing that moment of decision-making: To forge ahead and plunge into the darkness or to slow down until the sun comes up? To jump on board the unexpected option that comes your way or to be patient and wait for the one you had planned for? And so on.
Of course, we don’t always know it’s a risk we’re facing. Sometimes it’s simply what’s in front of us and naivety gets us through it. At least it did me, back in the late ‘70s. I was not yet 18, when I spent about three months in Paris, staying with friends of friends, speaking French, visiting museums and galleries, wandering the streets, and whiling away the time in cafes. All on my own. I was an innocent with no idea that trouble might exist around the corner. I simply went about my explorations and thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Life is full of open doors and enticing views through windows we hadn’t planned on even walking by. But, how do we decide when it’s worth the risk of looking and then leaping? I think much of the decision rests on how well we know ourself, and how accurately we have read the situation and, thus, the risk we are considering. Also, how confident we are about being able to recover from a wrong decision.
When I was roasting that cauliflower, I wasn’t thinking. I knew better and I did it anyway, hoping for the best. There was no recovery from that almighty CRACKing sound. In Paris, I operated with my mother’s parting advice ringing in my ears: ‘Enjoy yourself, darling,’ she said. ‘Try everything! The only things I’ve regretted in life are those I haven’t done.’ And so I did, my youthful confidence, naïveté, and likely a touch of luck, too, keeping me safe.
Those months of solo exploration in the City of Lights were formative for me, both culturally and psychologically. I have no regrets, but, today, older and wiser, I know that I am hesitant to set forth on a similar solo adventure. I know too much about those risks around the corner. I’ll not put an empty dish into a very hot oven again, but I’ll continue to risk myself with words on a page that I send out into the world.
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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.
Amanda, I also did a solo trip to Europe when I was 19 in 1985 for 2 months that was transformative. It was my first trip alone outside of North America. I naively wandered through countries and had to rely on the kindness of strangers when I got in trouble.
ReplyDeleteBut that European youth hostel/Eurail/Britrail adventure was the catalyst that ignited my lifelong desire to travel. My job at Environment Canada required me to travel solo 95% of the time, and I would not have been comfortable to do so without that first trip.
And yes, I am older and wiser, but have no fear about going out solo again when the pandemic wanes and it's safe to explore the world.
Hope you find a way to do so, as well.
Grace: Your trip sounds wonderful. As for me and solo travel, never say. never. Who knows where the future might find me!
DeleteI second you putting words on the page and sending it into the world 100%. I’m always happy to read them, Amanda.
ReplyDeleteTravelling solo ( I began only in 2000 ) always came from an intense desire and brought a great satisfaction . My inner voice seems to help me avoid dangerous situations and, when needed, I always find people ready to help me.