a recipe:

It stings doesn’t it? In a way that is bland and numbing, so much flavor in the punch that it stops tasting like anything. Made one too many mistakes, failed one too many times, rejected a million too many times. And for once, we’ve let the punch of it sink in.

Because we can say we tried our best but have we really? We’ve idealized the final dish, made future choices before we’ve even made it past the first step, skipped over recipe and eyeballed measurements. Intuition isn’t everything. We’ve gone and forgotten the details. The little things that make up the big picture.

Didn’t take that extra step of reading over the one-two-three’s, skipped the warm-ups and the pre-heating, simmered a little too long in dreams without action. To the point that we’ve gone and spilled the flour. This doesn’t resemble what we wanted in the slightest. A spreading mediocrity of I-tried’s and next-time’s, it numbs the tongue.

We burnt it a little in the process but the smoke’s all cleared. Yet our eyes are still watering.


we know we can do a better. That we will fail a million more times, burn a million more dishes, cry a million more times, and at the end of the day, know we can pick ourselves back up and run at it another time. We’ll be better with each time, put a little more oomph in it this time, more effort, more us.

So let’s take it slowly, sort apart the ingredients. Figure out if the sugar was actually salt, if we put too much barley in, if we put it in the oven for a little too long, a little too short of a time. Sing while we’re at it. We’ll sort it out. We’ll learn.

For now, let’s stick to giving it a bit more rosemary and a bit more


did you know that thyme symbolizes courage? me neither.

there is a profound courage in patience and endurance in time.



One thought on “a recipe:

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