Gratitude for the burnt ochro

Grief
I opened the lid of the non-stick frying pan and realised there gravy was gone and there was only the brown crust on . This was it, I thought, failure again to do what I used to do well, without thinking, in the past. Failure to be mindful that everything has to be done like for the first time.

The ochroes were young, green, bright green. I had not cooked the recipe for a long time since my mind on other things or on nothing at all. I stood up at the front of the stand wondering if I should buy them. I thought nah man, is okay, you can do this, would be nice, something nice that you used to enjoy.

I forgot though, the low heat, the lowest heat. So the deep sense of loss, not only of the ability to cook the nice recipe which I had done many times before, but of so many other things.

Breathing
I sit on the floor , breathing. I should be doing the exercises, the yoga stretches which sometimes help to move the dark fog in my mind and at least make the body feel light even if the mind is heavy. The body though is stiff, as mind is on the failed ochro, on the work I took on which I could not complete, on the other work still to be completed which I should not have said yes to.

I keep breathing. Knowing that for now at least, I can breathe. I had been composing in my head an email to connect with the loved one who had resumed shunning me after a polite email. I thought of how I had been trying with the ochro thing, that maybe I could try reconnecting.

I realised though, that in forgetting the heat, that in not paying attention to details that the ochro was messed up . And I am grateful as I remembered the details, the loved one was clear. No more connection, please do not call or contact.

Eating the parts not so burned
I was not going to throw away the food. This is not crispy stuff, or carmelised stuff. The burnt bits don't taste good.  I find a way to take out the not so burned parts. The ochro is soft still, the seeds are there. I figure out a way to rescue, and manage to get enough to add to a meal and have a memory of the taste of the original thing. Minus the lovely gravy.

And I think of myself, burning, burned, stuck. But with parts that could be useful, that could be found and be useful.  That with the dark clouds on the mind, with the low emotional intelligence to adjust to the life circumstances, with the declining skills and abilities and competencies,, there will be parts which will be useful somehow.

And I will not be worried about whether I will ever cook the recipe again or anything else, but focus on what I can do.