Something Shorter
A Palate-Cleanser Between Big Bites
Years ago, while visiting San Francisco with a friend, we went to an Omakase sushi place that still has my mouth watering. Neither of us had ever experienced anything like this before: where you leave the menu up to the chef and simply show up, eat till you’re full, and happily pay the bill. We were intrigued. The server brought us one bite at a time, elegantly served on a dish, allowing us to experience every flavor as its own event. We didn’t know what was coming next or when it would stop. On occasion, she’d check in to ask how we were feeling and we’d nod and grunt, then wave on more food.
At one point, somewhere halfway through the meal, a single potato chip arrived at our table.
“What’s this?” I asked, staring at the chip sitting on its own plate.
“A potato chip,” the server sneered.
My eyes narrowed.
“It’s a palate-cleanser,” she clarified.
I nodded thoughtfully, the way you do at expensive restaurants, then crunched into it, trying to detect notes of something other than fried potato and salt.
It was, by all accounts, a simple chip. Might have even been a Lay’s. And that was the point. It wasn’t meant to be complex, wasn’t meant to be anything other than what it was. We chewed our respective chips and swallowed, curious and confused. The simplicity of that one little bite helped us both appreciate what was to come, cleansing our mouths of soy sauce and rice vinegar, washing away the subtle remnants of raw fish.
Then came the rest of the meal. Our taste buds unlocked, we continued the feast, eating all manner of things we had never seen before and haven’t experienced since. When it was all over, we were full and a bit tipsy, having both enjoyed a few cocktails during the meal. The bill came, and my friend asked me if we could put it all on my card and offered to pay his half with cash so his wife wouldn’t see any evidence of such grand indulgence. We both agreed it was one of the best meals of our lives.
There is, in fact, such a thing as too much of a good thing. Chefs know this, as do writers. You can’t ask an audience to devour everything you’re putting in front of them, incessantly, no matter how incredible the goods may be. After some time, the flavors start to blend together, and you need a break.
This is true of life. There is so much coming at us all the time that it can be hard to experience much of it at all. We need the occasional interstitial to put things into context. Otherwise, we end up racing from one buffet line to the next, never fully aware of what we’re consuming.
I’ve been sharing a lot of deep things lately and thought it might be nice to take a break in between big “bites” of content. So my hope is that this is that—a potato chip of sorts to reset the flavors in your life. Sorry for the heavy-handed analogy, but you get the idea.
With whatever morsels of time you may have today, I hope you appreciate all that is before and around and within you. And if not today, then this weekend. And if not then, then soon.
Go for a walk without shoes one morning, just after sunrise, and let the dew kiss the spaces between your toes, transplanting you back to Eden.
Blow off mowing the lawn today and instead sip your tea, watching from the comfort of your front porch, and see how everything continues just fine without your interference. It is all well.
Take a break in the midst of whatever you’re doing and find the face of someone you love, or maybe that of a perfect stranger, and search for the humanity inside that thing they call a personality. Enjoy the sheer pleasure of observation, of looking and seeing into a thing instead of just glancing over it.
You don’t have to do this forever. You don’t even have to do it for a minute. Just do it now, for a moment. And then, when you are ready and your senses prepared, allow yourself to move on to the next course.
In Other News
In case you missed it, earlier this week I shared some thoughts on the Barbie movie, Oppenheimer, and a conversation I think we ought be having about binaries. I hope you’ll take some time to read it. It’s a big bite but hopefully worth the chew.
Also, The Ghost just crossed 200 paid subs, and I was informed yesterday that this is now a featured Substack Publication. I appreciate all the support and am honored to be a part of such a wonderful community of writers and readers. It’s a lot of fun. As a thank-you, I’m doing another live teaching in a couple weeks on how books and lives need the right structure to thrive. To get more details, subscribe; I’ll share more soon. Both the live call and recording will only be available for paid subs.
Speaking of, if you missed the last call we did a few weeks ago, you can watch the replay (only available for paid subs, link below). Our next live call will be Part 2 in this series, so be sure to catch up before then.
That’s all for now! Thank you for reading and for taking your time in between each piece. Your attention and care matters to me. Drop a comment below with what’s new in your world and what you’d like to see more of here, content-wise. I can’t promise to give it to you, as that would be very un-Omakase-like. But it’s always good to hear what resonates and what you’re struggling with and working on.
Let the rest of the meal begin.
P.S. What do you do to reset the pace of your life? Share the last time you did this in the comments.
Well said. Short interludes of calmer water between waves make the trip. Also (as a guy who notices), this was well written. Good on you.
Jeff, this is beautiful. I love the idea of a break, a palate cleanser, a refresh. By midday today, I felt so fatigued, exhausted; like I just hadn't been able to recuperate from the week with one Friday nights' rest. So I took a midday shower. A longer one--not the kind you take when you're on a schedule or getting ready to go somewhere. I did a face mask, took the time to blow dry my hair. And then I did gua sha, an ancient form of Chinese medicine. And in the midst of the smoothing the tool over my skin, the glide made possible by the facial oil I was using; I felt myself relax. And I just really appreciated my face, the increasing sun spots, the crow's feet, the laugh lines. I almost cried b/c the relief was so sweet. We all need a deep breath or two and that's a bit what reading this piece of writing felt like for me. May we all be well.