I’m very bad at letting go of things, once I’ve set my mind to them. For all that I can be indecisive in the moment (read: “for all that I am indecisive,” but I’m being kind to myself and downplaying it), once I actually manage to make up my mind on a course of action, there’s a fair chance that I’m going to become more attached to that decision than I mean to, and find myself holding onto that choice no matter what lies ahead. I don’t mean to be like this, and in fact, I try not to be — change is good, I tell myself, and I mostly believe it — but, nonetheless, there it is: this is who I am, or at least can be, more often than not.
I say thing as someone who had a moment of realization the other week coming from a reality TV show. If I was a more intelligent man, or at least a more egotistical one, I’d feel embarrassed about the source of this epiphany, but fuck it. I was watching Netflix’s Next Gen Chef, which is essentially What If Top Chef, But They Were A Little Younger And With Less Impressive Resumes? It’s a fun enough show, and I’m a sucker for this kind of thing, but it wasn’t something I went into hoping for any kind of particular self-reflection, or a moment that I’d still be thinking about weeks later.
The gimmick for the show is, it’s a cooking competition that takes place inside the Culinary Institute of America, and the CIA teachers act as mentors for the contestants throughout the show. A slight change from the traditional format, but a useful one; the mentors get to help out, act as sounding boards in moments of uncertainty and, for the viewer, explain things and offer sarcasm when it’s called for.
So, the show hits that traditional cooking show moment that every season gets to at least once a season: a chef is trying to make a particular meal and it all goes to shit. An ingredient fails, and the chef starts spiraling because everything is ruined and they don’t know what to do. Except, in this case, the mentor shows up and asks what’s happened and, after being filled in, asks the most obvious question: Does it have to be that dish?I
It really is such a straightforward question, and such an unsurprising thought — you’re trying this thing and it’s not working out, so try something else — but what stuck with me was the question itself, more than the idea of “start over.” Does it have to be the thing that you’ve been focusing on? Why don’t you look at what you’ve got that works and think about what else can be done with it? What might even be better, all things considered?
That’s what I’ve started asking myself when I can feel myself getting fixated on a particular idea or a particular feeling about how something is “supposed” to happen. Does it have to be that way? Sometimes the answer is yes; sometimes, it’s “it doesn’t have to, but I’d still like it to be,” and that’s fine too. What matters more is the asking, and the forgiveness and grace implied in being willing to say no and change everything without giving myself a hard time.
It’s a small step, and one that I suspect other people make without any kind of self-reflection at all; but it’s a nice change for me.