It’s Friday, Valentines Day, February 14. It’s one of two days in a week where I report to the office.
I woke up in great spirits, largely because I was excited to eat the adobo stored in my refrigerator. Not to brag, but it’s pretty remarkable. As I mentioned in my first Five Senses Friday post, I got the perfect ratio of soy sauce: vinegar: cornstarch, and garlic: onion: ginger, and my magic ingredients: lemon, coconut milk and a tiny bit of cream.
Whenever someone told me they have a specialty dish, I always thought to myself that they probably aren’t great at cooking. If you have a specialty, that’s maybe because you’re not great at cooking anything else. I’m happy to report that I don’t think this anymore. I consider myself a good cook, and I have found a specialty in adobo.
I know, I know! It’s the most simple thing to make. It’s hard to fuck up an adobo, it’s basically just chicken or pork marinated in soy sauce, vinegar and peppercorns. It’s going to taste fine any way you cook it. But, recently, I’ve grown fond of perfecting simple things.
The Joy of Doing Simple Things Well
Simple and perfect every time isn’t easy. It’s like comparing a guitar player who shreds and wails in the comfort of their home, and an acoustic player who plays relatively easy songs in front of a crowd every night. The latter will nail the simple songs every time, and the former will probably mess something up. I’m not saying one is better than the other; after all, there’s something to be said about technical prowess. But let this be an appreciation post for things that are simply done but perfectly executed.
Doing things well gives me a rush of serotonin— the right amounts of calm and joy, to know that simple things within your reach can be enhanced to perfection. If you’re doing something simple, then might as well be good at it, right? This is a whole life philosophy that I’ve embraced. And it applies not only in skill-based activities, but to every little area of life; for example, catching up with your friends. You don’t have to go someplace fancy, but if you’re in their company, might as well be fully present and engage. If you’re watching a film, might as well open up all your senses and absorb everything that’s in front of you; avoid peeking at your phone or thinking about other things. The experience won’t be as fun and fulfilling if you don’t fully immerse yourself in whatever you’re doing.
Living to Thrive
Before, when I was in a worse place in terms of my health, I’d do things just for the sake of doing them. I was in survival mode, dragging my feet to do things because I needed to. I needed to have food in my stomach, so I’d cook something fine, but not great. I’d go to an amusement park, but didn’t maximize being there because I was preoccupied thinking of other things. Even as simple as folding my laundry, there were times I didn’t do well, because I was rushing to get more “important” things done.
Fortunately, I don’t live to survive anymore; I live to thrive. To experience the depths of life in all of its beauty. And to achieve that, I believe it starts with doing simple things well. It’s less about the outcome but more so about the process. When making my perfect adobo, it delighted me to adjust the levels of soy sauce and vinegar; to think about my repertoire of ingredients and finding one that will enhance the flavor. I wanted my sauce thick and creamy, so I added cornstarch and a little bit of cream. I wanted to soften the tanginess and add citrusy notes and freshness, so I added lemon. It’s all about the process of finding these little things and basking in the joy of finally doing so.
Embracing Being a Beginner
In the past, I had a contentious relationship with perfection. There was a time where I’d avoid doing things because I know I’m not good at it (which, in hindsight, is stupid.) It’s the classic predicament of a perfectionist. However, what I’m writing about now is different. It’s not the chase of perfection that makes you pull your hair out in frustration, but rather the act of doing something well, which delights your senses and opens up new worlds of possibilities in the process.
Thankfully, I have gotten rid of this previous perfectionist mindset. It started when I experienced the beauty of being a beginner. In April of 2024, I severely broke my ankle and foot because of a treadmill accident and had to learn how to walk again. And, as much pain as I went through with the surgery, when my physical therapist was teaching me how to walk again, I thought to myself, “Wow, this is pure. This is healing.”
I don’t think most of us remember how we learned to walk. We just got up and did it as toddlers. Re-learning how to walk made me feel like a kid again, with a level of naïveté and childlike wonder that I haven’t possessed in a long, long time. When I said this to my therapist, she told me to celebrate an pat myself in the back for finding beauty in something less-than-ideal. It’s not ideal to break your ankle and foot; in fact, it made me feel levels of pain that I haven’t felt before. But finding beauty in getting back up and recovering is what life is all about.
These days, I bask in the light of being a beginner. What I avoided being back then is now something I find joy in being. Right now, I’m re-learning how to play guitar after watching St. Vincent rip one at her concert, which I wrote about last month. I hired a teacher and she gave me an exercise called Study in E-Minor found in this book Guitar Methods by this Filipino maestro named Jose Valdez.
It’s a good exercise because it’s within my skill level but stretches my capabilities, helping me level up as a guitarist as I perfect it. It focuses on individual notes rather than chords; and fingerpicking rather than strumming. Doing it right now, there are still buzzing sounds and wrong finger placements. However, as opposed to feeling frustrated and embarrassed, as I would have in my previous perfectionist mindset, I’m finding the beauty and purity in it. To do something well because you love to do it, not because you want to be the best at it and inflate your ego.
Abiding by my life’s framework, I’m doing things well by not taking any shortcuts. By learning the tip of the iceberg, and diving underwater and learning the rest of the iceberg. It’s a beautiful thing, to learn things, and to learn them well.