Winter: Taking Stock
Grieving what we lost and studying survival
For Fall, I wrote about preparing for winter as each passing day reminded us that those in power would prefer us gone—depressed, alone, and even dead. I saw people reaching out for comfort in disbelief, defining community for themselves, and identifying skills and needs and plans. Preparing and planning are protective responses to any flavor of discomfort. They help us move away from pain, dream for something safer, and catalyze our intentions. Action is different than feeling and winter invited me into the hibernation required to take stock, reinforce, and release.
This looked like simmering food scrap stock and practicing bulk cooking, maintaining and expanding existing relationships and networks of care, and purging my home of the debris and remnants of a different dream. I cooked that grief into many meals, sorted my uncertainty with seasonings and pandemic craft supplies, and shed tears in the donated clutter of my basement. This organization was clarifying to my systems so I can show up in fullness and streamline my efforts.
In reflection of this season, I watch the last snow and write. Spring is so close I could reach out and graze my fingers along the warmth of her horizon. My words land on the page as the flakes fall on the already warming ground knowing that I too will thaw and my efforts will bloom.
Until then, a recipe for your own grief stock and a metaphor for the sustainability of survival. When cooking, I freeze food scraps like the ends and skins of onions, garlic, and carrots in a large container. When the scrap bag is full, I know it is time to make “grief stock.” The bag of scraps represents unpleasant and intense emotional needs I was not able to tend to when they surfaced.
In my experience, it is not possible to respond to every emotion the moment it rises so when confronted with their more painful needs we often shut them down and tune them out. These internal, usually automatic actions, protect us from discomfort and allow us to continue on with what the present may need from us. While this can be helpful in the short term, the emotions are left with unmet needs that build and impact us in many ways.
Coming back to the feelings when there is space to experience and care for their pain is a transformative healing process. I find the return to be the most important part and where grief stock comes in.
I dump the scraps into my biggest, heaviest pot listening to their cold bodies tumble and crunch. This listening helps me tune in to emotions that need to be seen. No matter what this practice looks like, you will be surprised by what you hear when you make space to listen. Many times I already know what I need to return to, but I stay with openness and curiosity for whatever joins me. When I hear them call through thoughts, memories, or body sensations, I choose an item to represent them. Fear becomes the shallot skins, shame the parmesan rind, and hope the bay leaf (always there, but hard to distinguish.)
Sometimes the emotional recipe is longer and more complicated than others, but start with what you have and take it one ingredient at a time. Your emotions have waited for this moment and if you keep coming back they will tell you what they need. Once you know who you are cooking with, cover with water and salt. Notice what changes about the floating frosty skins as you bring the water to a subtle simmer. Some vulnerable ingredients like greens, meat bones, and herbs can require lower heat and more tending to avoid bitterness—how apt—so keep that in mind and sample your brew every 15-30 minutes.
Keep the concoction on a medium-low flame covered or uncovered and answer the following questions however makes sense to you.
What feelings or experiences are represented by each scrap?
Which of these feelings are familiar to care for and which did you not expect to see?
Which of these feelings are personal and individual and which are shared and collective? Are any both?
One ingredient at a time, how does each feeling share with you what it needs? Pay attention to urges to process problems, yawn and stretch, and kitchen dance party. These are a few of my go tos, but you will write your recipe for maximum release and flavor with practice.
Based on what you notice, are you able to cry, talk, walk, sleep, etc now? If so, do it! Otherwise let them know you heard them and when they can expect your care. Take as much time as you can on this question while sampling your stock and caring for your feelings. This can be an all day process like my eggplant parmesan.
Depending on the ingredients, your stock can simmer for as long as it makes sense. Some things to note from an experienced emotional chef:
Like steeping tea, longer simmer means more flavor.
More flavor does not always mean more delicious. Even if your stock ends up bitter, you released something in the process. Usable stock is a bonus and I have come to accept that burnt and bitter happens.
Every attempt releases something and gives you more information. Pay attention to how you might try differently next time.
If you do end up with something you could consume, drain and allow to cool fully before jarring and freezing. Add to any recipe calling for water like chili, soups, and stews!
Cookbook Corner: Now with more resources! Here are some things that helped me get by.
P.O. Box Collective collected valentines for detained migrant youth in Chicago who are separated from their families. A Logan Square Mutual Aid member hosted a heart opening yoga practice and card making event at Oracle and Alchemy.
I attended a virtual conference for Social Workers Confronting Racial Injustice and while the conversation with Mariame Kaba and Kelly Hayes is not available for rewatch, this page is a wealth of knowledge and resources. Please use the links to support their work and offerings!
I toured Hull House to see their Radical Craft exhibit and took a mending class hosted by The Wasteshed. You can find me practicing my hand stitches and thinking about art as resistance, care, and community building.
I have relied on Fariha Roisin’s poems in Survival Takes a Wild Imagination on the darkest of nights.
I subscribed to a few zine of the month clubs! Check out Interrupting Criminalization’s sociopolitical planning tool, birth and gender doula Ashley Hartman Annis, and Unfolding Connections.
The Pantry:
Chicago Minds is hosting me for an in person workshop for therapists in April. I am very excited about this opportunity to run a new group—dough making! If you are a local therapist, please sign up through this link and share.