Chaos Among Serendipity

Chaos. It is the only word that feels honest for the moment we are living in. Everything appears to be happening at once. The federal government is shut down. Grocery prices are climbing with athletic ambition. The job market feels fragile, the housing market volatile. Utility bills are rumored to be next. Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, it still feels like summer despite the calendar’s insistence that November is near. Climate change, anyone?

Kauai, November 2024

Racists remain confused about geography. A reminder: Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory. Bad Bunny is a U.S. citizen. Enough said.

A basic grocery run now costs me around $100, and that excludes Champagne. Businesses continue to navigate an ever-shifting tariff landscape. Is Trump still rewriting the rules on that?

Journalists have handed in their Pentagon credentials. Universities are declining to sign the Trump administration’s latest federal grant pact. Has any institution agreed to it?

In Southern California, the 5 Freeway, one of the busiest corridors in the country, was temporarily shut down because the military was firing missiles overhead. The surreal has become normal.

My Instagram feed is crowded with headlines about the U.S. passport slipping out of the global Top 10. But how much does that matter when we have adults who do not know Puerto Rico is part of the United States? Who cares about passport rankings when our education system has failed to teach basic geography for generations? That is the more enduring embarrassment.

And then there was the bedbug outbreak at Google’s New York offices, sending employees back to remote work. I am not even going to get into AI and the quiet replacement of entry-level jobs. That is another essay.

I cannot ignore what is happening. But I have chosen to emotionally detach—not out of indifference, but out of necessity. I have accepted that I cannot breathe intelligence into ignorance, turn hate into love, or save those who refuse to be saved. Most importantly, I had to acknowledge that I am not Jesus. I cannot feed five thousand with five loaves and two fish. I cannot save all. We cannot save all.

Over the past three years, I have worked deliberately to build a serene life—one that satisfies my cravings and curiosities. I have filled my space with objects that bring quiet gratitude. I have filled my time with experiences that bring euphoria, adrenaline, delight, fulfillment, and sometimes simply peace in the mundane. I built habits and routines, recalibrating them whenever the symptoms of clinical depression resurfaced.

I have learned that the only true control I possess is over my own life. I cannot control what unfolds in the world, but I can shape what unfolds in my world. I decide what enters my space, physically and emotionally. I set boundaries and enforce consequences. I manage what occupies my time and energy. I determine the who, what, where, and when of everything within my orbit.

In doing so, I created space for serendipity—for the unexpected joys I never planned for but deeply needed.

The chaos of our era once seeped into my life and chipped away at its health. Now, wrapped in the sanctuary I have built, chaos no longer pierces me. It meets the layers of serenity and serendipity I have intentionally cultivated—and remains outside.

_____

More essays:

Vermont & 8th

Are We Living in 1864?

Culling.

It Happens All the Time.

Can We Please Return to Civility?

ESSAYS | RECIPES | STYLES | IG

Comments

Culpability in Mr. Jordan Neely's Death

It had been a hellish two months. I am not quite ready to share that story, but I can say with some serenity that it is now behind me. On my way home from one of my solo dinners — a book in hand, celebrating the quiet return of civility to my life — the Lyft paused in traffic in front of 1313 W. 8th Street. The building houses the ACLU, one of the NGOs I once supported. The past tense there is a longer story for another time. Photo by Matt Collamer on Unsplash Above the entrance is painted a list of demands: housing, healthcare, green space — all reasonable things a society should strive to provide. At the very bottom of the list, just above the ACLU sign, the words “More Police” have been crossed out. The sight of it brought to mind the death of Mr. Jordan Neely and the man who restrained him on a New York City subway train, Mr. Daniel Penny. You may not have heard of Mr. Jordan Neely. He died before reaching thirty-one years of age. At the time of his death, he was on New York City’...

Not the Mayak Eggs, But Ganjang Gyeran-Jang

Although this delicious soy sauce-based brine can certainly be used to make the once-viral Mayak Eggs, I prefer the eggs for this particular banchan fully cooked rather than jammy. Partly out of familiarity from childhood and partly for food safety, fully cooked eggs keep longer in the refrigerator. Typically, jammy-yolk eggs are good for two to three days, while fully cooked eggs are safe for four to five days. INGREDIENTS six eggs three celery sticks, cut in thirds [for the soy sauce-based brine] five Thai chilies, sliced four garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped two green onions, finely chopped a half cup of soy sauce one and a half tablespoons of sugar a tablespoon of sesame oil three-quarters of a teaspoon of honey For perfectly boiled eggs, place the eggs in a pot with plenty of room at the bottom. Do not stack the eggs. Add enough room-temperature water to submerge the eggs and a handful of salt to clog leakage in case shells crack. All ceramic bowls were wheel-thrown and g...

Curated: Summer Dresses

In my late thirties, I wore a mini knitted dress as a mini knitted dress, which felt perfectly reasonable until my fifties arrived and I found myself styling it differently. Now, the same dress has been reassigned as a long top because a very short hemline eventually starts to feel less like a fashion choice and more like a risk-management exercise, with increasing odds of revealing far more than was ever intended. This is the peculiar elegance of getting older: the skirt may lengthen, the styling may sharpen, and the reveal becomes less about inches and more about instinct. Brunch at Coastal Kitchen Monterey I kept that in mind as my curation for summer dresses began. Mini dresses were not exiled from the curation, but I shifted the focus toward those of us who have reached expert-level proficiency in risk assessment, even as our sense of style has only sharpened. UTCOCO Lapel Shirt Dress JavaScript is currently disabled in this browser. Reactivate it to view this content. ROMANTICTOU...

The Egg Salad Sandwich

Cheap, filling, and easy to make. Those qualities are likely what made the egg salad sandwich a staple, though the origins of egg salad itself remain somewhat humble and blurred by time. While chopped or dressed boiled eggs appeared in European cooking long before the modern egg salad sandwich, it did not officially emerge until mayonnaise entered French cuisine in the early nineteenth century. Curiously, the invention of the egg salad sandwich is not credited to the French but rather to the British or Americans, depending on which culinary historian you ask. I've always preferred a little punch and a less-is-more philosophy when it comes to ingredients, so my version of the egg salad sandwich leans heavily on flavor rather than excess. In fact, it is even better after a few hours in the refrigerator, when the ingredients have had time to mingle and deepen one another. INGREDIENTS three eggs, boiled, diced, and chopped a celery stalk, finely diced a quarter of a shallot, finely d...

Gwyneth Paltrow is Aloof, So What Are You?

There are days when I feel utterly disconnected from the world. It took an IG feed from Diet Prada for me to learn that Gwyneth Paltrow had starred in an ad for 51 Park, a luxury residential development in Herzliya, Israel. Herzliya is an affluent coastal city north of Tel Aviv, and the project is being marketed as a luxury residential development there. To be clear, 51 Park is not in Gaza. It is in Israel. But precision does not make the geography innocent: parts of present-day Herzliya overlap with or sit near the land of al-Haram, also known as Sidna Ali, a Palestinian Arab village depopulated in 1948. Lisbon, Portugal There is misinformation about where the 51 Park residential development is located, and the distinction matters. If our beating of Gwyneth Paltrow is going to be effective, it should at least be accurate. I have never liked her. I have never hated her. Even before the 51 Park ad controversy broke, I felt she was irrelevant. Her acting skills are not impressive. Would ...

Are We Really Living Our Best Life?

I don't drive, something I gave up while incorporating minimalism into my lifestyle. I have a fixed utility bill, not including the internet, because I live in a building that is over 100 years old. I am a party of one, without even a fur baby, so the grocery bills are minimal, especially since I am on a diet. It may not feel like it if you follow me on IG Stories, but I've lost fifteen pounds as I type this. So far, I haven't felt the sticker shock of the brinkmanship war in the Strait of Hormuz. Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California I know I live in a bubble. I am sure I am impacted, but I haven't felt the punch yet because a rapid rate of consumption is not part of my life, though I have defaulted to it whenever my life has been invaded by the obliviously prejudiced, triggering traumatic stress. While the mindless and ignorant are unavoidable, I eventually retreat to my bubble to heal and reset, making the damaging party persona non grata. As a former therapist...

Surf & Turf Fried Rice

Growing up, fried rice was a staple in our home. My mother served it with yellow radish pickles and kimchi, sometimes crowned with a fried egg. On certain days it appeared a little fancier—tucked neatly inside an omelet, or my personal favorite, stuffed into inari age, those seasoned fried tofu pouches that soak up every grain. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me Fried rice exists in many forms across Asia—China, Japan, Korea, Thailand, and Vietnam, to name only a few—each with its own techniques, flavors, and traditions. I cannot say that my version belongs squarely to any one of them. It began with the flavors and instincts of Korean-style fried rice, but over time it evolved, influenced by my Chinese-Hungarian-American ex-husband and the ingredients commonly found in American kitchens: leftover ham, jalapeño, and calabacita. This version leans into a playful idea of surf and turf—shrimp representing the sea and ham representing the land—folded together into a wok of rice ...

Will Love Give Us the Courage to Let Our Dad Go?

I believe the cruelest thing a human can experience is burying their child. While the only thing guaranteed in life, from the moment we take our first breath to our last, is death, for a parent to bury a child is not the natural progression of life. For more than six years, I have watched my Dad go through rounds of chemotherapy, years of dialysis, emergency room visits, and hospitalizations where doctors advised against further medical treatment—until my brother vehemently fought for it. If you ever need a medical advocate, you should hire him. Perhaps it is the lawyer in him that convinces doctors to shift their medical opinions. My Dad asked, and my brother passionately advocated for him for days so he could receive his first round of chemotherapy more than six years ago, which the doctor at first refused to administer since it was an unusual treatment for his autoimmune disease. He would have passed away within a matter of months without it. He did squats after his first chemothera...

Balsamic Caramelized Brussels Sprouts

Brussels sprouts are one of those polarizing vegetables. They are either embraced or avoided with conviction. I once avoided them entirely, until I tasted them finished with balsamic glaze . The bitterness softened. The edges crisped. What had felt harsh became unexpectedly compelling. Roasted Brussels sprouts with caramelized edges, glossed in balsamic reduction and finished with brown sugar, change the equation. The exterior turns crisp and almost candied, while the centers remain tender. Sweet and acidic. Charred and balanced. While these Balsamic Caramelized Brussels Sprouts are dependable as a side dish, they hold their own as a meal in a bowl. INGREDIENTS [serves 4 as a side] one pound of Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved balsamic glaze made from a half cup of balsamic vinegar two teaspoons of brown sugar salt and pepper to season olive oil to drizzle Preheat the oven to 400°F. Arrange the Brussels sprouts cut side down on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil. Lightl...

Homemade Balsamic Glaze

There are ingredients that demand complexity, and then there are ingredients that reward quiet. Balsamic glaze belongs firmly in the latter category. At its core, it is nothing more than vinegar reduced with a touch of sugar. No emulsions. No elaborate technique. Just heat transforming sharpness into depth. As the vinegar simmers, it thickens into something darker, glossier, and quietly dramatic. A proper balsamic reduction carries contrast. It is sweet, but not cloying. Acidic, but softened. It pools against burrata, streaks across roasted vegetables, finishes a steak, and cuts through the richness of duck with precision. It does not overwhelm. It punctuates. And unlike many bottled versions, which can taste flat or syrupy, a homemade glaze retains the complexity of the vinegar itself. The flavor concentrates. The texture becomes silkier. The control is yours. INGREDIENTS a half cup of balsamic vinegar one and a half teaspoons of sugar In a small saucepan, combine the balsamic...

Exhaling Life

Search This Blog