There Is No Recipe

On a Friday morning in the summer, I sat in my backyard and read an article in the Wall Street Journal about cooking, something we have all been doing a lot more of over these quarantine months. 

The writer shared how she had found the perfect recipe for a sweltering summer day from a cookbook she admired. The recipe was for a cold salad, with figs and mint and other yummy things. She set out to make it. But after she began she realized she didn’t have nearly enough figs and no mint and was also missing the walnuts. But she was already underway, so she did something we all must do during this time, she improvised. 

The ability to improvise requires creativity and a looseness that only comes when we allow ourselves to relax. There is no creativity when our backs are up against a wall. We might pivot, sure, but pivoting is all intellect— it comes from thinking. Improvisation, on the other hand, implies a certain playfulness. Improvisation is fun. It’s lighthearted. It’s easy. It’s rooted in feeling.

When we believe that a recipe or a plan or a formula is exacting, we start thinking in very rigid ways. And when something doesn’t go according to plan, we get stressed. It’s much less likely we’ll think creatively from this place—and we certainly won't have any fun doing it.

The same goes in our work. Whatever plans, protocols or objectives were in place before, when we believe they are precise instructions with no leeway, we build ourselves into a corner. This feels tiring and stressful. The joy gets sucked out when we think there is only one right way. Any fun and creativity get replaced with pressure. 

Sitting in my backyard, what I loved about this home chef’s approach was that she didn’t take the recipe as a rigid mandate, she took the recipe as the beginning of a conversation with the cook. 

And a conversation is two-way. We get to have a say. How it feels, what we think, what we’re inspired by, all of this becomes part of an engaging conversation. 

Where might you relax your approach, and be inspired by the plans instead of being at the mercy of them?

What would it feel like to know there isn’t just one right way to cook up whatever is next?

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