Baking a Better Me

Having watched a no-way-you-can-mess-this-up-baking-bread tutorial online, I was recently motivated to escape the confinements of my tiny bedroom, where I had spent most of March and April sleeping and working. Sure, we had bread in the house. Still, baking bread, I thought, would afford me a tangible and immediate sense of accomplishment as well as an opportunity to nonchalantly dismiss buying something that I could freshly bake at home. I also thought this would be a great way to take advantage of my time at home to hang out with my mom, a recent retiree, who usually did most of the cooking on the weekdays while I schlepped myself home from late nights at the office. She was excited by the idea, and we soon got together to get this organic whole-wheat flour fermentation party started. An hour later, I became visibly upset, pulling out the burnt yet still somehow uncooked bread from the oven. Though no fault of my mom, she inevitably became the target of my anger and disappointment. I wanted bread. I wanted it done right. And I wanted it right now. All over Instagram, my friends were concocting amazing dinner ideas while I sat with a spatula salvaging any edible pieces of dough. Yet, even with her best attempts to show encouragement by regathering ingredients for a do-over, I was bothered. We ended up tossing the entire thing out.

As I lay down to sleep that night, I reflected on this baking fail and numerous such incidents over the past two months. It made me realize two things I think are worth sharing:

1) Our Psychological Achilles’ Heel

The first thing I asked myself after the baking debacle was: why did I behave this way? Clearly, the issue went beyond my gluttony for carbs. The more I thought about the root of my anger, the more I realized that quarantining with my family was revealing parts of me that I had all too often overlooked. These parts of me were ones I did not like, not in a self-deprecating kind of way, but surely in a manner that warranted self-improvement. We typically have these types of revelations from time to time when catalyzed. Still, living almost entirely, and in such proximity to others during this pandemic highlighted my behavior more immediately and emphatically. I realized something profound: quarantining has become a magnifying glass that uncovered my psychological Achilles’ heel. My weaknesses and unresolved issues, during this time, had become more transparent and focused.

It showed me that our behavior in our most private moments with ourselves and with the ones we love reveals who we truly are. It’s in these moments that we’re home with our true selves, carrying no fears of judgment, and topped with our family’s sweet, unconditional love. It’s as if we already know that we can behave selfishly because our loved ones’ forgiveness will always follow. And we take advantage of that. But aren’t they the ones who deserve the best versions of us? Instead of comparing my baking talent with others on social media, perhaps the real challenge was to turn inward when my behavior was wayward. The Hindu concept of inward reflection, antardrashti, became a valuable tool I found myself frequently reaching for during these types of close encounters. It became a practical process to personal change because it helped me identify immediate steps I needed to take and taught me to nurture that improvement for a more permanent change.

2. Knowing vs. Understanding

I am sure many have experienced at least one of the following conditions during this quarantine:

• You have been aggravated by a family member’s lack of seriousness in taking COVID-19 precautions
• You have been put off by a family member’s habits that have now become more prominently noticeable
• You find yourself getting into arguments over minute things
• You feel a lack of control

The other part of the equation is everyone we are quarantined with. It’s not to say it’s a bad thing, but it’s an unusual thing to spend this much time with someone. There simply may not be the physical space available to get any sort of alone time. But if you identified with any of the above, here is something worth considering.

How well do we know the people that live with us? And how well do we understand them? The two may seem like the same question on the surface, but they’re quite different. Knowing is observing the superficial aspects of someone — their journeys to their current profession, their academic background, or their personal preferences. But understanding is octaves higher. In The Heart of Understanding: Commentaries on the Prajnaparamita Heart Sutra, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk named Thich Nhat Hann offers what understanding something truly means:

“If we want to understand a person, we have to feel their feelings, suffer their sufferings, and enjoy their joys. The word ‘comprehend’ is made up of the Latin roots, ‘com,’ which means ‘together in mind,’ and ‘prehendere,’ which means ‘to grasp or pick it up.’ So, to comprehend something means to pick it up and be one with it. There is no other way to understand something.”

Now reflect upon one of the items you identified with before. Were you able to extend understanding to the other person’s stresses, psychological state, or mood? Or did you just take the situation for face value and move on?

Here’s what I discovered. Most of us fail to ask why. Why did the other person react that way? Why did they think and behave in a particular way? We’re so afraid to delve deeper because either

a) we’re content with the superficial nature of the relationship, or

b) we were never forced to do so

But rather than seeing it as a consequence of a forced quarantine situation, I saw it as an opportunity. Psychologist Carl Jung puts it best, “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”

HH Pramukh Swami Maharaj, the fifth spiritual leader of BAPS, takes this concept of understanding others and ourselves one step further by highlighting a very critical ingredient. “It is only with love and understanding that we can find harmony.”

This insight was a revelation to me! When we fail to understand, love is often absent. We are hard on ourselves and others. But as Pramukh Swami Maharaj noted, leaning in and out of situations with a loving understanding is critical for family harmony. I realized that as I lay down to sleep that bread-free night, this could be an excellent opportunity for me to improve my relationship with my mother. The bread debacle made me reflect in a way I had never done before! And while these two thoughts came to me as an epiphany during a lock-down, they are lessons I intend to lean into well beyond this quarantine.

Bhavisha Doshi, Civil Engineer, North Bergen, NJ