About Vocational Ageing
The Shattered Measuring Jug
by Sheela Kanagasabai
There are so many stages that I go through when I often have to rise above the storm and refresh my resolve. The kitchen is a place where I normally retreat to. I bring out my measuring jug & spoons, baking trays, parchment paper, pastry brush to tackle burdens that seem simply overpowering. I hide in my kitchen, and bury my head in my measuring cups – I feel safe in my feminine confines.
It may seem to be a good thing to let it all out by crying while rearranging the cupboards, souring down the kitchen tops and washing up all the dusty jar tops. I measured my worth in the amount of ingredients I used in my cakes, pies and muffins. Unsatisfied, I continued with roast and soups which helped me to dilute the knot in my stomach, and finally breathing a sigh of relief over a solution, once the dessert was perfectly set.
The glass measuring jug was handed down to me by my mother. A measuring cup or jug is a kitchen utensil used primarily to measure the volume of liquid or bulk solid cooking ingredients. She used it to mix milky formulae for all her babies in her early years of motherhood. She bought it at a retailer called Whiteway’s, an established English product wholesaler in Kuala Lumpur in 1956. I am constantly reminded that it was the most expensive jug that she saved towards and it was my turn to take extra care of this heirloom piece.
It irritated the life out of me whenever I had to hear her constant reminder when using that jug. I had visions of the jug falling and shattering into a million pieces and tried very hard to erase that sight. And finally, it happened last week. Using the jug to measure an oil mixture, and in my haste to wash out the residue with scalding water, it finally cracked when it slipped out of my hands in the kitchen sink.
My head was pounding, as I tried to find a way to hide my stupid blunder. Guilty fever surrounded me the whole day and I had no excuse for my bad mood. I started to impulse clean and even got very cranky when I could not measure out the ingredients I needed for a new recipe. Not wasting any more time pondering over what I should do next, I immediately went online to source for a new jug.
The same measuring jug was used two years ago when mum had to endure tube feeding because she had surgical intervention to remove a growing tumor inside her palette. This silicone tube is a medical device used to provide nutrition to patients who cannot obtain same by mouth, are unable to swallow safely, or need nutritional supplementation. No matter how much she hated being fed daily in this manner, she would only allow me to undertake this task using her own sterile measuring glass jug. Since dad’s passing, mum moved from her home to my condo bringing with her crockery, porcelain, china, antiques, ever-silver and many other mementoes. These items not only occupied my kitchen cabinet but were now bursting at the seams of my bedroom cupboards. I could not afford to encourage her fondness for collecting all kinds of lunch & dinnerware going forward because we seriously lack space. I knew I would never be able to replace the measuring jug I broke. Living in a state of anxiety headed me into a mindless chatter that was creating sleepless anxiety. I realized that the broken measuring jar represented different stages of my late mother’s live as a wife, mother and widow.
I finally confessed to the unfortunate accident. “What’s the use in feeling guilty when gratitude feels so much better” – my mother exclaimed. “As we live life and experience it to its fullest, it’s only natural that we sometimes cling onto what once was. Cultivating an attitude of gratefulness is all about living in the present moment, appreciating what is here for us, allowing whatever arises not to anchor us down. Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. Most of the time, we are all grateful for what we do have but sometimes we forget to be grateful for what we don't have”. She said that all the keepsakes were just reminders of everyday things that a mother clings to with her hands. They are just physical reminders that possessions are meant to enhance life, not to become the main focus of living. Her rational was that we come into the world with nothing, and we all leave with nothing. I have since replaced the jug and learnt a valuable lesson in letting go of the past and being grateful for the present.