Estrategias :: Strategies

Aunque ya no me pasa a menudo, ocasionalmente me sorprendo al ver el plato vacío y reconocer que me he comido todo lo que tenía delante de mí. De pequeño no solía ser así, claro. Me acuerdo perfectamente cuando tenía cinco años en pre-escolar, toda mi clase sentada alrededor de una mesa larga en el comedor a la hora de comer, con nuestra profesora a la cabeza de la misma. En mi colegio era frecuente que nos sirvieran cubos de carne en su salsa, lo que significaba para mí el peor de los tormentos, ya que por regla general teníamos que comernos todo lo que se nos servía. La profesora estaba allí para asegurarse de que cumplíamos con la norma, incluso aunque eso supusiese perder toda la hora de recreo antes de volver a clase en la tarde. Durante el almuerzo no se podía hablar y mucho menos bromear con la comida, ya que esto conllevaba una llamada de atención por parte de la profesora y nos enviaban un boletín a casa para notificar a nuestros padres sobre nuestra falta.

A pesar de las estrictas reglas que se nos imponían,  aprovechábamos la ocasión para dejar volar nuestra creatividad a través de estrategias oscuras para deshacernos de la carne sin llegar a comerla. Empecé extendiendo la superficie de la carne mezclada con un poco de arroz alrededor del plato para que pareciera que había comido “suficiente” o pretendía que me había comenzado a doler el estómago y me encogía en el asiento. Luego fui un poco más lejos, cogiendo algunos trozos de carne para tirarlos al suelo disimuladamente. Sin embargo, no contaba con que la mitad de la clase hacía lo mismo y al final de la comida el suelo debajo de la mesa era un basurero. Aquella estrategia pronto fue descubierta y la reprimenda que recibimos fue colosal. Yo no me daba por vencido. Prefería arriesgarme con estrategias engañosas, aunque me llamasen la atención, a tener arcadas cada vez que tragaba un trozo de carne. Comencé a recurrir al maravilloso invento de las servilletas de papel. Decidí coger los trozos de carne, envolverlos en servilletas y guardármelos en los bolsillos de los pantalones. No obstante, debido a que a esa edad los profesores estaban más atentos a lo que hacíamos, no encontraba fácilmente el momento idóneo para tirar las servilletas a la basura y en muchas ocasiones me pasaba el resto del día con la carne mojando mis bolsillos. “Taiki, ¿por qué hueles a carne…?” Me preguntaban algunos compañeros varias horas después de haber terminado de comer.

Algo cambió a lo largo de los años y ahora puedo comer carne en general y toda y cada una de las verduras en el mercado. Justo antes de comenzar a comer cosas que antiguamente ni las podía ver, me hacía preguntas tipo, “¿Realmente he probado la coliflor siendo consciente de su sabor?  Si tanta gente come la misma carne que yo, algo de sabroso tendrá que tener, ¿no?” Y me di cuenta de que la acción, el querer probar cosas independientemente del resultado, me llevaba a redescubrir ciertos alimentos que ahora como gustosamente. Quiero pensar que algo similar pasa con nuestras creencias y la forma en que actuamos a lo largo de nuestras vidas. A menudo escucho la frase de “Es que siempre he sido así.” O “¿Para qué voy a cambiar a estas alturas si toda mi vida lo he hecho de esta manera?” Muchos no son conscientes de que la edad es irrelevante. Mirad a la americana Nola Ochs que, a sus 95 años, ha obtenido su licenciatura en historia y ahora está cursando un máster. ¿O qué me decís del actor George Clooney, que no obtuvo su reconocimiento mundial hasta los 33 años tras estar 16 años en segundo plano dentro de la industria audiovisual mientras vendía trajes para hombres o cortando cigarros? De manera consciente o inconsciente, tenemos la capacidad de tomar decisiones, salir de nuestra zona de confort, descubriendo nuevas sensaciones y explorar nuevos terrenos en nuestras vidas. No hay nada más verdadero en esta vida que la frase “sólo se vive una vez”. ¿Por qué, entonces, vivirla con tantos disgustos, aversiones o miedos? Sencillamente, no merece la pena.

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Even though it no longer happens to me often, I occasionally surprise myself to see my plate empty and recognize that I have eaten everything that I had in front of me. Of course, it did not use to be like this when I was little. I remember perfectly when I was five years old in pre-school, my entire class gathered around a large table in the dining hall at lunch time, with our teacher sitting at the end of the same. At my school, we were frequently served meat cut into dices and served with its gravy. I experienced these days as my worst nightmare, for it was a general rule that we had to eat everything that we were served. Our teacher was there to make sure that we met the norm, even if it meant losing the entire hour-long break before going back to class in the afternoon. We were not allowed to talk during lunch, let alone play with our food, for this would lead to a verbal warning from the teacher and a notice would be sent home to notify our parents about our misdemeanor.

Despite the strict rules that were imposed on us, we would take advantage of the occasion to let our creativity fly by means of obscure strategies to get rid of the meat without eating it. I began by spreading the surface of the meat mixed with some rice around the plate to make it seem that I had eaten “enough”, or I would pretend that I got a stomach ache and curl on my seat. I later went a little further by craftily grabbing some pieces of meat to throw them on the floor. However, I was not aware of the fact that half of the class was doing the same thing, and at the end of the lunch, the floor beneath the table was a dumpster. That strategy was soon discovered, and the reprimand we received was colossal. I would not give up, though. I would rather risk it with crafty strategies, even if I received verbal warnings, than experience gag reflexes every time I tried swallowing a piece of meat. I then began to resort to the wonderful creation of paper napkins. I decided to take the pieces, wrap them, and put them in my pants’ pockets. Due to the fact that at that age our teacher were more vigilant of the things we did, it proved to be pretty hard to find an ideal moment to throw the napkins away in the trash, and on many occasions, I would spend the rest of the day with the meat damping my pockets. “Taiki, why do you smell like meat…?” my classmates used to ask several hours after finishing eating.

Something changed throughout the years and I can now eat meat in general, as well as each and every one of the vegetables that are available in the market. Just before I started eating things that I could not even look at in the past, I would ask myself, “Have I really tried the cauliflower before being conscious of its taste? If so many people eat the same meat that I do, there must be something tasty in it, right?” And I realized that action, the desire to try things out regardless of the result, took me to rediscover certain foods that I now enjoy eating. I want to think that something similar occurs with our beliefs and the form in which we act throughout our lives. I often hear the phrase, “I have always been like this,” or “Why should I change now when I have done things this way all my life?” Many people are not aware of the fact that age is irrelevant. Look at the American Nola Ochs, who at 95 years old, she has earned her bachelor’s degree in history and she now is pursuing her master’s. Or what about George Clooney, who did not become world-famous until he was 33 years old, after spending 16 years in the background within the audiovisual industry while selling men’s suits and cutting cigars? Either conscious or unconsciously, we have the capacity to make decisions, get out of our comfort zone, discovering new sensations, and explore new territories in our lives. There is nothing more real in this life than the phrase, “we only live once.” Why, then, live life with so many dislikes, aversions, or fears? It simply is not worth it.