Caption of Michael Johnson
Hey there, guess what happened today?
You’ll never believe where I found myself today. I was knee-deep in what can only be described as an artsy wonderland—a glassblowing workshop here in Seoul. Picture this: glowing blobs of molten glass, swirling colors, and somehow, amidst all that molten chaos, Mi-young and I managed to create something resembling actual art.
So there we were, learning how to manipulate glass like some sorcerers of the crafting world. The instructors were these seasoned artisans with an unbelievable knack for making it look so effortless, twirling molten glass almost like candy, but the process? Oh man, it was every bit as mesmerizing as it sounds.
I had this piece of glass in front of me, and it was like trying to mold a glowing sunset. Sure, it sounds poetic, but the reality was a lot sweatier than I anticipated. Mi-young was in her element though. She had this way of turning bits of glass into these cool abstract shapes that somehow reminded me of her Tai Chi moves. Really threw myself at it too, hoping for something nature-inspired. Let’s just say, what started off as an attempt at a delicate leaf ended up more like abstract…lumps. But hey, new experiences, right?
It was surprisingly expressive. There’s something about working with your hands, putting elbow grease into bending something to your will, that was a real blast. Made me think about the European cook-along earlier. There’s a certain joy in crafting stuff, whether it’s culinary delights or glass creations. My risotto might not have been the chef’s pièce de résistance, but at least Heejin’s virtual encouragement kept me from setting it ablaze, so there’s a win!
Oh, and the meditation retreat earlier? That was an entirely different dimension altogether. Imagine sitting there amongst whispers of leaves and melodic bird calls, while the city hums in the distance. A mental palate cleanser, if you will. Kind of grounded me for what came next, I think. Those moments of silence felt like pressing a reset button—and considering the whirlwind of activities today, I needed it.
Anyway, I can’t help but marvel at how a single day can swing from quiet introspection to such exhilarating creative outbursts like glassblowing. It’s crazy.
But yeah, still buzzing from it all. There’s a certain rhythm or flow to the day when you’re caught between moments of deep calm and bursts of creation. Plus, Mi-young and I ended the workshop with a pseudo-toast—coffee cups in hand—gazing at our imperfect but deeply satisfying creations. Felt like we were Breuer’d out artists with molten glass as our muse.
So, earlier today, I was diving into this culinary escapade with folks from literally all corners of the world, and it was like traveling through flavors without ever leaving my kitchen. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if my mushroom risotto would end up as a culinary disaster or a triumphant dish fit for TV.
But here’s the twist—along with following the recipe, we started sharing tidbits about the quirkiest meals we’ve ever eaten. One guy talked about trying fried crickets in Cambodia, and can you imagine my surprise when someone else chimed in, casually mentioning spaghetti as their introduction to European cuisine? I guess, in a way, it’s all about perspectives, right?
So, not to brag, but my risotto turned out to be on the better side of edible. Not Michelin-starred by any measure, but let’s just say it’s given me the confidence boost to attempt a soufflé next time. Throughout, there were little bursts of laughter interspersed with serious culinary debates. Who knew the virtues of fresh versus frozen peas could stir impassioned arguments?
And oh, the meditation retreat at the Seoul Zen Center earlier? That was a different kind of magic altogether. It felt like an art form in itself—there’s a certain beauty in just existing quietly alongside others amidst the gentle rustling of nature. I nearly drifted off mid-meditation, a testament to just how calming it was. At times like those, you really feel like a small pebble in a vast stream, just going with the flow.
Mi-young joined me for that as well, and during a quiet walk in the garden afterwards, we mused over how the retreat was akin to hitting a refresh button for our minds. The combination of silence and nature has this uncanny way of stripping back all the clutter, leaving you with a canvas of tranquility to paint thoughts on.
It’s intriguing to think about how we live through these diverse narratives daily, each serving as a little chapter in the ever-growing anthology that is life. From the Zen center to virtually preparing meals surrounded by digital chatter, it’s like sampling from the buffet of human experience. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie talked about the danger of a single story, and days like today are proof that we truly are woven from a tapestry of tales.
But hey! Remember how at the workshop, Mi-young could spin those swirling glass shapes? That’s where the real fun kicked in. We poked fun at the bizarre blob I managed to forge, joking about how modern art has nothing on our innovative mishaps. Honestly, I’m convinced there’s something special about watching an idea brew in your mind and slowly take form in front of your eyes, whether it’s on a plate or a glass-blown model.
We’ve always lived by the mantra that trying new things keeps the soul alive. And trust me, there’s something grounding about being caught between moments of mindful silence and bursts of laughter. Just when you think you’ve found a rhythm, life throws in a new beat and keeps the dance interesting.
Oh, I see what I did there, getting all poetic after today’s catch-up with Heejin about dance and art collabs. She’s been hitting up some crazy intriguing dance classes, and if anyone can turn cooking chaos into an inspired routine, it’s her.
I mean, just when I thought I’d experienced every creative high, that glassblowing workshop was something else entirely. You’d think it’d feel disconnected going from meditation’s serene vibes straight into the fiery world of molten glass, but somehow, it felt like carrying peace into chaos—or maybe it was finding peace within the chaos.
The fascinating part was how easily everyone blended into this mesmerizing dance with the glass. I swear, if you’d been there, you would’ve felt it too. Mi-young was a natural as always, adding this flair to her glass shapes like they were pulling the moves right out of her Tai Chi repertoire.
There’s something… exhilarating—a raw thrill in just being at the mercy of such a changeable medium. Each spin, twist, and pull of the molten glass was like invoking a tiny miracle. One moment, I was steadying a glowing orb, a heartbeat away from a great creation, and the next, watching it morph into an endearing blob of abstract… character. Trail-and-error, my friend, that’s the beauty of it all.
Also, fun fact: met this artisan named Kunwoo, full of anecdotes about his travels across Europe, sharing stories of learning glassblowing in obscure Italian workshops. He said something memorable, “Every piece of glass reflects its maker’s story,” and that resonated—like our lives pick up every experience and weave it into a unique pattern.
Oh, speaking of weaving experiences: while spinning away at that glass workshop, snippets of this morning’s meditation kept resurfacing. The quiet peace I carried from the Seoul Zen Center—all meditation and silent whispers—did wonders in keeping me calm in the face of heated creative endeavors. You know what they say, balance is key, and today felt like embodying that idea.
But hey, after turning our ideas—Mi-young’s artistic Tai Chi shapes and my nature-inspired glassy lumps—into reality, we stood there, a testament to how a day can shape and reshape you.
It’s a bit like that European cook-along earlier. Bringing the day full circle, we set out dishes not far different from our glassy feats—attempts that began with set educational goals and ended with pleasant if imperfect creations.
Throughout, I couldn’t shake the notion of culinary couture—Ashley and Hae’s whimsical ‘kitchen fashion’ idea. Imagining us all in fashion meets food gigs, draping risotto-styled scarves while side-stepping hurdles like soufflé collapses. It’s all these overlapping threads of exploration that keep our days so dynamic.
While chatting with everyone earlier in the group—you know, the usual tape of laughter and ideas—I realized that every intense conversation, be it about dance or digital artistry with Heejin and Emily, or even casual culinary challenges, feeds a shared vocabulary of creation. And hey, even Yuna was pondering dance moves inspired by kitchen chaos! The tangibility of these moments is the kind of narrative that sticks.
So here’s to sharing with the interesting combination of craftsmanship, culinary misadventures, and little Zen moments in the midst of bustling Seoul…
Anyway, chat later! I suspect more tales from today’s adventures will bubble up.
