The Turmeric Clause

Earlier this week

Sigh. Well, it does not look like I am going to get to the gym today, but at least I’d finished a first draft of this proposal. Might as well tackle some other projects on my to-do list, but before that, I’m going to need a snack. Lunch was ages ago, so it would need to be a substantive snack. Hmmm…I know! Instant oatmeal! (Hey, it’s easy and creates minimal dishes.)

Pull out a bowl and set it on the kitchen counter. Pour in instant oatmeal and add some raisins. Now for a sprinkling of turmeric and cinnamon. (Very exciting, I know. Instant oatmeal in Japan does not come pre-flavored.)

Unscrew the cap with my right hand. Hold the glass bottle over the bowl and tap, tap with my fingers to sprinkle—

All of a sudden, the bottle is on the floor, an earthy smell is tickling my nose, and there is turmeric all over the counter, floor, and wall.

(If you don’t know what turmeric is, it is a vivid yellow spice that seems really gorgeous until you’ve stained your clothing with it. Or your kitchen wallpaper. Hey, I did not choose to put wallpaper in the kitchen. We are renting. But seriously. Who puts wallpaper in a kitchen?!)

This was not a cleanup that could wait. (Not if we have any hope of getting our deposit back.)

This was also not a thing that was one of my timeboxes nor on my to-do list.

Today

You know what else is never on our to-do list or our neatly timeboxed schedule? Sick days (for you, your kid, or anyone else you’re a caregiver for) or internet outages or sleepless nights or that seemingly minor life administrative task that took about 12x longer than you originally thought it would because every time you completed one step, you discovered three more prerequisites. Or those emails that you get when you’re your own IT administrator notifying you that tool you use all the time just decided they were going to sunset some function you (and perhaps only you?) use all the time.

Such is life.

So while we can allow margins for circumstances we know about—like, that we’ll be jetlagged after coming back from vacation, or that we need to finish work early to go to a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, or that our partner has a business trip and we’ll be solo parenting next week—how often do we even do that for ourselves?

And if we’re not doing that, we are DEFINITELY NOT allowing margins for things like exploding turmeric all over your kitchen. (Exploding may be hyperbole, but I really don’t know how my finger taps turned what was supposed to be a dusting of turmeric into a party-of-one Holi celebration.) Which, to be fair, is not an emergency by any means. Nor is it all that important. But it is one of those things that will become a bigger and more ongoing mess if you don’t deal with it immediately.

So, I hereby introduce to you The Turmeric Clause:

I shall not hold myself responsible for failure or delay in performing any obligation or duty when such failure or delay is caused by or results from causes beyond my reasonable control, including but not limited to being a human with a body, being actually responsible for taking care of humans or other living beings, having emotions, vastly underestimating a task’s level of effort because I’ve never done it before, vastly overestimating my capacity because I am a people pleaser or a novice or just because I am still working on that whole asking for help thing, being in relationship with people who have bodies and emotions, failures of systems not designed for actual humans, successes of systems that actually were designed to oppress people, or, you know, things like exploding turmeric all over my kitchen.

However, I shall hold myself accountable for building in some amount of margin into my life because even if the exact circumstances or timing cannot be predicted, where there be turmeric (or humans), there will be sh*t hitting the something I wasn’t planning on that I will need to deal with. This margin may consist of time, budget, brain capacity, energy reserves, friends, chocolate, or other resources and lifelines. I owe it to myself to acknowledge the circumstances beyond my reasonable control, to release any guilt or misplaced responsibility I’ve been taking on, and to adjust my margins as I learn—so that I can do the things I need and want to do.

What does this look like in practice? Right now, I’m starting with scaling back the amount of work I plan for in a given week. If I have time and space to do more, great! (There is always more.) For me, certain things help give me the brain capacity and energy, so prioritizing the consistency of those practices more than I have been will also give me more margin to tackle the unexpected.

What does building in a margin for yourself look like in practice? I’d love to hear about your version of The Turmeric Clause! And if that feels challenging but like something that would be useful for you, we can talk about that.

Many thanks to my coach, Pam Daghlian, for coining the phrase “The Turmeric Clause” after I told her the story of spilling turmeric all over my kitchen.