I like bringing metaphorical food to the metaphorical potluck table. This fact has been true ever since I was young—I really liked sharing things that I create, and if it resonated with others, even better. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I've come a long way, and I've had different experiences with different potluck tables, and the way I approach this act of sharing used to be very different, from now and the past.
In the past, I would consider myself a powerhouse—I'd make food, on the daily, to bring to the table. Still a beginner of the craft, a young spark, but it was determined to find a place to belong. I'd wait and watch patiently for someone to try a nibble, and soak up all the affirmations of "I love your food, this is great, you should make more!"—Like a lifeline. A reason to keep going. In the periods where I'd put this food out, get none of these comments, I'd spiral into a web of doubt: Did they not like it? Was the food stale? Did I drop in quality? (Multiple times, thought, "what's the purpose of bringing food to the table if no one's gonna tell me what they think?")
I've taken a more laid-back approach to potlucks now. I'd show up, place the food, and while I do wait to see if anyone approaches it, I don't linger too long. I've realized that, over the years of cooking, of sharing, my quality has improved drastically—to the point where I can say I'm happy with the taste of what I created. Realized, as well, that I couldn't have gone this far without all the kind people that affirmed me, every step of the way. Clung on to it like a lifeline, maybe, but it came at a time where the lifeline was needed, where I was vulnerable, and in the end, I didn't sink when I easily could've. If anything, that encourages me to do the same to others—so easily, fellow creatives can fall into a state of sinking, the spiral that nothing they create is worth, and the last thing I'd want to happen is sit there and do nothing to at least prevent that from happening.
I try to engage with the potluck more now. I eat other people's food, find its best qualities, and tell them about it. My goal is to do this on and on until it someday becomes a habit. Simultaneously, I realized how I don't need to cling so tightly to that lifeline anymore to continue creating. Putting food on the table is a communal sharing activity, yes, but I've found other ways to get that hit: carving a space for myself, visiting multiple potlucks instead of just one, putting different things for the same potlucks or even just enjoying the food myself.
To a certain extent, I've come to peace—peace with the fact that even if you may never know the impact of what you bring to others, there's at least comfort in knowing that you've gradually gotten better at what you create. That there are many different outlets. People having different food preferences, or people preferring to enjoy their food quietly, isn't an indicator that yours is bad. But, despite it all, I strive to keep engaging with what others bring to the table. I try to leave comments. I try to not stop creating. Because while I may never know how my comments or the act of sharing my craft may affect others in their own journey, it certainly encourages a younger me to keep going, and hopefully in this, I can return the favour.
(This post is about creating and sharing art.)