Act 1 Scent 3: Golden Wrinkle
Updated: Aug 18
An unidentified self transformation ~
Our identity goes through many iterations and chapters of change. A process of transformation that often is unrecognizable when you look back at your humble beginnings. In many instances, I fear the challenge of the unknown, or possibly letting go the comfort of certainty.
A chronicle of the mid-chapters that ushered me into adulthood, can be traced to a familiar latitude and longitude—a place I call home. In the orchard of fruit trees, a particular mandarin orange tree stands above the rest. Harvesting since the Y2K era, this family tree is a living document of my growth and how far I’ve come.
During the Lunar New Year, mandarin oranges are ubiquitously spotted throughout the winter season. Not only does this soft tangy citrus captivate Asian households and festive gatherings, it also carries the heartfelt wishes of good fortune extended to others for the year ahead. Symbolizing luck and prosperity, even it‘s Cantonese pronunciation “柑” (gam) is a homophone for gold “金” (also pronounced gam).
Long after the harvest and consumption of the oranges, sunlight is used to preserve the mandarin peels, (陳皮 pronounced chanpei). What may seem secondary in culinary impact, the sweet and bitter fragrant peels facilitate digestion, aid circulation, and promote immunity. Many from our generation have continued with this practice and integrate these nutritional benefits in Asian dishes like congee.
The art of preserving the dried peels as a source of renewal shares a similar theme to the findings and lecture teachings of Cambridge professor, Sir James George Frazer, where he explored the various civilizations that believed in renewal and immortality. According to one of the legends told by the Melanesians of the New Hebrides, there is the belief that shedding of the old skin enables an emergence of anew. However, what prevented the promise of immortality was the fear of no longer being recognized by their loved ones.
Having grown old, this dame went to a stream to change her skin, and change it she did, for she stripped off her wizened old hide, cast it upon the waters, and watched it floating down stream till it caught on a stick. Then she went home a buxom young woman. But the child whom she had left at home did not know her and set up such a prodigious squalling that to quiet it the woman went straight back to the river, fished out her cast-off old skin, and put it on again.
— Sir James George Frazer, The Belief in Immortality and the Worship of The Dead
This fear of shedding mirrors my own struggles with moving towards a new chapter in life. A figment of my imagination stuck on discouraging thoughts of selfishness, abandonment of those dear to my heart, and an unrecognizable uncertainty. As a result, I was a shadow of my former self, and my emotional landscape was scattered with pools of guilt and regret.
Unwilling to shed what others were clinging to, I no longer recognized who I was. I held on to my peel intact as long as possible without living my full potential in life, a hindrance to my personal immortality towards harmony. Eventually through life’s dark trials and tribulations, I decided to climb the beanstalk towards the emerging light and leave my deeply rooted peel behind.
Embracing the rays of sunlight that brushed against my newly exposed skin, my once hallow pupils fertilized with clarity and purpose, and shed was a bittersweet memory preserved with time. What I learned from my current journey is not the yearly harvest that defines us, it’s how we overcome the harvest year where the low-hanging fruit is absent and risk it all with bravery. The peel is meant to come off to free the harmonic fruits of who we are and…
...to be truly seen.
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