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identity.

each person has an elemental that protects them. fire burns, wind runs, water overwhelms and earth resists. fire hurts the other person and tortures itself. wind escapes and loses itself. water floods the other but submerges itself. earth delays change and refuses to cooperate. these are not the identity. they protect the “i am,” the true nature of the person inside.

each of us, we long for what is ours. for what belongs and for where we belong. just like fire wants the truth, wind wants possibility, water wants to flow and earth wants what will bloom. there are so many ways to seek and be distracted. but the crisis arrives when we cannot distinguish what belongs to us and what does not. when we want to belong to the person, place or idea that has disappeared or been destroyed or changed irrevocably. when we want the relationship between what we desire and the thing that’s ours to be that of identity.

and after decades of eating out of everyone else’s lunchbox, we’ve already had the first three bites of every cuisine, sampled cultures and food stories from around the world. but the hunger persists and now we just want what’s ours: what actually nourishes us, and does not turn our stomach. we want our own lunchbox. the one with our name printed clearly on it, black text on white, in all caps, with a label-maker. and our favorite flavor is vanilla. or chocolate. or strawberry. because we know what it is now.