April Newsletter: The Comfort Paradox

The hardest balance to find as an adult is our biological need for both safety and adventure. What if the key is to redefine our comfort zones to include the things that propel us forward?

You can’t have rainbows without rain

As humans we are designed to seek comfort, and having comfort zones is essential for our nervous system. The hardest balance to find as an adult is our biological need for both safety and adventure. This paradox applies to everything, from the things we want in a partner, the risks we wish to take in our professional work, the health goals we want to achieve, and especially to the courage needed for those of us pursuing creative endeavors.

As I entered my 40s, a series of life events challenged my comfort zone. In the same two-year span, I had a second baby, quit my job to start my first business, moved cities, and lost my last living parent. I had all but survived the latest years of my life, and all of a sudden, I wanted to live very differently. I knew it was time to abandon a series of numbing and comforting tools I had leaned on for decades. I didn’t know where to begin, but I knew that I was ready, and that somehow everything was about to change.

Some might call this crossroads a midlife crisis. I call it, my midlife awakening. For the first time, I was more more afraid of not trying than I was of failing.

What came next were a series of unrelated decisions, over time, that stretched my discomfort muscle repeatedly. The first incredibly uncomfortable thing I did was put myself on camera to launch The Carioca Kitchen and find my creative voice again. Our inaugural video never saw the light of the day, and the outtakes include me sipping the cooking wine so that I could somehow speak to a camera (thank you Tia Vera for teaching me to never cook with bad wine). In my personal life I was one-by-one reevaluating my diet, my exercise routine, and most notably, my alcohol consumption. Slowly, I became consistent with little changes, and even more slowly, these changes became habits. I was unknowingly redesigning my comfort zone to include things that moved me in the direction I wanted to go.

One of my favorite graphics of all time.

In my latest, almost literal, dive into discomfort, I decided that at age 41, I was finally going to surf. I took a lesson while on vacation in Oahu, but my intention was for this to be more than a tourist’s dream come true to stand up on a board. Last week I gripped my steering wheel during the whole scenic drive to Half Moon Bay, put on my first wetsuit and braved my first surfing session in the frigid Pacific. I fell more than I stood. My biggest takeaway wasn’t in the form of surfing advancement. It was in remembering that fulfillment and joy also come in making the effort, not just in the outcome.

Actual progress in surfing will require spending a lot more time in discomfort and finding some form of consistency. In light of all that adulting demands of us, it’s enormously challenging to prioritize things that seem disposable. At the same time that the ocean was calling me, my inner voice questioned my sanity and sense of responsibility in taking time away from my business to surf. “Am I having a midlife crisis?” I wondered. In the aftermath, I understood that the voice was my fear, the same fear that made all the excuses to keep me in an unproductive comfort zone for a long time. And as I drove home with salty hair and my feet still struggling to defrost, I was so glad I’ve learned to quiet it.

The day after my surf session I decided to try the Komuso my sister gifted me, a breathing necklace inspired by 17th century monks in Japan who used a similar tool to meditate. I opened the brochure that it came with, and I kid you not, inside was this quote:

When in doubt, read the signs. What is meant for you, will keep calling until you are ready. And when you’re ready, delight in the discomfort.

With love,

Camille

I am an aspiring minimalist and champion of things analog, but with intention, we can surround ourselves with objects and content that pull us into upward spirals in our daily life. This section is for things that made me happier this month.

• I will be on a podcast episode launching May 17 for the new season of Good is What Makes you Feel Well. Anna Resende is a gem in picking stellar guests for this podcast that explores our messy journey to optimal wellness. The episodes alternate between Portuguese and English speaking guests (mine is in english).

• I was lucky enough to wear some of the most beautiful outfits by Balaco Rio on our trip to Oahu. This post has a coupon code for the brand and this post has a curated list of where to go on your next island visit.

• This Banana Bread recipe by my friend in sourdough baking @eatpaobakery

• Browse my Wish List on The Carioca Kitchen shop for Mother’s Day gifts.

• Speaking of Mother’s Day, I will be hosting a Pop Up Shop at Wente Vineyards for their Mother’s Day event. Explore vendors, enjoy food trucks, and of course, sip delicious wine at this family friendly event.

• I’ve made a new spring style edit on Shop My based on this Instagram post where I celebrate wearing all the flowers.

• I got to try clean beauty brand Souvie and loved incorporating this sustainable Brazilian brand into my routine. Souvie US is available through YUS, a website dedicated to Brazilian designers. Use code Camille15 for 15% off.

The Lucky Visit: A Gnocchi Memoir

I always walked the long hallway from the elevator to my grandmother’s door with great anticipation. Her apartment was a small one-bedroom in a high rise in the Botafogo neighborhood of Rio. She had a tiny shotgun kitchen with no counter space at all and the dining table served as her work surface. This is often where I found her when I arrived. I scanned the table for flour dustings or other evidence that would indicate she was about to make my gnocchi dreams come true. Thankfully, this would often be the very dish in the works, especially if I visited on the 29th, the monthly date to try your luck with a Gnocchi da Fortuna.

Her gnocchi was unlike any other I have eaten until this day. She rolled thumb size pieces of dough by hand and allowed each gnocchi to retain natural lumps from her process. Knowing what I know now about cooking, I suspect this was purposeful for gripping her sauce, a magically simple blend of tomatoes cooked down with lots of garlic, and transformed into silk after a finish through a sieve. This last step ensured a child’s true delight in enjoying it.

After lunch, we would retreat for a TV break. While most ladies of her generation would tune a “novela” at this hour, my grandmother was a 2nd generation Italian and she preferred to watch Rai TV, the Italian channel. I did not understand Italian but it felt rude to eat and leave, so I would keep her company and occasionally a cookie would appear if I lingered long enough.

Since my grandmother passed, her gnocchi is lost in memory along with those afternoons at her house. I have not been brave enough to take her incomplete recipe scribblings to try and replicate it. I’m sure I could make a gnocchi with tomato sauce, but I don’t think it will ever be the same enjoyed anywhere else, without the Rio afternoon heat swelling into the window of that Botafogo high-rise.

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