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Time, itself, is a creative process.
But the beautiful thing—I think, for this—is that the magic has happened once I stop listening to everybody else and what everything is telling me that I need to do, that I should do, and I start listening to the muse.
It is finding a way—how does your muse speak to you? And try to put yourself more in those situations.
A lot of it comes from somewhere that I have no idea what that is. And we can call it the muse, we can call it inspiration, we can call it our inner voice. But seriously, I feel like there's something else.
I just started filming girls that were friends of friends, and I recorded this audio. I was like, I'm just going to test this microphone. And so I tricked myself with little things like that, like I'm just going to do this little thing. And then things happen.
I remember writing this, "Dear universe: Thank you for sending me so many ideas. Now please send me the time and energy to make them happen."
If you're not on the edge of failure right now, you're probably not trying hard enough.
Silvia Ramírez, Gabe Zichermann y Eduardo López
What is the failure that you are most proud of?
It's important to not define universal standards of failure or success in a diverse culture.
The things that don't workout should receive as much celebratory attention as the things that do.
Every time you try to do something, fail at it.
You don't need sight to have a vision
Culture is not something you can put away on a shelf or try to freeze in time. It's about having a muscle memory, practicing it, and bringing it back into the world. Something you keep alive so that you're able to pass it on to the next generation.
In choosing food [...] it's really about recovering tradition, it's about changing painful narratives of loss and erasure into something that can be healing and restorative.
Worry less about authenticity and more about, 'Is this food good? Where is it going to take us next?'
You have to be okay with looking at tradition in the eye and sometimes bending it to where you are and when you are.
Is there a way that our foods can actually be part of this healing?
The stories that we hear or the stories that others tell about us can have the power to harm us or have the power to heal us.
Culture isn't static. Culture changes. We all knows this, but the question is, 'Who also gets to decide what is tradition or not?'
There are things that we love, but don't always love us back. What do you do with that?
You can pick one strand of a food and find an entire history embedded into it.
[Ask yourself,] 'What are the sides of my identity that I've been hiding from or don't want to look at?'
What we eat and how we eat reflects our individual histories and also something wider and collective.
This was the first time I had ever seen Filipino food or Filipino anything in print.
Wherever we went, our kitchen reflected our changes, with a mixture of flavors from here and there.
Can you recover the things that you were supposed to forget?