EQ Therapeutic: Dear Diary 3/3/2020

It is not our enemies that defeat us, it is our fears.

Dear Diary,

It's Tuesday, March 3rd 2020 -- I'am inside a portal with a Uroboros over the threshold. I've gathered plenty of valuable references to adorn my forward-movments: complementary&complimentary; as it's all about one's quality of Imagineering, daring to hope for that which is not yet seen, and the enormous opportunities that rest within one's realms of R&R (rest, relaxation, restoration, rejuvenation, respectful reciprocity, revitalizing recipes).

Julie&Julia is a love-letter inside a film, based upon the book of the same title by Julie Powell. It's an opportunity to experience (genuine) young-love, unique maturity-continuum, serendipitous synchronicity, and mystical, successive wisdom-building (aka lifelong learning).

Yesterday I took my very first step toward an extra-ordinary item upon my Bucket List: learning to fluently speak  French. At the present, I'am completely and utterly intimidated. So, as I prepare to meet&greet the threshold of my early 50s (in two years) -- this incredible feat carries the weight of Julia Child learning and bringing French cuisine to the American public, and Julie Powell tackling a mountain of Julia Child signature'd recipes (524 to be exact) and striving to write and publish her experiences. Both whom refused to stop striving until they faced-off with the version of their 'future-self' that danced like sugar-plums (or haunted like sorrows) inside the corridor between their head-and-heart. So-much-so, I often wonder how/when their ultimate-version initially revealed itself to offer the invitation (the silent call to venture into The Wild Unknown).

When one gets the invitation to journey into The Wild Unknown -- is it promised that there shall be no complications, life altering challenges, mis-takes, and or mistakes? Shucks, the way I see it, to accept such a seemingly precarious invitation pretty much guarantees a signature-cocktail of heart-breaks, insecurity-triggers, shadows of doubt, emotional roller coasters, and varying degrees of darkened, silent, solo missions. Mostly as if Destiny refuses to relinquish any one's fortunes of 'future self' without vetting and validating one's worthiness and durability. 

I'd be remiss if I didn't quote my most-favorite passage (in the form of a blog post) in the Film -- I've been thinking about me and Julia, she was a secretary for a government agency, and I'am too. A really nice guy married her, a really nice guy married me. Both of us were lost, and both of us was saved by food in some way or another -- so major overlap, but let's face it, I'am not Julia Child. Julia Child never lost her temper just because something boiled over, or collapsed in the over, or just plain fell through. And she was never horrible to her husband, I'am sure, and she never behaved like, "Who has time to be married", which is how I behave sometimes I'am sorry to say. I wish I were more like her. She deserved her husband and I don't. That's the truth. Well anyway, that's the truth for now...

Upon so many levels I've identified with this passage, and upon other I do not. Food plus many other things, like writing, communing within my Imagination, and hosting intriguing conversations with young-folk saves me. And even though I no longer have a husband, I haven't lost my familiarity with the elemental(s) of the experience. And since having crossed the threshold into The Wild Unknown -- it's been a long while since I've felt overwhelmingly secure; socially. My truth is -- I deserve to be more like the 'future me'. I deserve to continue gathering the experiences that master my therapeutic-relations with words-in-print, an array of the arts, indie-music, and creative-cuisine -- alongside the cultivation, reconciliation, preservation, and initiation of relationships with those I'am destined to support, affirm, teach with, learn from, and sponsor.

To celebrate her accomplishment of completing all 524 recipes and for not prematurely losing faith in herself -- Julie invited friends over to experience the very last dish on the list. And, she made a very special toast to her husband, "You are the butter to my bread; the breath to my life."  Of course, those that intimately understand the power-of-couples know, to bear witness to such a heart-felt testament is tear-jerking! I look forward to rendering a similar toast, but in honor of my (finally) meeting the future version of Me. Because surely, I'd never want to be confronted by it one day, solemnly expressing, "You don't even know that I exist".