We're all searching. Searching for the one thing that will bring us our riches, the one thing that will be our destiny. The one thing that will finally be worth all the hard work, the trials and tribulations, that we can send out into the world and finally say we've made it.
I'm forever in that search, continually striving to find my golden ticket, my nugget of pure genius, my contribution. It's painful and frustrating. For years I've been searching and each time I think I've found it, the shiny excitement soon begins to fade and I'm back where I started - searching.
Food is the only continual theme, the connecting thread that yanks me back time and time again. Back and forth I go - between entrepreneurial ventures and steady day jobs. My intense desire to do something worthwhile bounces me back and forth between the two, never finding my true happiness. The number of busineseess I've had? The number of "jobs" I've had? I lost count a long time ago. But what I've never lost is the circular journey of always coming back to the question, "What do I want to do?"
I've consulted all the greats in the world of therapy, coaching, business. I've tracked my astrological charts and progressed Moons. I've read my weekly numerology, printing it out and pasting it in my journal full of my most lowest of lows and moments I'm convinced are the most epic I've ever encountered. They all say the same thing - "What do you love?" Um, food. "What would make you leap out of bed each morning?" Um, going shopping with an unlimited budget. "What do you always do that you can't stop yourself from doing?" Um, cook and eat and dive deeply into my own self to learn who I am.
"What would you create even if you knew you wouldn't get paid one penny for it?" That question posed to me by my bestie gal stopped me dead in my tracks. What would that be? I drew a total blank. I don't know, everything I've ever created has come from my masculine. A masculine determined to prove that I am good enough, that I can take care of myself, that I can be independent and that I can create my own wealth. Was any of it from my feminine? The center and source of true creation? Did my masculine ever stop to ask her what she wanted?
Washing the dishes this warm spring day, I began to look over everything I've ever created and I asked myself, "Would you create that even if you were never going to be paid for it?" Every answer was no. Would I create meal plans if I never got paid? No. Would I create private food coaching packages if I never got paid? No. Would I teach cooking classes if I never got paid? No. Would I create tele-seminars on food and nutrition if I never got paid? No. Would I create kitchen transition guides if I never got paid? No. On and on I went dropping deeper into my feminine until I said to her, "What would you do?" Without a moment's hesitation, before the masculine could jump in, she whispered sweetly but fiercely, "I . . . would write."