Of popcorn and milkshakes

Today I did something I believe can only be attributed to a need to nurture my inner child. I got a Frappuccino at Starbucks, brought it home, and popped some popcorn to go with it. Strange combination? Maybe. But for “Sweet Julie,” my inner child, it was like going home.

When I was growing up, our traditional Sunday night supper was popcorn and milkshakes in front of the TV while watching Lassie and The Ed Sullivan Show. My mom routinely made a large Sunday meal for right after church, which usually meant fried chicken with rice and gravy, etc., etc. So we were always pretty well stuffed from that, and she, having exhausted her desire to prepare food for the day, turned the feed-the-family duties over to my dad for Sunday supper. His solution? His specialties: popcorn, popped on the stovetop with an old-fashioned crank popper, and milkshakes, made with vanilla ice milk and Hershey’s chocolate syrup. (And no, the $4 Frappuccino and the microwave popcorn didn't even come close!) Some of my most powerful memories of childhood (as, I’m sure, were yours) were attended by flavors and smells of food, and the popcorn and milkshake nights are definitely way up there when I remember what it felt like to be a part of a family, have few worries, and be content. That dinner may not have been high in the nutritional department, but it was certainly high in the soul-nourishing department! Yes, the popcorn and milkshakes were delicious, but the family aspect of it was the real substance.

Normally, I do my best to avoid hydrogenated fats, sugar, and simple carbs of all kinds as I find they make my brain fuzzy and my body, not only fat, but lethargic, stiff and achey. Yucky stuff. But lately, I’ve noticed myself sliding on that count a lot. Inner children are natural rebels, I have found, and too many rules and restrictions and too much seriousness are the seeds of inner-child rebellion. So what was going on with me today that I needed to rebel from my dietary rules and recreate that feeling? Why was I needing to feel that sense of carefree contentment? That feeling of security, simplicity, and belonging? I’m not completely sure, but I’ve been dialoging with Sweet Julie to get some clues. I know that she feels overwhelmed with the amount of time I spend thinking about things that feel threatening to her. After all, she’s at least partly an ego entity, and I spend a lot of time thinking about and writing about rising above ego.

But I think even more germaine is that one of my inner child’s most consistent issues over the years is the yearning to fit in—to be considered “normal.” Well, that’s not ever really going to happen—at least, not to be considered “normal” in the duality matrix. But I spent the first several decades of my life trying to do just that. I have always known I was “different” in my thinking, but wanted desperately to be accepted—not to deny who I was, but to be accepted, if not because of who I was, in spite of it. I wanted the best of both worlds. But one of those worlds is getting more and more challenging to hang out in. The last couple of days brought exposure to the “outside world” and it was more of a challenge than it used to be—or maybe I have less tolerance for it right now. In my daily routine of semi-isolation, it’s so easy to shoot way up in frequency—so much so that relating to people that seem to be sleepwalking is hard. But the thing is, I can’t achieve what I came here to do—and neither can you—by exclusivity. I can’t expect inclusion from other Earthlings—can’t expect them to embrace me where I am, if I can’t feel inclusion myself—if I can’t fully embrace them where they are. After all—the whole point of this mission is to end separation and return to Oneness! Clearly, it’s easy to do this work in a vacuum. We could ascend tomorrow if we isolated ourselves and had the intention to do so. But we came here to lift up humanity, and as I’ve said so many times, “the yeast can’t raise the bread until its mixed into the dough.”

I’m sure with these recent experiences of not being able to relate as well to others, Sweet Julie has been feeling more alienated than ever, when what she wants is to feel acceptance—going both ways. What better metaphor for her than popcorn and a milkshake to say, “I want to be like everyone else. I want to feel a part of a warm, loving family. I want to go Home.” Oh, how happy she will be when there is a whole group of us hanging out together! Is it mid-May yet???!

(By the way, “Sweet Julie” was so named by the therapist I was working with when I first started intensively doing inner child work because she wanted me to stop thinking of my inner child with disgust, and figured if she named her “Sweet Julie,” it would be easier for me to love her. So that’s been her name ever since.)