I found this book in my local bookstore more than a year ago, and have read it over and over since then. Its by a twenty-nine year old woman who promises to cook every recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year, and then blogs about it. Julie Powell's writing is very funny and she portrays her family and friends as the complicated human beings they undoubtedly are. Some of the best parts are when she extrapolates little vignettes from the life and letters of Julia Child. They are totally made up, but a wonderful description of the version of Julia that Julie carries in her head and considers a mentor, even though she has never actually met her. The essence of Julia that Julie shares in her book strikes right through my heart every time:
"Julia taught me that what it takes to find your way in the world. It's not what I thought it was. I thought it was all about - I don't know, confidence or will or luck. Those are some good things to have, no question. But there's something else, something that these things grow out of.
It's joy.
I know, I know - it's truly an obnoxious word, isn't it? Even typing it makes me cringe. I think of either Christmas cards or sixty something New Agey women in floppy purple hats. And yet it's the best word I can think of for the heady, nearly violent satisfaction to be found in the text of Julia's first book. I read her instructions for making bechamel sauce, and what comes through is that here is a woman who has found her way."
Finding my way has been a lifelong effort for me, and I never get tired of stories about how other people find theirs. In another part of her book, Julie talks about going down the rabbit hole, and that image has always evoked the "way" to me. (Do you think Lewis Carroll invented the image in Alice in Wonderland, or just made use of an archetype we all carry?) Discovering the meaning of one's own life means diving down beneath the surface and allowing previously unsuspected predilections and feelings to carry the day. You have to discover your own oddness, and allow it to take over. And, my experience shows me that you have to do it again and again, because the original "way" , although never false, is only the first step.
My first big dive came when I went back to get a BFA in design. I did it because I was so unhappy with the kind of jobs I held after graduating the first time with a BA in history. They were all office jobs of overarching boredom in insurance or manufacturing. I saw no future for myself there and spent all of my time reading home decorating magazines. Making the leap to interior design as a possible career was really scary because I didn't have any background in art, but I knew within a month of enrolling in our local art school that I had finally found where I was supposed to be. I loved school, every bit of it, even though it took another four full-time years to get through it and I changed to graphic design on the way. Actually, school was way more fun and exciting than work once I graduated and started to freelance. I still think wistfully of the challenges, competition and satisfaction afforded by my education in art. The whole experience, starting with the decision to go, was like the sun pouring through a gap in the clouds, illuminating the path that was mine.