This particular spot in the west end of Vancouver was the former home of a raucous and martini mad, memory making restaurant called Delilah’s. It’s inevitable that any restaurant that takes this space will invite gregarious fun. I think it soaked into the walls years ago and no redecorating or modern twist of velvet on the half moon banquette can quite erase those marvelous days of decadence and loose libations. Naturally we had to order martinis, and my expectations were high.
Adesso did not disappoint. The Vespa, a Gin/Vodka lemon twist mix with Lillet (a French aperitif that I had never heard of), wowed us. Gorgeous, we proclaim raising glasses and adjusting our volume to rise above the clamor. This is not your romantic whispery night spot. The place is bouncing with conversation and yelling is essential if you want to be heard, especially during table cross talk. There are times I would find this annoying but this is a birthday, a 50th and this particular table of souls are no wall flowers.
So the games begin. You would think Sandra Bernhard herself was in our midst with the flavor leaning toward witty fencing and adventures in human frailty. I admire Sandra’s realness and last night felt everyone was willing to wear their true colors. I shared stories of past faux pas I made and liked and we rolled with waves of laughter not to mention numerous desserts.
Our birthday friend opened her presents and read her cards, touched by the love surrounding her, a heart combination of history and understanding. Tribes form in the oddest of configurations.
I am thinking about 50 and all that involves.
There is a kind of directive, it seems to me, particularly relevant to this decade, to step out of seeking to get from the world and directly into the path of giving. The question is no longer what do I need to do to fulfill myself but rather what am I being called to give to feel my full radiance and purpose…to feel my passion.
The idea of being or getting eye candy is losing its glow. It is time to let go of this youthful way of defining ourselves. We are all heading in the same direction, willingly or not and an over attachment to looks is just not on the menu of awakening and consciousness.
Its time for language that reflects this essential transition. So if we are to give up eye candy what do we replace it with. I was fond of that term I admit, fun, flirty...no wait, I am giving it up!
So here is my attempt to live up to a label I can actually aspire to being.
The term eye broccoli comes to mind.
Yes, eye broccoli!
Eye candy is concerned with how things look.
Eye broccoli is concerned with substance and nourishment.
Eye candy tastes great in the moment, fades quickly and can leave residual damage not to mention cavities that ache for ages after the thrill is gone.
Eye broccoli can smell funny at first and many protest an initial dislike but toast some walnuts or toss it with sesame oil and there is a depth of nourishment that no buff six pack can hold a candle to. Well at least not in the long run.
Marked by time with a well earned core strength that stems from adversity and a refusal to cave to appearances, a man or women described as eye broccoli has learned to accept all parts of self, shadow and light.
Eye broccoli chooses to know its goodness even as it invites a bold acceptance of its primal vegetable or in this case human nature.
Rather than looking good, the focus is on being good, giving good, radiating good.
And not by following the rules of the mask with shoulds and shouldn’ts devised by a fear based world to find safety in the defense of pretending , but rather in an authentic way that is in touch with the truth of your Essence.
And quite simply…that is good.
I am officially introducing Eye Broccoli as a spiritual term for enlightenment. I never liked that word enlightenment.
But eye broccoli, I can work with…nourishing… filling and good for self, those around us and the planet. Let’s all get old glowing with this expanded sense of self acceptance.
Broccoli would.
And self-acceptance is it's own unique sense of pretty.
Branded by birthdays… and broccoli…
Authentically Yours,
Marty
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