We've all heard the story about the man, or woman, who goes out on a first date with someone they met online. The person doesn't look anything like their photos. They're either shorter than imagined, bigger, older—or all of the above. The anticipation of meeting their potential one true love is quickly diminished when they look right past the person into the crowd, thinking to themselves, He's gotta be here somewhere, only to see their actual date waving and calling them by name.
Drats.
Not who they were hoping for. And really... who wears Crocs on a first date?!
My colleague-friend had a must-have list that included her ideal candidate: family values, career, appearance, geography, build—you name it. She was approaching thirty and was looking to get married. Overall, her dates were very disappointing, but her stories were hilarious.
Like the one guy who moved seats halfway through a movie without telling her because he wanted to watch it from another vantage point. She simply thought he was taking a while in the bathroom. He didn't see anything wrong with not sitting next to his date.
Ba-bye.
Finally, I took things into my own hands and swiped right on her behalf one afternoon, ultimately finding her one true love—the guy she never would have swiped right on herself.
Why?
Because he was hugging a bear mascot in his profile picture.
Although she admitted it was better than holding a fish, she thought it was too "silly." I thought it was creative, funny, different—and definitely not Photoshopped.
She went out with him and, although she wasn't initially super attracted to his unconventional looks, she grew to like him very much, and they quickly fell in love.
They're married now.
Although he wasn't someone she would normally date, they got along wonderfully because there were no expectations. There was no pressure. She simply went with the flow. She could be herself; she wasn't trying to impress him.
The others—her so-called "type"—were boring, self-absorbed, unpredictable, or just plain weird.
This guy was unlike the rest of them, and it turned out he was exactly who she needed—and who needed her.
When I'm not matchmaking, I'm running a full-time art business.
I recently heard in the book The Three Beliefs of Ego that happiness exists in the absence of expectation.
It explains that when we're doing a task—regardless of what it is—while thinking about something happening later that day or the following week, we're imagining a future that may never exist. In doing so, we're missing the present moment—and missing out on the joy.
It's not to suggest that doing the dishes should make us happy. It's about being present. Putting our phone down while a partner or child is speaking with us. Enjoying the shower instead of dreading the long commute to work. Or perhaps imagining a romantic vacation with a partner that may not happen when we hope it will.
Whatever it is, imagining a reality that has yet to occur is essentially preparing ourselves for disappointment.
Think about a restaurant you've heard rave reviews about and have been yearning to try. You finally get a reservation, only to discover the service—and the food—were mediocre at best.
I mean, what chef messes up pasta?
And $16 for a cocktail?!
That's ridiculous.
But when you go into a situation open-minded, you're often pleasantly surprised.
At least that has been my experience.
Business is no different.
We are now approaching our third month of the Joyful Portal. Thus far, we have nearly fifty subscribers. I am so very grateful for every single one!
But when I go on social media and see new snail mail clubs with 2,000 sign-ups in their first six months, I can't help but think I'm doing something wrong.
Am I not posting enough?
Not telling enough people about it?
Not creating enough content?
Not sharing enough testimonials?
Despite thoughtfully curating the newsletter, researching the best recipes I can find, and offering other creative surprises—all while keeping it under the 30-gram limit ("The scales are federally calibrated, you know!")—I can't think of what else I can do to share my awesome mail club with the world.
Perhaps it's the theme.
Maybe it's the artwork.
Personally, I'm quite pleased with both.
Who can hate plants and flowers?
Likely a Crocs wearer.
I also opted for the highest-quality artist cardstock and even hired a print company to print and cut the artwork to save time and aggravation.
Perhaps when I launch my retro Gen X Mail Club, more people will eagerly sign up. (By the way, the artwork has already begun, and it's launching in 2027.)
I did get a sign-up from New Zealand (THANK YOU! You know who you are!), which was super exciting because it helps with my mission of sharing my art—and joyful news—with the world.
Along with my Canadian and American friends—and a couple of blokes over the pond—we are slowly gaining momentum.
Not the triple digits I was hoping for just yet, but we'll get there.
It's important to remind ourselves regularly that everything worthwhile takes time: making a delicious meal, finding the right career, saving for a home, having a baby, finishing college, finding a compatible partner, making good friends, building a community, and completing original artwork.
Nothing worthwhile can ever be rushed.
Which is why I'll happily continue creating beautiful art that I love and sharing my mail club—and these journals—with every single person who takes the time to appreciate and collect them.
If you've made it this far, I applaud you.
I hope it was worthwhile.
Creatively,
Julie
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