TO THE MOON - Who Is Coming With Me?
TO THE MOON
Who Is Coming With Me?
If you follow me on Instagram, closely, you may know (or suspect) that I’ve been working things out to reopen Pure Food and Wine and One Lucky Duck in their original location, even adding space (as I’d always wanted to do years ago) to make them bigger.
They are coming back.
I don’t think it’s just my own opinion that the potential of this relaunch is… kind of limitless? Not to mention, an epic comeback story.
I am ready—and cannot wait—to rebuild.
However:
At the end of the-docuseries-I-don’t-like-naming-because-fuck-that-title, I was asked whether I would want to reopen the businesses one day. I answered:
“I would just be glad for it to exist again. It’s hard to imagine exactly how that would happen. I’m not in a position where I can ever go ask somebody for investment. Like, I just can’t. I can’t do that. I just can’t ask anybody for anything ever again.”
Given what really happened, my feeling that way makes sense.
Therefore, I’ve felt extremely lucky to have been approached again and again by people interested to invest in whatever I’m doing next. Thank you. It’s felt good. I’ve thought: YES, thank you, I can be spared! I will avoid the extreme vulnerability and pain of having to ask anyone to support me in this. I will avoid being emotionally put back in a place that feels traumatically like the years that dark man had a vice grip on my soul, a time of fear and terror, humiliating myself, while trying to save it all.
But also, it has to be the right people.
***
Quick recap: Prior to that man’s showing up in my life, the business was successful and poised to expand. After he showed up, it was taken down. (Precisely how, in all the gory detail, is in my upcoming memoir). When it first closed in 2015, it was the mission of my life to get it back up and running—it felt existential. I had to get it back, not for me but for everyone. I could have laid down and died after, I just had to get it running and alive again. And I did.
The relief was massive. But short-lived. Because he was still there. I wasn’t yet free of him.
To go through all I did to save that business, only for him to take it (and me) down again, was the most harrowing and dark nightmare-within-an-existing-nightmare that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It was also publicly humiliating—in a gut-shredding kind of way—because it was reported as if I had “run off” or “fled.” As if I had willfully abandoned the thing that meant the most to me in the world, allowing it to be destroyed, again.
(If anyone doubts this: when he took me away, he also took me away from my dog Leon, from whom I’d remain separated for six months—so: I did not go willingly).
***
Today, all that’s in the past. It’s over. (Though I still carry the debts which remain on me to settle). Healing from what happened has been the work of the last… [does math]… seven or eight years (holy shit).
That healing work was necessary. It got me here.
Everything is now teed up to bring it back. The brand people loved, the restaurant, the products, all of it and more. Better than ever.
It’s crucial that it returns in the right way. With the right energy.
***
Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to get away with this being easy. If it had been easy, I’d have avoided confronting what are probably my deepest fears and insecurities, even after all the healing I’ve done: the introspection, the reading and learning and analyzing, discovering and awakening, and writing. Either we are never healed (it’s a lifelong process) or we’ve always been healed (the process is just figuring that out). Either way. I’m writing this now to post publicly because I think that, for some reason, I’m meant to.
Oddly, there’s safety in all this transparency, even if it feels extremely personal, and scary. Even if some may judge it as way TMI.
What are those lingering fears and insecurities? That I’m not worth it. I don’t deserve good things. There’s something inherently wrong with me such that I deserve to be punished. I’m bad. I’m a failure. Can anyone relate? Or is it just me?
What predators (and cult leaders) grip onto is from our subconscious, which is why we don’t see it happening. The strings of our snuffed-down unhealed wounds (which they’re diabolically good at detecting) are what they use to do their puppeteering.
When they find someone who also has admirable qualities like tenacity, passion, idealism, and tangible assets, they’ve struck gold. They want the person who’s strong enough to not give up. I was that person. I’m still that person, but I see it now, and how it was used against me. Now, I’m awake.
Now I’m here to be exposed and vulnerable, yet deliberately, relentlessly, and on my terms.
Meanwhile, people have repeatedly referred to me as a goose that’s laid only golden eggs. I’m told there’s not a bad bone in my body. I know I’m a good human, with good intentions. So, why do I hold onto those other fears and insecurities?
Maybe I’m letting them go, now.
***
Why did I title this “To The Moon”?
Story time:
In my consciousness certain memories are seared into permanence. I may not recall the year, or time of year, what happened before or after, who else was there, etc. Rather, what’s been etched onto the cave wall of my inner skull are the words someone said along with the indelible impression of how I felt in that moment.
One of these instances occurred during a conversation with two older gentleman diners at Pure Food and Wine, many years ago—probably 2009 or 2010. I don’t recall their names. One I’ll call Roger. He was tall, and a handwriting expert, the kind that testifies in court cases. His dinner companion was his friend whom I’ll call Phil. Phil was short and a highly successful businessman of some kind. I’d only just met them, but they were engaging, and I was fascinated by the handwriting analysis, curious what my own penmanship revealed about me. Roger may have analyzed my handwriting, for fun, but that’s not the part that stood out.
It was later, on their way out. I’d walked them out in front of the restaurant. It was a balmy, beautiful night. They asked about my future plans for the business—a subject that always perked me up—and I spoke animatedly about my visions, why they were important, and also made good business sense. I walked them around the corner to point out the One Lucky Duck takeaway storefront. Phil kept diverting me, asking distracting questions that were beside the point, or inserting comments about himself. But Roger listened to me attentively.
As we stood on the sidewalk, Phil rambled on about who knows what. Meanwhile, Roger looked impatient and frustrated. Finally, he interrupted Phil to say the words I remember so well: “Phil!” he near shouted, “Don’t you see? Can’t you see it? All she needs is someone to back her up, and she’s going to take this to the moon!” as he shot his long arm straight up, pointing to the sky, where I’d like to think the moon was visible, observing this conversation.
I felt a rush of gratitude for Roger. He sees me. He gets it. Thank you, Roger.
End of story. (That one at least).
***
I never saw them again, but the point of all that was that moment of knowing. I knew Roger was right. I knew I was meant to take this to the moon.
The thing is, I was overwhelmed back then. I wore too many hats. I was in personal debt from a prior relationship with a man who’d allowed me to funnel my personal funds—money I’d earned and invested while working at Bain Capital years earlier—and more, into his businesses (Yes, Mr. Fox of that Netflix show wasn’t my first, or last, time at the psycho rodeo). Years later, even while Pure Food and Wine and One Lucky Duck were successful, I was personally drained. I needed a break yet felt unable to take one. What I needed was the right partner, yet the wrong sort kept showing up, distracting me and draining my energy.
All the while, I wouldn’t sell out, despite at least one attempt to force me. After that I only grew more intensely protective of it all. If I’d compromised with the wrong partner, it may have guaranteed me a big, comfortable salary but I’d have been trading the integrity (and future longevity) of the brands. I couldn’t do it then, can’t do it now. I would not abandon that business, the brands, for my own personal gain—so you see why it was extra painful to have been portrayed that way, and that things on the surface made it look that way?
***
Why has my road been so bumpy? With that bumpy road leading to a fiery crash that put me in jail, so I could then be the subject of a misguided “docuseries” labeling me as “bad.” I’m not asking in a victim-y way. I’m asking because I know there’s a reason. Just as the moment I was sentenced to jail, I knew there was a reason for it. There’s always a reason.
In post-crash interviews, I was asked if I’d ever want to get back into the restaurant/food business, and my response was always the same: I had no desire to get back into that business unless it was the same one in the same space. I was afraid to even hope that it could ever happen, but always had a nagging sense that it just might.
I knew the space had never been permanently occupied, at least not all of it.
Over a year ago, I almost got it back, but the circumstances weren’t right, not yet.
If my life was a movie, it would be as if some force—dramatized via darkness and gloomy music—kept knocking me down, and then I’d get myself back up and pow, it happened again. Why?
Because there was more inner work to do? So that I would sink to the very bottom of the murky ocean, find and reconcile my “shadow”? Do inner-child meditations through which I rebuild trust and belief in myself? Does this sound cheesy? Maybe, but fuck it. Maybe it was necessary to realize that all the people telling me the only thing holding me back was my insufficient belief in myself, had a point. As if to prove this, just now in a WhatsApp conversation somewhat related to all this, I received the following text: “The power is all yours.”
Is it?
How do I reclaim it?
***
Apparently, I have balls of steel.
These past few months there’s been a lot of forward movement, the kind from which there’s no turning back. Over the past year, multiple times I thought I’d found the right partners, only to realize, Oh… this isn’t right. And I’ve had to back away. I’ve also had to take the hit because I’m very aware that it can look like the problem is me.
If you’ve ever tangled with “narcissists,” and if you have it’s likely happened repeatedly, you know that from the outside it can appear that you’re the difficult one. But we’re not difficult, just good targets. And no, I’m not blaming others for my circumstances. Just speaking words that probably resonate to many out there. (If you know you know.)
Last year, three different people described me in the following ways:
Debilitatingly Sincere, Adorably Vulnerable, Catastrophically Trusting.
Am I? I wrote these phrases down after I heard them because… really? I mean, if that’s how I’m perceived, I should be really fucking careful. My friend Jesse (who called me catastrophically trusting) says, “You assume that people operate with the same good faith with which you operate. That’s not how the world works.”
Fuck. But at least I’ve been learning. And, critically, I’m quick to see it and correct it now.
The title of this section is also true. I am brave.
Just after Leon passed away in July, grieving had to wait because I had to rush to draft and sign a Letter of Intent for the restaurant space at Irving Place to keep from losing it, and come up with funds for a deposit, for attorneys, etc. I did so with some help (you know who you are) and then raised initial pre-deal funding to get this whole thing going. (Pre-deal funding converts at a discount into the larger deal when executed). That person is great (again, Hi, you’ll read this, thank you!). I committed to doing this, even though I’d yet to work out the details. I plowed forward and got all this done because, fears and all, I have certainty. I know.
Since then, I’ve chosen the right contractor, one who fits this project. I have proposals from architects. Engaged an expeditor, sorted out permitting requirements, identified an opening manager/director of operations, spoken to former staff about coming back, I’ve got the model, deck, documents, etc. I am ready.
I got it all started. This is all happening. It’s just a matter of finalizing who is coming along.
***
How this is fueled matters.
With all the people who’ve approached me, some of whom I’d spoken with at length, met in person, and some of whom expressed an interest not just in investing but possibly doing all of it—Um, okay. Well, sure we can discuss that—I assumed this was going to be easy. One who checked all the boxes, as far as what felt right for an ideal investor, seemed likely to move first, like a definite yes. Getting that first big investor committed is everything. As anyone who’s ever raised funds knows, there’s always hesitation to be the first big one in. After that the rest is (relatively) easy. Anyway, I put my eggs in this person’s basket. Meetings and conversations happened. During this time, I didn’t want to simultaneously pursue others, possibly wasting their time if I was only to then say, oh never mind I’m all set. It seemed like it was just a matter of next steps/specifics.
And then, the investor emailed me to say that for no reason to do with me, or the potential of the deal, or the numbers, etc. he was backing out. Entirely. [record scratch] What? Wait… what? Why? Had I completely misread things?
Why? Why was this happening? And what is it I’ve learned that caused me, immediately upon reading the email from my phone while walking up Broadway, to look up to the sky and whisper, thank you. What kind of spiritual person have I become that I know it’s all okay, this person is not the right person after all, this will all work out as it’s supposed to, yet also feeling like I’d been punched in the gut, terror seeping through my veins heading towards my heart?
The fear was because… now what? I go to the others saying: “Well, so and so backed out. Sorry I’ve been quiet for so long. You want in now?” That’s not encouraging. And I felt like an idiot, that I’d been over-confident, thinking I’d had it done, and would get away with never having to ask anyone, or put myself out there.
Even since this happened, two new serious investors have contacted me, asking what I’m working on, interested to be part of it. One’s definitely not a good fit, but the other, yes, this could be right. I actually think it is, and I’m feeling solid about it, as well as another. Both are dog people. (That helps!) Discussions are ongoing. The process continues. But meanwhile, until this is done, I still feel like I’m hanging out on a limb. Like one old man years ago told me (and it stuck in my head in that zapping kind of way) it’s like I’m “holding a Ferrari with a fishing pole.” Except I don’t like sports cars, so don’t love the metaphor, yet still feel it. And my arms are exhausted. Just saying that again makes me vulnerable. As if I’m desperate, and anyone can come in and dictate terms and get to ride shotgun in the Ferrari, or worse, stuff me in the trunk and drive it.
But no, that’s not the case and not happening. I’m protective of this brand. I’m idealistic about the right people being involved. That’s why I’m writing this. Because why would I engage only with people who happen to reach out to me, when the fact that I’m doing this isn’t even a known thing. Why not put it out there? (Why didn’t I do it sooner?)
I feel like I’m in possession of the unpublished first Harry Potter manuscript and some are hemming and hawing about whether they want to link up with me to publish it, while most just don’t even know. Or that I might now have to go, tin cup in hand, asking, when I know what this will be, and that I’m offering something valuable. A well-priced golden ticket to an exciting ride. Not to mention, a project meaningful for its underlying mission.
This isn’t for me.
This is for you.
This is not just a home run. It’s a grand fucking slam, whatever that even is, because I don’t know my baseball terminology.
Or, as my friend Jesse calls it, a “no brainer.” He’s also an entrepreneur, with a whisky brand. He thinks this should be easy for me, saying, “This is a proven concept, internationally renowned, with a built-in media platform. It has a public figure at the helm who’s about to release a memoir that’ll functionally serve as one giant infomercial, who is also the subject of a new upcoming documentary plus a possible scripted series. All of that, and she is a battle-wise experienced businesswoman. Like, what is lacking? It’s a total no-brainer.”
Well, a) because I’ve been scared and kept silent, and b) because I thought I’d had it done. And because there is something (not surprisingly) so wildly “triggering” about this part of the process. When I thought it was all but sorted, and then it wasn’t, I was hit hard in all the places hurtling me back into feeling like a massive failure. And an idiot for thinking it was sorted. A dope for not parallel processing, in case. A coward for not having proactively made all of this known sooner. Even just directly to people I know are the kinds of people who could do things like this, and easily. How do I admit… it’s fucking terrifying.
Why can’t it be acceptable to just own being scared?
***
If ever I hold back publicly, it’s only to respect the privacy of others. Other than that, I’m an open book.
For example, here’s a fun fact: I cry most mornings. Yes. Sometimes heaving it out, with my coffee. I’m admitting it because I think it’s a good thing. I want people around who also understand that it’s a good thing. It’s cleansing. Purging the gunk of the past, processing and clearing it, as one person said to me it’s “washing the soul.” I want a clean soul. And I know that all this self-awareness is precisely what qualifies me to seriously kick ass henceforth.
Anyone else ever feel a sense of steely resolve after a good cry?
Sometimes I feel productively angry.
But at who? I don’t know, at anyone who doubts I’m doing this, that should do it, that I deserve to have it work in a way that’s not so fucking hard. Or anyone who has detected vulnerability and thought they could get more than what’s fair because of it. I see what you were doing.
Putting this out in the open feels wildly exposing, risky. Some people involved may read this and now worry. Don’t worry.
This is me. This is my process. Shining a bright light on how things really are, opening up in an ongoing way, is also what will protect me.
I don’t like to pretend. The world tells us to “fake it ‘til you make it” but … I don’t get that, what if we were all just honest?
***
If you’d asked me a long time ago what would be the ideal way to rebuild and reopen? I’d have said via the involvement of either the one or two perfect people, or, perhaps even better: a lot of people who invest less ($50K or increments thereof) and simply want to be part of this ride with me, this story, and to share in the upside.
To be clear, I may in fact be all set, and publishing this very exposing essay will be moot. But I’ve learned not to rely on anything until it’s certifiably done. I want to put this out in the open because if it’s meant to reach someone or some people specifically, then it will. But not if I stay silent. Something in me keeps wanting to just say what I’m feeling, out loud, in public. It’s a strange urge.
***
I have the LLC set up, the Operating Agreement, Term Sheet, Subscription Agreement, all ready to go. The detailed model, and the deck. I’m ready now.
I’m committed. It’s happening. The right energy needs to fuel this. It almost feels like it must be that way. It can be no other way. Clean energy, clear hearts.
To the moon.
Who is coming with me?
Love,
Sarma
***
More info:
· If you are quite serious about wanting to participate, you can email me at sarma @ sarmaraw.com or reach out to me in Instagram DM’s, which can help to let me know who you are. If you do this and are not serious and waste my time, well… that’s extremely not cool.
· What about the people who invested before, or my other past debts? These are on me to settle. Rebuilding this business, along with other projects, is how I’ll be able to do that. They are my own liabilities, not that of any new entity.
· There is a restaurant operator involved in this reboot, and many other details I can share with anyone serious on this.
· Yes, I’m aware that a $50K minimum is a ton of money and if only investing could be streamlined so anyone could participate at any amount. If only I could win the lottery and then do this however I want and be like Bob Red’s Mill and give it away to the employees.
· If you’re just curious to follow along, please sign up here to be on my newsletter list. I still have the over 25K email list from the past, and a few thousand new emails since. One of these days I’ll get around to using these lists. Adding your email keeps it growing and you’ll be the first to know of any developments.
If you’re oddly fond of reading pages of super personal words, I write more regularly on this other site here, some of it public, not behind a paywall. :)
I first drafted this on the 17th, night of the full moon. Also, I miss Leon so much, it aches daily. Somehow his passing made me stronger, like I’m doing this for him. For all the beings like him. I love you, Leon. I love you all.
