In Writer and Director John Krasinski’s IF (2024), big gentle furry purple imaginary friend (IF) Blue, voiced by amazing Steve Carrell, reunites with his grown up kid Jeremy, played by Bobby Moynihan. As a little boy, Jeremy was color blind; hence Blue’s name.
While waiting in the office lobby, Jeremy nervously reviews his notes before giving his important business presentation. He’s sweating, terrified inside. Although Jeremy doesn’t see him, Blue sits beside him. Blue looks at Jeremy with his kind big green eyes.
As frightened Jeremy stands about to enter the conference room, hulking Blue stands behind him. Blue puts his furry hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. In the reflection on the glass wall, we see Blue placing his hand on little Jeremy’s shoulder.
Blue says, “You’re okay.”
Jeremy’s face brightens up. He smiles, “Okay.”
Jeremy walks into the conference room. He says, “Hey everyone!”
Watching in the movie theater, I cried. I’ve been Jeremy. I get what it is to be that afraid. I also get what it is to believe in myself.
I think the narrative in IF isn’t that we all need our imaginary friends when we grow up. The imaginary friend is really just you believing in yourself, believing that you are okay, too. As we grow older, we learn to believe in ourselves on our own, without the imaginary friend. It’s really just you, anyway. It always was.
As a little boy, I wasn’t always okay. Whatever I did or didn’t do only made my Dad so angry with me. I never knew which. I got that I was not the son Dad wanted. I would never be good enough for him. I would never be good enough for anyone, especially me. Consequently, I spent much of my adult life trying to prove that I was good enough, that I was good enough to be loved. I had to prove that I was okay.
I only have the present. The past is in the past. I can’t change the past. Lady MacBeth said, “What’s done cannot be undone.” The future hasn’t happened yet. That makes it the future. I have nothing to do with what goes on inside someone else. I have a lot to do with what goes on inside me. Aikido Founder Morihei Ueshiba said, “True victory is victory over oneself.” It’s me against me. I get out of my own way. I free myself. I’m the only one who can.
In Aikido, Ishibashi Sensei said, “The purpose of Aikido is to release your fear.” When the bigger stronger man punches to my face, I wait it out. I enter the attack and die with honor. Sensei said, “The safest place to be is under the attack, in the danger.” I enter the attack, enter what I fear. I take a glancing blow if I have to. It’s one time.
Under the attack, I hold my position. I make my timing. I apply the Aikido technique to myself, not to the attacker. I apply nikkyo (wristlock) to myself and match the punch with yoko-iriminage (strike to the side of the head) to the attacker. I choose to let the attacker pass or end the attack. The attacker chooses to take the fall or get hit in the face. I could win or lose. The attacker could win or lose. We both choose.
I enter the attack. Don’t oppose the attack. I hold my position. Open up. I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough. My fear of Dad as the frightened little boy. Although my fear inside never completely disappears, every time I enter what I fear, I let go more of my fear inside me. Everything quiet inside me. I’m okay.
In IF when Jeremy gives his important business presentation to his bosses, he faces his fear. He believes in himself. He’s okay.
When the 250-pound man punches to my face or I ask a woman who I really like to see a movie and get sushi, I face my fear that I’m not good enough. I let go of my fear inside. Open up. I believe in me. I’m okay.
I’m okay in the present when I love myself for who I am and forgive myself for who I’m not. I hold my position. Open up. I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough over, and over, and over again. I do the best I can. I’m the greatest that I can be. And let the chips fall where they may. I’m okay.
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