When I was 19, I did Outward Bound, a wilderness survival course designed to make a man out of me. For 24 winter days, my team and I camped and traveled through New Hampshire's White Mountains. Near the end of the ordeal, we were each required to do a three-day "solo" experience, during which time we were left alone with only three things: a sleeping bag, a canvas tarp to use as a partial shelter, and a box of mincemeat.
The latter was a concentrated slab of food made of raisins, dried apples, lemon rind, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and dried beef. As I shivered and worried and sang loud songs and battled my own wild thoughts during those challenging but enlightening 72 hours, I grew to savor my odd-tasting delicacy. It kept me sane and grounded. As you prepare for your own rite of passage, Taurus, I suggest you procure the metaphorical equivalent of mincemeat.