eat, pray, love & kahil gibran

eat, pray, love & kahil gibran

“you don’t need a man, liz,” he says. “you need a champion.”

a line spoken by that hot actor with the bedroom eyes, dimples & accent — think his name is javier bardem.

i’ve resisted watching eat, pray, love since it came out, & resisted reading the book, too, by elizabeth gilbert. it was like 8 years ago, right? something like that. i think it’s because i had a pretty good idea what it was about.

i don’t watch movies as much as i used to — not by a long shot. & i need to work on that. you can learn a lot from movies, not to mention books.

this liz woman seems to be julia roberts.

&, I’m not even watching the movie now, anyway, even though it’s on the tv — says at the bottom of the screen, “26 minutes left.”  below that, it says, “a woman comes to the realization that she is not happy. so after a divorce, she sets out on a journey across the world, during which she falls in love.”

same old familiar story, right? unhappy, divorce, expensive vacation, love.

hey, wait a minute… where’s the eat & pray? oh, yeah — coming in with only 26, now 24 minutes left, they must’ve done that already.

okay, here comes love. it would seem that now they’re falling in it. julia has that weepy, sideways look in her eyes. javier is watching her with an “i’ve got love on my mind” expression.

gracious. he just popped something like “girl from ipanema” on the hi-fi. now it’s the dance, the seduction, followed by,

the closed door.

change of scene. more dialogue: “love is scary. dangerous.” it’s the woman who’s treating julia for a bladder infection.

“we’ve only spent 2 minutes apart for the past 2 weeks,” julia says.

“too much happiness. too much pleasure. you make yourself sick,” the wise woman says…. “be careful, or you lose yourself.”

i know what she’s talking about. i know. you might, too, if you’ve ever been in love.

you spend so much time together – it’s just so fun — intoxicating — it’s all you want to do. you don’t want to be apart.

but javier lives in bali. julia lives in new york. when he proposes they try finding a life in the middle, she freaks out.

“you’re afraid to love again,” he says. “do you love me, or do you love me not?  look me in the eyes & tell me. i know you feel the same way i do. why can’t you say it back? you’re terrified?”

julia retorts in tearful exasperation, “i don’t know why you can’t understand this. i found something & i can’t give it up.”

“the balance you think you found is meditation & prayer,” he says back. “listen. balance, my darling, is not letting anybody love you less than you love yourself.”

“don’t say darling to me again, or i’m going to lose it,” she cries angrily. “i don’t need to love you to prove that I love myself.”

“don’t run away from me,” he pleads. “you’re running away from all of the great possibilities of your own life.”

but, she does.

she puts his photo in her travel bag & zips it up.

before she heads home, she visits her medicine man, ketut.  “you healed me ketut. i wouldn’t have come back to myself.”

taking her hand,  he looks at her knowingly. “you love your new boyfriend.”

“i ended it,” she says.

“don’t understand why you do that.”

she shakes her head. “i couldn’t keep my balance.”

“listen to ketut,” he says. “sometimes, to lose your balance for love is part of living a balanced life.”

she smiles.

the movie’s almost over. but, we’ve seen enough of them to know she never makes it to the airport.

in the meantime, julia gives a voice-over about “the physics of the quest.”

         “if you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments) and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared – most of all – to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself… then truth will not be withheld from you.

          or so i’ve come to believe.”

that’s one kick-ass speech, don’t you think?

julia didn’t come up with it spontaneously — elizabeth gilbert put those words in her  mouth & she’s a damn good writer. plus, she’s definitely onto something.

julia meets javier on the boat dock. of course she came back.

they kiss, they smile. they speed in a fast boat across the ocean, breeze in their hair, sparkle on their eyes, into the sunset.

when I got married, the priest took from the teachings of kahil gibran. tonight, i turn to these words in my mind– i believe they speak to this “balance” from eat, pray, love.

see what you think. it’s from gibran’s “on marriage.”

“Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

i’m happy i got to catch the last 26 minutes of the movie tonight. what an amazing gift.

i also love javier’s line, the 1st line i caught from the movie, because it’s so meaningful to me. it says a lot.

“you don’t need a man, liz,” he says. “you need a champion.”

that’s love. & believe me, i’m grateful.

truly grateful. & blessed.

TTFN

passion

passion

i love it, don’t you?

simply intoxicating — there’s nothing better.

just so exciting. all-consuming. it makes you feel alive.

feeding that passion is the best reason in the world to crawl out of bed in the morning, & you never have to wonder what you’re going to do with yourself all day again.

but, to not have passion? a burning passion? i tried that already, so no thanks.

“what do you want to be when you grow up?”

ask a child & they’ll tell you right away, no problem — because the sky’s the limit.

me, i wanted to be a movie star. not an actress, a movie star– there’s a big difference.

i remember what my family said. all sarcastic. “martha thinks she’s such a glamour puss.” like it was stupid — & i thought i was so cool & awesome.

i remember thinking, “well, what’s wrong with that?”

&, it kind of hurt, really. yes, it did.

what happened?

what happens to a lot of us, i guess. feeling like we can’t do it. that it’s unattainable, whatever it is.

buying into beliefs we let people put on us.

i knew there was something about me. i was the funny kid. maybe it came from being the youngest of 4 children, desperate for attention, but it doesn’t matter. i made people laugh, & i knew not everybody could do that.

anyway, we get out in the world & lose our self confidence, our ability to trust ourselves, & even the feeling that we’re worthy of having it at all. besides, following a passion is indulgent — a useless idea we picked up somewhere along the line.

not only that — following a passion can take really hard work, you know. & it could be we’re just a little lazy.

just thought i’d throw that in…

still, i had a way with words & i knew i could communicate. down deep inside, i knew it.

so, think about it — what about you?

maybe you know what happens when you shove things down. end up with someone else’s dream. spending your time living someone else’s life when that’s really their job — not yours.

passion defines us. it’s who we are.

do you still remember what you said you wanted to be when you grew up?

have you ever felt like something’s wrong — something you can’t put your finger on, exactly —  just that there’s an empty, disjointed sensation you just can’t shake. like you’re not fully experiencing life. & it’s beginning to feel uncomfortable…

it’s like when your stomach is hanging over your jeans. they just don’t fit anymore. maybe they never did in the 1st place. they’ve finally gotten so tight that they suddenly split up the back when you bend over.

that’s probably an awful analogy, but i think you know where i’m going with this.

so, what happens?

there’s a person i know who i’ve been thinking a lot about lately.  one of my favorite people in the world & they’re going through a hard time.  i’ve known this person forever. my whole life, really, & in many of my earliest memories, this person is there.

had looks, & a killer personality. not only that, he was smart –like brilliant-smart, in every subject. smarter than i am by a mile, & i kind of hate those people, know what i mean?

still, with so many things going for him, my friend’s jeans split up the back. maybe it was cut-offs & not jeans he was wearing, but that’s not important. what popped out was an inner-feeling, i guess. just a distorted, scary picture of himself. not real.

what popped out was a damn lie.

i’d tell you if i knew the true reason —  I’m not a mind reader, but like i said- i’ve known this person a very long time, & i think he bought into some people’s ideas that were neither fair nor true, & rather than proving them all wrong & following his passion anyway, when the opportunity came to take the easy way out, he took it.

but easy became a habit & what came next was not a pretty picture. sapped self-worth, a loss of confidence & some really lousy choices. in his words, “it’s a pretty shitty deal.”

but, then, maybe i’m completely wrong about my friend. i mean, what do i know? i wasn’t exactly leading the passion parade myself.

i had this desperate, gnawing fear that wouldn’t leave me alone. i’d see myself as an old woman sitting in my rocker on my front porch looking out at the stars. just kicking myself. so disappointed in myself, because my potential was nowhere.

when i’d had every opportunity to change my life every step of the way.

i was about 40 when my wheels came flying off. to tell you the truth, i basically lost my shit. time was running out & i had no idea how to stop it.

& it only gets worse when you have kids of your own, you know?

i had a notion earlier today. something every kid should learn in school. i mean required, serious, no-kidding classes, early-on where they’re taught to follow their passion & hold on tight.

i finally got help.

yep, from one of those paid professionals who you can tell your deepest secrets to.

mine was a man. a kind man. not a lot older than i was really, but he seemed much older — an old soul, that’s what he was..

twice a week for an hour & a half, i’d be crying on his same blue-striped, velour sofa. i felt like i was crazy, & there’s probably something to that..

there was a breakthrough one day.

with one question, just a string of words, the man saved my life.

it wasn’t groundbreaking or earth-shattering. nothing anybody on the street couldn’t have asked just as easily, but it must’ve been the right time. his question was simple:

“what’s the thing in your life you want to do more than anything?””

“write a book.”

the words tumbled from my lips, free-falling from the cobwebs of my troubled mind.

his follow-up question — what he said next truly startled me. probably shouldn’t have, but i’m telling you, it truly did.

he tilted his head & looked at me intently. again, a question just so simple:

“why don’t you?”

seriously, i mean, really – think about it. unless they’re shoveling dirt on your casket, it’s never too late.

it’s not.

as  began writing this, i realized something. that little girl who wanted to be a movie star — it occurred to me that’s still who i am. maybe not what i originally had in mind, but i am going to star in a movie. rather, my words are.

i can’t see it yet, or even what it looks like, & i don’t know how, & i don’t know when — i just know that they are.

so, about that word passion…..

what do you think it means?

i just happen to have my dictionary right here on my desk. can’t live without it. random house dictionary of the english language

the unabridged edition

pas-sion (pash’en), n. 1. any emotion or feeling, as love, desire, anger, hate, feat, grief, joy, hope, etc., esp when of a powerful or compelling nature.

here’s another definition – i personally think it fits:

6. a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything, i.e: a passion for music.

a few entries down the page, my finger stops on another word. a sad word.

pass-ion-less (pash’en lis) adj.  not feeling or moved by passion; cold or unemotional; calm or detached.

i’m telling you, with his two simple questions, that man saved my life.

what’s your passion?

i hope you’re one of those fortunate, fulfilled people with their fires still red-hot & blazing.

& what about those kids of yours? they don’t have to be your blood-kids – maybe someone else you can motivate. look around you — people are everywhere.

in case you’re concerned about the old friend of mine, don’t be. i was there in the very beginning & you don’t know him like I do. he can move heaven & earth.

we all know that for smoldering coals of passion, all it takes is a little fanning to kindle a flame.

TTFN

gratitude

gratitude

with the exception of the years i gave birth to my children, 2014 has been the most wonderful year of my life.

come to think of it, i gave birth again, this year.

i gave birth to my novel, painting juliana.

it actually happened – my lifetime dream.

i am grateful.

to God, my spirit guides & angels, ancestors, & everyone who’s helped me, whether i’ve actually met them or not.

& i say thank you.

thank you for helping me.

my heart is filled with joy.

procrastination & prayer

procrastination & prayer

forgive me, oh blog followers. this is my 1st blog post in 3 weeks & i apologize. i really do.

it’s just that procrastination is my nemesis. i find myself putting off new blog posts because they take so damn much time.

but, i learned something important today that i need to tell you about. it’s about control, i guess you could say.

control as it relates to prayer.

there’s a heartbreaking tragedy going on in someone’s life who’s close to me right now. a dear friend – her brother was in a crazy freak accident, bitten by a rattlesnake of all things after finishing a 5-mile run on the exercise trail behind the hospital where he works. venom went straight into his vein & pumped through his body at an astronomical speed. none of it makes sense. it’s all just so bizarre.

the man is a father, a husband, a brother, a son. a surgeon. in fact, it was between surgeries when he took his run. he’s been on life support & a respirator for coming on a week now. they found a second set of bite marks – not just on his ankle, but his wrist, too. & now, pneumonia has set in. just where it’s all going — well, who knows really? God does, i suppose.

of course, He does.

i’ve been overcome with sadness – so sad for my friend his sister, his dad, his wife & kids. his patients, present & future. a tremendous sadness like one i’ve never felt. so many tears. it’s been all i think about.

the prayers i’ve said – what i’ve said… please God, save his life. his work here on earth isn’t finished. Jesus, raise him up like Lazarus — i know you can. he’s got so much more to do.

struggling, i called another friend this morning. my special phone-friend who helps me talk through difficult things. he’s the kind of person who’s a real truth meter, who i feel safe telling anything to.

SPOILER ALERT — i’m one those “woo-woo” people. i guess you could say i have an open-minded approach to things i don’t understand, & if that’s a turn-off to some people — sorry. but, writing this blog, i’ve got to keep it real. know what i mean?

so, i told him everything i’ve just told you. plus, that with how i’m so consumed with it, it’s like i’m involved on such a personal level. my friend’s brother & i knew each other in college. not well — she was my roommate & he would come to visit, but i was always super-crazy about him. he was her younger brother, for heavens sake, so don’t get the wrong idea. but there was something there. i’m not sure what, but it was something.

these overwhelming feelings of mine have to do with a past-life experience between us. i know it sounds weird, i can’t explain it & i can’t prove it, but it came over me with such sudden intensity, i knew it sure as chocolate when the words spilled out of my mouth to my friend on the phone.

i also felt like this past-life thing between my roommate’s brother & me, my overwhelming feelings have to do with the fact that i was unable to save him before. unable to get there on time. like i said — something. something deeper. it was personal.

praying – more like demanding that God save his life, my trying to impose my will on roommate’s brother, how do i know what his will is for himself? And, what God’s will is for him?

i don’t. it’s none of my business, really. it’s their business. together.

& as soon as my phone-friend helped me understand this, i was able to give up my wanting to control. it wasn’t immediate. it took a little while because i really want him to live. & i’m pretty stubborn.

but, a feeling of peace & calm came over me. it’s what i’ve felt ever since.

control. i have none. over anyone but myself.

in case you think i’m giving up on prayer — not a chance. those things i don’t understand, i’m not always going to. faith. trust. it’s what i have for now.

His will be done.

make your bed

make your bed

scenario: unexpected guest rings your doorbell. for some unknown reason, said guest enters your bedroom & your bed’s not made.

& it’s afternoon.

how does that make you feel?

mortified? humiliated? dreadfully ashamed that the cat’s out of the bag on your dirty little secret?

now, maybe it’s none of the above, & you’d think to yourself, well, who gives a crap? & besides, what’s this nosy creep doing in my bedroom anyway?

but, if it’s one of the first things, or even all 3, why is that?

now, i’m just throwing this out there — it shows that you’re a slob. yeah, that’s probably part of it. especially if this person came back the very next day & saw the same thing.

but, the real reason? maybe a subconscious reason… you know deep inside that you don’t take care of TCB.

for you non-aretha fans, that means, take care of taking care of business.

why don’t we make our beds?

for me, sometimes i’ll think to myself, well – what the hey? i’m just getting back in there later… so what’s the point? besides, bed making has an extra-negative association with me. oh, boo-hoo, i know, but when i was growing up, it seemed like a daily test of perfection. rather, my non-perfection.

my mom was, and still is a total freak about the correct way to do it, & it drives me crazy. like totally nails-digging-into-my-palms, ape-shit crazy.

the blanket must be pulled to the correct distance from the top of the mattress – precisely 3” from the headboard, no more, no less. now, this next part with the sheet takes a little advance preparation, because the amount it must be folded down over the blanket must be that same 3”, because that is the exact measurement between the top edge of the sheet & its hemmed cuff.

it is also imperative that the amount of sheet & blanket hanging down the edge the mattress is equal on both sides. i’m talking completely equal, & if you’re incapable of eye-balling it, there’s a yardstick under the bed.

right next to the slide rule.

now, once they’re devoid of the mere hint of wrinkles, it’s time to tuck the sheet & blanket under the foot of the mattress. neatly.

oh, hell – i forgot to say that before you can put the blanket on top, the corners of the sheet have to be squared first, at strict 90 degree angles. if you forget this crucial step– well, don’t, because, aye yai yai!

my mom will make you start all over.

i was always like, what’s the big damn deal? why make an all-day event out of it? & for a total non-rule follower, like me who’s a little more free-style in my approach to life, & just about everything in it, i was thrilled beyond thrilled when i moved out on my own & could make the bed like i damn-well pleased, or, not at all, thank you very much.

which brings me to the next part of this story.

an old buddy of mine was “invited” to attend AA several years back — strictly a stipulation of her probation, she said, but who really knows…

anyway, a really pitiful young woman in the group was horribly addicted drugs, & not the kind found on the shelves @ your neighborhood pharmacy. maybe you didn’t know this, but not everyone in AA is sober, & for her, it was a daily battle that she didn’t always win.

in a desperate state one day, the young woman stood up & completely bore her soul. heartbreaking. many years had passed when my buddy told me this story, & she said she’ll remember it until the day she dies.

when the young woman sat down, the room was pin-drop silent for several moments.

until an older lady stood from her chair. easily sixty-five years old. honey, she said.

make your bed.

the young woman looked @ her dumbstruck. everyone else in the room, too. like, what a stupid & insensitive thing for the lady to say. but, she explained.

if you can do that, just that one, simple little thing, it starts your day off right & you’ll be surprised at the difference it makes.

hmmm-m

in case you think i’m going to sit here & tell you it solved all the young woman’s problems, i’m not, because i honestly don’t know — & besides, if making your bed was the world’s best therapy for addiction, my mother would be running a halfway house — but i have spent a fair amount of time contemplating the lady’s advice.

think about it — to make your bed, you have to get out of it first, & for some of us, some days, that may not be all that easy to do.

plus, after going to all that trouble, you’re going to think twice before crawling back in it, right? not only that, but by starting your day doing something you’re not all that fired-up about doing & find out it’s not fatal, you know you can do it the next day, too.

i started this blog post this morning. in my head, that is, mulling over the lady’s advice as i sipped my coffee while looking down @ the rumpled, twisted blankets on my bed. hell, no, i don’t make my bed every day – i think we’ve already covered that (nice pun). but, as i took extra care smoothing the wrinkles from the comforter & arranging my fancy pillows on top, i knew that not only would i be good & damn ready if some nosy creep happened to wander back into my sanctuary, i had a feeling that it was a good start to a pretty great day.

&, i was right.

TTFN

what is art?

what is art?

essential.

it made me cry tonight. like with tears rolling down my cheeks.

that’s the thing about art — it makes you feel.

because art is an interactive experience.

that probably sounds heavy, i know, but you didn’t see the dance performance i did tonight. think how staring at a magnificent painting can make you feel, reading an incredible piece of literature or listening to a symphony & maybe you’ll understand.

it was modern dance — the kind that some people would say, that’s not dance, just because it’s not conventional. the dancers were male and female, different shapes, sizes, & colors, but none of that mattered. it was the dramatic emotion they were able to convey that was important. with just the dynamic movement of their bodies set to music, the dancers were able to make me understand things i never had before.

the art was that powerful.

i’ll never forget the night i went to a concert — it was a beatles cover-band, so i thought i knew what to expect — a little “eleanor rigby” & “love me do,” but it was so much more. the music lit me up in such a way that i couldn’t wait to get home & write. i set my computer keys on fire that night, & the story ideas & word combinations were so exciting — well, i didn’t come up with them all by myself.

have you ever seen ballet performed to hard rock? i have, & it changes the experience entirely, in a way that’s damn cool. it’s the unexpected that makes you consider things in a whole new way. & that’s good.

so, yes — art is an interactive experience that inspires the expression of the human soul.

no kidding.

TTFN

pennies

pennies

a friend of mine picks them up every time she sees one & she sees them a lot.

she was going through a hard time many years ago. she moved back to her hometown from los angeles. her family needed her.

this was the 80’s. you remember the 80’s, right?

the decade from hell, according to my friend, & not just because of the unfortunate fashions. jobs were scarce & she couldn’t find one.

so, she did what most of us seem to do when we’re in trouble. she talked to God.

I mean really talked to him while she’d be out taking a walk.

that’s when she started seeing pennies. lots of pennies.

she’d bend down & pick them up off the sidewalk & slip them in her pocket.

soon, she noticed it wasn’t only on the sidewalk she’d see them. it seemed like they were everywhere.

sitting on a windowsill.

on top of the morning paper outside her door.

pennies.

a flicker in the grass would catch her eye. she could see it from a mile away.

beautiful, copper pennies.

sparkling in the sun. like they were following her.

she got some spotty temp jobs, a demeaning stint peddling yellow-page ads. she had to sell some of her things, but somehow, she always made rent. & she knew she had a lot to be grateful for.

she pulled up to a traffic light. there on the pavement next to her car.

a penny.

she opened the door.

hello there, she said. you’re so pretty & shiny, & i know you’ve been working hard all of your life & you’ve got to be tired. why don’t you let me give you a lift?

as she picked it up and looked down at it in her palm, she remembered something.

she’d sucked her thumb when she was little. it’s how she comforted herself, always wrapped up in the same soft, satin-edged blanket.

& like kids do, she gave her blanket a name.

penny.

that’s when she knew what they all meant.

the pennies were God’s way of comforting her now. letting her know everything wasn’t going to just be okay, it already was okay.

now, if you’re thinking i’m making this up, or that I swiped it off the back of readers digest, or that my friend’s a wackadoodle, which she’s not, just work with me & listen to the rest of the story. okay?

do you always pick them up, i asked her.

the 1st penny was over 30 years ago & even now, she finds one almost every single day.

absolutely, she said. of course.

what do you do with them? i imagined them spilling over her flowerbeds at home.

lots of them are in piggy banks, & regular banks, too, she said, because she’s traded lots of them in. but, she also has books & books of them under her bed. she’ll tape them to the pages and write a little something alongside. like where she found them.

& how she was feeling that day, before she found them & after.

she’s been seeing the same penny on her drive to work. right in the middle of a busy street & she sees it again on her way home, too. twinkling on the pavement, it seems to wink at her.

it’s been several weeks now, in the middle of all those cars whizzing by & the penny hasn’t moved.

freaky, huh?

all right, remember that line from grease? somebody’s got to say it, so i guess it’s got to be me.

“see a penny, pick it up. all day long you’ll have good luck.”

i think it sounds like a spectacular idea. don’t you?

TTFN

thanks, mom

thanks, mom

sometimes, I’ve just got to say it.

my mom will send me canned emails sometimes — the ones railing about  obama being a muslim, i delete faster than you can sarah palin. the cheesy, uplifting variety, i usually skim real quick so i won’t feel guilty, & say,   yeah, whatever ….. & delete those, too.

it’s totally not my style to pass along this kind of thing, so don’t get used to it — my next post will be snarky, i promise…………………  so, THANKS, MOM!

to realize the value of a sister or brother, ask someone who doesn’t have one.

to realize the value of ten years, ask a newly-divorced couple.

to realize the value of four years, ask a graduate.

to realize the value of one year, ask a student who’s failed a final exam.

to realize the value of nine months, ask a mother who gave birth to a stillborn.

to realize the value of one month, ask a mother who’s given birth to a premature baby.

to realize the value of one minute, ask a person who’s missed the train, bus or plane.

to realize the value of one second, ask a person who’s survived an accident.

to realize the value of a friend or family member:

LOSE ONE.

Time waits for no one. Treasure every moment you have.

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Thought Catalog

Thought Catalog is a digital youth culture magazine dedicated to your stories and ideas.

Reading on a Rainy Day

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

Bibliotica

...because books are portable magic.

A Bookish Affair

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

Books, Cooks, Looks

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

Dwell in Possibility

Book Reviews for Inquiring Minds

Wall-to-Wall Books

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

Mom in Love with Fiction

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

cupcake's book cupboard

... because there is no such thing as too many books ...

Bert's Book Review Blog

Just another book junkie giving his two cents on the written word.

Breitbart News

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

Layers of Thought

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

peppermint phd

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

The Pulpwood Queen's Book Club

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

Frank The Movie Watcher, Book Lover, Pop Culture Fan

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

FN Dish – Food Network Blog

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

Social Triggers

....... and, i'm the woman for the job

mollytopia.wordpress.com/

Fabulously Refined/Wildy Inappropriate