It’s the sound of samurai swords clashing.
It’s the sound of six-gun carrying, lone cowboys riding horseback across the Great Plains.
It’s the sound of space battles.
It’s the sound of star crossed lovers seized in their first or final kiss.
It’s Scheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov.
The word “epic” is thrown around and overused like an old beach towel, and therefore would almost devalue and diminish the sheer magnitude of this colossal, classical composition. But “epic” unquestionably is the only word which fully encompasses how this music feels.
It’s the goddamn sound of sun rays after a violent thunderstorm.
And, it’s tied for first with Brubeck’s Take Five as my dad’s favorite piece of music of all time.
I found his old Scheherazade CD this morning and slid it into the Saab’s stereo. With the convertible top down, I glided to the beach accompanied by a subtle breeze, roadside flowers, epic melodies and of course, epic memories.
“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.”―Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success
“I’m feeling really anxious/shitty/scared. Can you tell me something good please?”
I received this text from a friend a few nights ago.
I instantly responded, “It’s an illusion. It’s mostly all an illusion. And the fraction that isn’t, truly loves you. So just sit there, do nothing, and receive.”
I was just riffing, thoughtlessly riffing. But that doesn’t make it any less true. In fact, probably more true. Light years more.
She courteously thanked me for taking the time to respond. And then thanked me wholeheartedly the next morning because she was breathing more easily. Feeling more free.
I’m not sharing this with you for plaudits, I’m sharing it just to share.
Because we teach what we need to learn. And/or, remember.
If you haven’t read my book, it’s officially time to:
I love you.
The person reading these words right now.
I don’t care if you’re male or female, old or young, straight or gay, white or black, yin or yang, I love you.
Really, I do.
I am so in love with your essence, just thinking about it simultaneously wrecks and rebuilds me.
What do I mean by your essence?
It’s that mysterious force which animates all of life. It flows with such gentleness. Such grace. And yet, such power.
And, in this moment, it’s all I sense in you. Because it’s being sensed with the exact awareness created by the same mysterious, all pervasive force.
But let’s not get anchored with concepts.
Please just know, down to your bones and beyond, you are loved.
Right now, regardless of how you feel or what you’ve been told, you are loved.
Unconditionally. Unequivocally. Unrelentingly.
Underneath all of your feelings, emotions, thoughts, reactions and judgments, you are loved like a mother loves her child. Like a poet loves his poems. Like sunbeams love flowers.
No questions, exceptions or expectations.
Please allow yourself to allow me this.
Although, I will love you anyway.
My shadow moved with precision on the bathroom wall as I flossed my teeth and I focused fully on my ghostlike projection as if it was the most important thing in the universe at the time.
I breathed it all in as if a great answer might be revealed out of the subtlety of the absolute mundane.
But no answer was revealed.
Because the attention I brought to this moment, is the answer.
If I had access to a time machine, and could only use it once, I know exactly where I’d go.
A few years back, sitting on the couch with my dad, listening to Pat Matheny through his huge speakers at unsafe decibels (as if we were in that old Maxell commercial), looking at each other and smiling as children do.
We’d sit there until my mom yelled at us.
And then we’d sit there a little longer.
With that, tomorrow is Father’s Day.
My dad left me a few years ago and those speakers washed away in the hurricane.
And here I sit in Starbucks, listening to Pat Metheny for old time’s sake, and thinking – what’s the point of it all?
But I knew the answer before I asked.
The point is, further.
Keep moving further.
Because I know deeply, down to the depth of my neurons, more moments that will turn to monumental memories are on their way.
So, I’ll keep my head up.
And keep moving further.
I owe that to him. And to myself.
(This is a chapter to a new book I’m writing which I may or may not finish – thanks so much for trading your time to read it – PLEASE share it with your friends)
“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success
“My dad’s tackle box
sits in my sister’s garage,
filled with memories.”
My dad, Harold Berman, was born seventy-three years ago today.
I’m sitting in his seat in the cabana, looking zen-like at the ocean as he would.
(thanks for reading my words, especially today – I’m grateful for you)
“Before I was born, before my parents were born, before the Earth cooled, and light years even before that, I already existed. For I am only consciousness. Perfect, pure, timeless, boundless consciousness. As are you. Because I am you. And you are me. We are one. And we are all there ever was and will ever be.” – gb
I didn’t think I was straight for awhile, but it turns out I totally was the whole time.
(I love, I mean I really love, all of the gay thoughts you’re having about me right now. I meant – if my body was straight or crooked while stretching in the gym this morning.)
So, in the gym this morning, right before I gave this Chinese guy a handjob…wait, what?
No, seriously this time. I was stretching on the floor this morning at the gym and I kept on trying to adjust myself (stop!) because I kept feeling that my whole body was on an angle.
I finally realized however, it was the mirror on the wall which was crooked. Actually, it was the wall the mirror hung (holy shit, stop already) from.
And I kept on trying to correct myself.
What a perfect example of this life of ours. Society keeps telling us that we need to conform and get in line if we, as Thoreau has said, hear a different drummer.
But let me remind you my dear friends, sometimes it’s society that has the problem. Not us.
We’re conditioned to tie ourselves into pretzels to appease the world, but if we don’t heed our hearts, we’re doomed.
Follow your heart.
Follow kindness and compassion.
Follow your passions.
– gabe –
Penis, I mean Please, if you liked this post, share it with your friends. Thank you as always.