OMGabe

by Gabe Berman – the author of Live Like a Fruit Fly

Day 3 After The Election

I know this isn’t the best pic ever. 

But I was in the car, on the phone with a friend, talking about how our country was hijacked, now officially, by hate and greed and fear and ignorance. And I was asked if I still believe in miracles in light of all of this. 

It was then I looked to the right and saw the majesty of this sky. And I was in awe. 



Yes, I still believe in miracles. I expect nothing else. 



I’ve seen too many of them. 
And not just pretty skies. I’m talking about miraculous healings. 



Of body and spirit. 



I have lost my faith in my country and in many people, but I will never lose my faith in divine will.



– gb


www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

The Day After (The Election)

Love prevails.

At least for me, love prevails.

Because I will die with love in my heart.

Love in my heart for innocent life.

Love in my heart for those who put love first.
And love in my heart for the pure essence which all people are born with before being corrupted by hate and greed and fear.

Love prevails.

Love prevails.

Love prevails.

You can take away my health insurance. You can deport me. You can intervene with my reproductive rights. You can kill the environment. You can put the interest of big business before the well being of powerless people. You can treat animals abominably in slaughterhouses. You can alienate the global community. You can make the rich richer and the poor poorer. You can persecute me because of my skin color, gender and sexual orientation. You can destroy this country which hundreds of thousands of people died to defend.

You can cart me away to a concentration camp and force me to die in a gas chamber.

But I will die with love in my heart.

You can’t beat me.

I will never lose.

I am the representation of perfect, divine love.

And it’s never too late to join me.

Today I am heartbroken, but remain indestructible.

– gabe berman

20161109-170003.jpg

Inevitable 


buy my goddamn books here:

LOVE LOOKS LIKE THIS 

Trump Is Pinnochio

I was totally a self-hating Jew last night.

Actually, a Jew hating Jew.

There was a table full of pro Trump, 40-something, wealthy looking Israeli women at Starbucks.

And me being me, I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

I’ll spare you the predictable details but I bowed out of the conversation after two pseudo intellectual, yarmulke wearing, wannabe tough-guys in their early twenties stood up to assist the tragically uninformed, cosmically ignorant women.

Trying to sound smart about Trump just made them sound ridiculously stupid so it wasn’t like we reached a stalemate or anything. I just knew it was time to go when one of the guys got a bit too close and self defense would have been justified.

And now let me say this: I truly don’t give a fuck about these people.

They, along with their friends and families, could blink out of existence right this moment and I’d still care infinitely more about the puppies at the Humane Society.

I have no need to win arguments with them or with anyone else.

It’s just that their racist, greedy, anti-progressive allegiances hurt those who can’t afford to be hurt. And I just can’t have that. Genetically and soulfully, it doesn’t resonate with me.

But now let me back up a bit.

I know it’s not their fault. They were bred to be this way – dumbed down, opinionated and wealthy. A terrifying trifecta. The plague of humanity.

And I know it’s barely a Jewish issue. For the most part, us Heebs care about others (not just ourselves) and obviously, stupidity runs rampant in all creeds (Apollo) and kinds.

And, just like it’s not their fault, it’s not mine either. In the moment, I have no choice but to stand up to injustice. It’s hardwired into guts. My double helix hates oppression and I’ve been known to threaten violence over it.

So, what’s the point of this post?

It seems as though we’re marionettes with the universe pulling the strings.

Maybe we’re all playing our parts perfectly in an elaborate puppet show.

In other words, we have no control over anything.

And if that’s the case, and you add up all of my failures and anxieties, I’m still so supremely grateful to be me.

Because this puppet writing to you now, well, he’s all heart. And he doesn’t fetishize over money or guns or winning at the expense of others. This puppet is well aware that we’re all intricately connected to the puppeteer and loves all of life as he loves himself.

Because just as easily, I could have been the awful Donald Trump or even worse, one of his minions.

Therefore, in this moment, I have nothing but gratefulness.

love/thanks,
gabe

“Vote Republican,” said Jesus Never – The Right Isn’t Right

20161102-184017.jpg

Live Like A Fuck Fly

Sometimes I feel like saying fuck it to everything so I can dedicate my entire existence to witnessing beauty and adding to it whenever possible. And by sometimes, I mean almost always. What’s stopping me? I think I’m worried to stop worrying. But, is worrying about events I mostly have no control over bringing me any closer to a peaceful mind and a secure future? No, of course not. Maybe my friends, the answer really is blowin in the wind. And I just need to allow myself to get immersed in the sound of rustling leaves until the answer is revealed.  

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

They Say It’s My Birthday 


Get yourself or a loved one a present for my birthday: 

The Little Things Are Huge (that’s what she…)


My dad would be so proud of me right now.

Am I getting married? Nope.

Have I become a success? Nope.

Did I stick up for someone who was being taken advantage of? Nope. Not yet today.

I’m just getting the five thousand mile check up on my car.

He loved this shit.

I’d call him and say, “Hey, I’m just sitting here getting my oil changed.”

And he’d say whatever he’d say and I’d hear him smiling on the other end of the phone.

These are the little things you miss when you lose someone.

Things you thought meant nothing at the time.

Now they mean everything.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

love/thanks,
gb

P.S That’s “Munchkin” with me in the photo. We’re chillin together at the Toyota dealer. His mom is some double cane using, decrepit old lady. She’s wearing a Cosby sweater. I feel for her. Right now she’s reading the newspaper. Talking out loud about Trump and Clinton. Trying to get me to take the bait. I won’t. She just said, “We should get Roosevelt back.” Roosevelt turned Jews away during the war who were fleeing Hitler. And now I hear my dad saying, “There’s three sides to every story. Your side, my side and the truth.”

Live Like A Fruit Fly

20161004-143457.jpg

Do You Love Love?

As gently and lovingly possible, a father just cupped the back of his young daughter’s head with his open palm. 

She’ll never remember this tender moment.  

And he might forget. 

But I’ll remember forever for both. 


(what does love look like?)



Seeing what sticks…


love looks like this

live like a fruit fly 

I Met A Messenger Today – the sequel

“Shit. This fucking guy wants to talk to me?” I thought.

(Yes. There’s lots of cursing in my internal dialogue.)

I just wanted to sit there, upload pics to Instagram like a motherfucker (that one was just thrown in there for my own fun), suck on my venti iced coffee, and then, in between it all, dwell on the perfect flowers which encircled the man-made geyser/water-fountain at this outdoor mall I found myself at.

But this chubby old guy with a Brooklyn accent had to chime in with, “The sound of the fountain. It’s really nice.”

“Shit, and he’s autistic,” I joked to myself.

Be nice Gabe. Be nice.

I put my phone down. Established eye contact. Remembered I was a person. Remembered we’re all connected. Remembered I was here to serve a purpose. Kindness. Healing. Make people laugh. Etc. Etc.

We talked about the fountain. The flowers. The breeze. The adorable Asian babies in strollers.

“Do you follow the Mets,” he asked next.

“Nope, not at all. I’m sorry.”

I apologized because he seemed a little disappointed.

But it didn’t stop him.

He went on to describe a whole inning to me. Pitch by goddamn pitch.

Losing patience, the back of my brain said, “Excuse yourself and go to the bathroom.”

But I hung in there. Without even looking at my phone, which I was dying to do.

He was a sweet man and deserved some sweetness.

And then, out of nowhere, as if a switch was flicked in the universe, he said, “I’m a healer, you know. I do healings through Jesus.”

Matter of factly, but totally channelled, he spoke clearly about God and faith and love.

Not religiously, but beautifully. Divinely.

How bizarre. I wasn’t there for him, he was there for me.

He was a messenger.

But the message came with a test.

Would I be kind to a stranger? And would I continue to show kindness when I really wanted to cut and run?

Yes.

Thankfully, yes.

Because he finally said, “It ain’t never going to be perfect down here, you know. And I’m not afraid of dyin’. You’re going to see your mother and father and aunts and uncles again. Don’t you worry about it.”

He stood up and finished with, “Alright Gabe, it was nice talking to you. Time for me to stroll around and get my exercise.”

I gave him the respect of not watching as he walked away. Because I had a pretty good feeling he was just going to vanish.

Live Like A Fruit Fly

20160923-135947.jpg

Post Navigation