OMGabe

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

Archive for the category “awakening”

Keys and Doors.

And now for the most unromantic thing you’ll ever hear:

I know of a couple, both in their twenties, who were watching TV together.

It was a cold Brooklyn night and he was suffering with terrible allergies so he really didn’t feel like walking her home after.

In response to his not so serious bellyaching, she said, “Well, if we lived in the same place, you wouldn’t have to.”

They got married three weeks later.

Just. Like. That.

And today, my parents, would be celebrating their 48th anniversary.

I miss my dad so damn thoroughly.

His absence from my existence tugs at me, unrelentingly, like the rough ocean undertow.

Such is life.

And such is death. It blindsides the living.

With that, a great man and a good friend of mine died today.

Alan Colmes.

He was the only liberal on Fox News and he sometimes played their punching bag.

Which was fine with him because he stood firmly for justice, a healed planet, and the well being of all.

But underneath his political life, right underneath it, he was a spiritual seeker. On the quest for the holy grail of a peaceful mind.

That’s how we met. Many years ago. After he read Live Like A Fruit Fly.

And now, unfortunately, on February 23rd 2017, on my parent’s wedding anniversary, he’s become the poster child for my book which he so enjoyed.

Alan was just sixty-six. He loved his wife ferociously.

May he rest in peace.

So, moving right along with this meandering stream of cosmically unplanned flow of words and spaces, my sister was just in town and she and my mom invited me to go to an indoor flea market with them.

No thanks.

I stayed home.

I didn’t go because the last time I was there, I sat across from my dad in the food court as he handed over his car keys to me.

It was like a veteran police officer relinquishing his badge and gun.

I didn’t know at the time, but that moment would turn out to be the first of countless horrifying ones with him.

His double vision was getting worse and that drive to the flea market was the last time he sat behind the wheel of a car.

He was dead in eleven months. Brain tumor.

Looking back, and hearing about Alan’s passing today, it seems like Life delivers varying degrees of awfulness until we wake up.

Until we wake up to the gift of worrying less.

Worrying less about what truly does not matter.

Because it’s all just going to end anyway. Whether we pretend it won’t or not.

From this point on, I hope to be caused to hold on to this gift more often

Much more often.

And I hope the exact same for you. Yes, you. The person reading this right now.

I’ll close now with a hopeful quote I’ve closed with before. It was said by Ray Manzarek. The keyboard player for The Doors who has also since passed.

“‘The world on you depends, our life will never end.’ The ultimate statement. Our life will never end. And the ancient Egyptians used to say that if you say a man’s name, he is alive. So I take this opportunity to say Jim Morrison.”

And I take this opportunity to say Alan Colmes. And Harold Berman.

love/thanks,
gb

“Meet the new generation of consciousness-raising. Gabe’s simple, yet profound message can be a life-changer.” Live Like A Fruit Fly
―Alan Colmes, Nationally Syndicated Radio Host

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“Mr. Nobody”

“I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid I haven’t been alive enough.”

I sat on the edge of my bed – totally petrified.

Not frightened, but silent and still, like stone. Mesmerized by that quote above.

I heard it at the end of a movie trailer I was watching on my phone just a moment before.

“I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid I haven’t been alive enough.”

Those words landed in the center of the center of the bullseye so they didn’t even need to be thought about.

They just hung in the air in front of me like conspicuous Himalayan prayer flags.

But they evaporated in an instant when my eyes caught an unexpected sight in their periphery.

It was like a glitch in the Matrix.

A World War II bayonet rested beside my bed.

I felt neurons rushing to make their calculations.

Ah, yes.

My mom and sister were going through boxes of old stuff today and one of them must have left it there for me.

It was my dad’s.

He inherited from his dad who guarded Nazi prisoners with it.

They’re both dead now.

And now it’s mine.

I can’t speak for my grandfather (Abraham Berman) but when my dad (Harold Berman) got sick, he told me that he lived long enough and all he cared about at that point was his family not having to see him suffer.

How brave and beautiful and selfless.

It didn’t even occur to him to worry about suffering. His first thought, as always, was about my mom and my sister and me.

But he didn’t get his wish.

I was imprinted with his suffering. Tattooed permanently by it.

And at this point, I’m not afraid of dying either. I just hope that I (Gabriel Berman) will be alive enough to truly live.

And I hope the same for you.

with love and gratitude,
gb

If you haven’t read this yet, it’s time:
Live Like A Fruit Fly

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Biggest Peace

This may mean I’m broken.

But it also may mean I’m whole.

This morning I watched a TED talk on gratitude and the speaker said that after eight years of marriage, she finally realized her husband, upon serving dessert to the family, always gives himself a smaller piece of pie so she could get the biggest.

I completely lost it.

Just lost it.

So, what does this mean about me?

I really don’t know.

And I really don’t care.

Either way, I wouldn’t trade it.

thank you as always,
gb

buy my goddamn books here:
www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

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Still Life (Talking)

Vivaldi.

Coffee.

Sweatpants, sweatshirt, warm slippers.

A squirrel is squirreling in the grass outside the kitchen window.

Moss outlines the bricks of the brick patio.

Sunlight.

Shadows.

My mind?

At ease and still, like a painting of a pond.

But in a moment, the old ghosts return to haunt. I should be succeeding. Vanquishing. Proving myself. Making better use of the time.

Hmm, something is definitely different today though. The ghosts are just empty sheets with holes cut out for eyes.

They’re no longer the leads in this play and leave the stage just as quickly as they entered the scene.

Although I’ve been strangled by the feeling of insufficiency for as long as I’ve had language, the urge to impress anyone, even myself, now feels prehistoric.

I am enough.

Right here, right now, I am enough.

And I don’t care who else is on board with this. The squirrel knows what’s up though.

I am enough.

I certainty don’t invite it, but death could come today and I’d be okay with it.

I am complete.

I always have been.

And so are you.

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

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