OMGabe

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

Archive for the category “consciousness”

What The Fuck Is Everyone Freaking About?

What’s the big shock over recent news?

The United States of America was born in the butchering of Native American Indians.

The United States of America profited on the whipped, bloody backs of millions of enslaved Africans.

And 61,900,651 voted for Donald Trump.

The only people we should be pointing fingers at, are ourselves.

As my dad used to say, “We have met the enemy, and it is us.”

– gb

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

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Not Thinking, Being Thought

I noticed my hand reach for the iced coffee to the right of my iPad.

I completely wasn’t conscious of it until my fingers felt the condensation on the cup.

Marionette string theory – the end – .

love/thanks,
gb

P.S – Dear Starbucks employee – it’s Gabe. There’s a “e” at the end. Not Gab like flab.
Gabe, you know, like flabe.

The loveliest little goddamn book ever is available here:
Love Looks Like This

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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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How I Wish You Were Here

Just giving you a heads up, this isn’t going to be worth reading.

And yes, I know that sounds like a ploy to actually get you to read, but I swear it’s not.

It’s just something I know I need to write, so I’m going to. But it’s not going to be good. I really have nothing of value to say to anyone right now.

I’m just sitting here. On the couch. In the dark. Watching Good Will Hunting. With tears in my eyes.

A perfect movie. Which I won’t do a disservice to by talking about.

It’s just perfect, that’s all.

Especially tonight.

At the end of this day.

Three years exactly since I stood over my dad and watched him take his last breath.

I miss him so much.

Also, coincidentally, today is the day that I found out that I’m not sick.

I had a bit of a health scare but like I said, I’m good.

Before I was wheeled in for the endoscopy, a few days after the esophagram I had to have, I thought about the time in college I had surgery on my right arm after breaking it rollerblading.
I dreamt of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were during the operation. At least, I thought I was dreaming about it. In reality, I was waking up from the anesthesia and the doctors were listening to it in the operating room.

And check this out, a moment before they induced me into to la la land today, I noticed a framed photo of the moon on the wall. The caption read: The dark side of the mood?

More evidence pointing to how the universe is intricately connected and more proof that every “coincidence” is a reminder of that connection. Winks from an ineffable intelligence.

And, just maybe, a wink from my dad. Letting me know it’s all going to be okay.

Which, I’m so grateful to say, it was. Is.

love/thanks,
gb

“Just do what’s in your heart son, you’ll be fine.” – Sean Maguire to Will Hunting. And just maybe, another wink from my dad to me. I’ll choose to believe it was.

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

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Beauty For The Sake Of Itself

I’ve quit, completely cold turkey, many times.

I’d be in the shower or maybe in Starbucks and out of nowhere I’d say to myself, “That’s it, I quit. I’m never writing again.”

Why should I even bother anymore?

I thought I’d be a bestseller by now. But the cold truth is, hardly anyone reads my stuff. Even when I give it away for free.

So, what’s the point?

The point is this: I can’t let myself be a goddamn hypocrite. The world is full of them and I’m sure as hell not going to add to the murky mess.

Discouraged authors and artists often ask me, “Why should I continue trying?”

I always respond with a strong dose of, “If you can add beauty to the world, do so. Even if no one will ever see it.”

Because beauty, for the sake of beauty, is important. Important as anything else or maybe even more so.

And imagine if you reach just one person. I mean, really reach them. Deep down in their soul.

A women in Sweden read through my blog today. The one, statistically speaking, you’re probably not reading right now.

She sent me an email saying, “Im smiling and I’m thankful for your writing and I feel honored to read it. If you knew my story you will see how magical i feel this is… Me sitting here reading your words. And how much they mean to me and truly speak to my innermost essence…it’s a miracle.”

That surely doesn’t pay my bills. Shit, it doesn’t even pay for this cup of coffee I’ve been nursing.

But it justifies my writing. It justifies my entire existence.

I was able to make someone glow who lives halfway around the world. Just by doing what I knew I needed to do.

Maybe I’ll never be a bestseller. And maybe you’ll never play for the Yankees or have your work hang in the Louvre or teach penguins how to play parcheesi.

Regardless, people who aren’t aware that they’re counting on you, are counting on you.

If you’ve been given gifts, share them.

And please check out and support my new site: www.DoYouNeedAMiracle.com

Thank you…

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The Blind Leading The Blind

I’m worried about my car and this woman can’t even drive.

Not only can’t she drive, she can’t even see the front door at Starbucks.

A few minutes ago, I walked in to grab a coffee while she attempted to walk out.

Kazoo, her seeing-eye dog, went for a cookie crumb wedged in between the cushions of a comfy chair, and I grabbed her folding, old-lady-cart to help her navigate.

I stood outside with her for a few minutes as she confirmed with a van driver if his van was the one she was actually supposed to be on.

She was incredibly grateful for my helping hand.

But my God, I don’t know who was more grateful in the moment, me or her.

Eating, showering, walking back and forth to the auto mechanic, twice, and of course peeing a million times, allowed for my arrival at Starbucks at the perfect, precise moment.

Perspective.

Its lesson is everywhere.

The truth is, I don’t give a shit about the car. And I also don’t give a shit about not having one.

It’s going to cost a fortune to fix my dad’s old car, the one I’ve been driving while I’ve been back up in New York, and my mom was less than thrilled about hearing the news from me.

I was feeling bad that she was feeling bad and then boom: Kazoo and her mom.

Perspective.

I texted my mom to see if she caught the train on time and, since I assume liability for everything, I apologized for the stress of a new heartache.

She texted back, “I’m not stressed. It’s not a glioblastoma (kill shot brain tumor my dad had a three of). It’s only money. Nothing gets me that crazy anymore.”

I’m sure she felt like she was telling the truth, but nevertheless, it was a lie.

Everything still gets to her.

But it’s not her fault. Everything gets to everyone.

Even after all of the loss, and all of the suffering, we’re still tragic victims of the trivial.

We’re consumed with fear about the future and we waste the present worrying about an illusion we have infinitesimal control of.

If you’re now expecting a tirade about gratefulness, don’t worry, it ain’t coming.

Because that would just sound so awful: Worried about your car? Well, be grateful you’re not a blind woman struggling to get through a door.

That would make it seem like she has nothing to be grateful for. And then poor Kazoo would get so sad.

Poor Kazootles.

However, I will say this: We need to be more aware of where are minds are.

If there’s something to worry about, worry away like a champ. But just allow for a little.

Because it sure as shit isn’t going to alleviate anything.

So, go worry, catch yourself worrying, and then force yourself to point your attention to something beautiful. A tree, a smile, a breath, a memory etc etc.

In one form or another, even if it’s simply old age, that kill shot is coming. For all of us.

And the last thing we’re going to want to be filled with in those final moments is regret.

With that said, Kathy’s Song by Simon & Garfunkel is now playing in Starbucks. I’m going to end here because I can still hear my dad singing along with it in the car and I’m trying not to cry in front of everyone.

Thank you, as always, for reading.

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

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

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Time Travel Sucks

I almost hit a woman with my car today.

Intentionally.

I pulled into the post office and some woman was standing in the only available spot, talking to another woman parked in the adjacent spot.

I didn’t want to be rude with a typical hitting of the horn, so I just idled there, motionless, with a body length between us.

You’d think the grumbling hole in the muffler would have awakened her to my dangerously close, four thousand pound SVU, but, alas, she didn’t bat a fucking eyelash.

What to do, what to do?

A friendly neighborhood tappity-tap honk?

Rev the engine?

Pin her to the side of the building with my bumper?

Since the post office was closing in five minutes and twenty-three seconds and I really needed to mail something to Los Angeles, I decided to just sit there and wait it out like a passive aggressive asshole.

Miss princess finally figured out that she was on the losing end of a physics equation, so she finally got out of the way.

She offered the I’m sorry wave and once again apologized once we were both inside.

“I went to high school with that woman and now our kids go to high school together.”

To be friendly, I asked her what school.

East Rockaway High School.

I went to the nearby Lynbrook High and I’m not sure why I did, but I heard myself offering her this information.

“Do your kids go there now,” she asked.

My kids?

I almost turned around like Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver to see if there was someone standing behind me.

How could she be taking to me?

My kids? I’m just a kid myself.

Wait, what’s that you say?

I’m forty-one?

Really?

No.

No way.

Shit. You’re right.

How in God’s name could this have happened?

Lets review…I remember jumping into the fountain at my college graduation, I blinked a few times, and here I am, innocently in line at the post office.

Twenty years.

Poof.

While everyone else was buying houses, losing their hair and having kids, I was…

Well..

I really don’t know what I was doing.

Surviving I guess.

Statistics say that I must have experienced some joy in between, but it definitely wasn’t enough.

I don’t feel, in the moment, that it was enough.

But that’s the price I paid for rocking Status Quo’s cruise ship.

Would I do it again if presented with the same set of choices?

Of course.

Because I’d be blind to other alternatives.

It’s carve my own path, or perish.

Does this path lead to joy?

I sure as hell hope so.

Regardless, I’ll keep on bringing it to others so I know this long, strange trip hasn’t been in vain.

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

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

 

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Cosmic Drano

My friend’s parents are complete assholes.

It’s true. So, why should I beat around the bush and call it anything other than what it is?

His dad is an asshole and his mom is asshole.

And before you jump down my throat for not sounding “spiritual” enough (not you of course, but other lackeys reading this right now), let me assure you: I simultaneously see their inner essence. I see their perfect souls as clearly as I see my fingers typing on my iPad.

With that said, they’re cup runneth over with ego. And it camouflages their intention to love.

Their fear, and selfishness, and judgement, bubbles up and oozes over like lava from an active volcano and my friend invariably gets trapped in it like those poor bastards in Pompeii.

Who’s fault is it though?

You might think I’m going to say it’s my friend’s fault, but I’m not going to.

Why does he have to be as evolved as an Eckhart Tolle in order to simply get through a dinner or phone call with them?

Why can’t they just chill the fuck out and realize the truth?

What truth?

There is no spoon.

I remember when my parents used to visit me back in Florida. If I didn’t commit to a mantra of forgiveness, I’d end up swallowing my own tongue in an intentional act of seppuku in order to escape.

But I now sit in a Starbucks on Long Island after watching my dad dwindle away for eleven months from brain cancer.

And there’s nothing I wouldn’t trade away to hear his voice again.

Because I know, as I’ve always known, there is no spoon.

All of that ego-based bullshit is just that: bullshit.

It has no real weight. It’s an illusion.

And in one moment it’s here, and the next it’s not.

Gone.

Forever.

Like a warm dream you once had as a child.

And disappearing with that illusion, are our bodies.

Gone.

Forever.

Like a warm dream you once had as a child.

When will our loved ones figure out that we are just passing through transitory states together? Transitory states together with very limited time.

When will they fully focus on the only thing that matters?

When? Probably never.

That’s why we’ll have to focus on forgiveness. Because forgiveness unclogs the passages to gratitude.

Start with forgiving yourself for becoming so irritable at times.

It’s not your fault.

Because you just want unconditional love to flow. And how can that ever be faulty?

“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

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

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And The Killer Is…

Dhani Harrison said his father, George, rarely gave him advice.

“The only two things he felt I had to do in my life were be happy and meditate,” he once told Rolling Stone.

I quoted this to a friend of mine the other day because she was feeling uninspired and directionless.

I then said, “You’re healthy, your family is healthy, you have have money in the bank, why don’t you just allow yourself to sit there in Starbucks and chill.”

She knew this. Of course she knew this.

But she got caught up in comparison. She felt discouraged with just “being” while watching all of the busy people “doing”. They were rushing around, coming and going, typing with intention on their laptops, and seemingly, living lives with some sort of purpose.

And I’m sure she looked through Facebook with all of those pictures of perfect, happy people with their perfect, healthy meals and thought, “Jesus man! What the hell am I doing with myself?”

It’s not her fault to feel this way. And it’s not yours if you feel this way as well.

I know I sure do at times.

Our society is built on comparison. It fuels the machine. 

But comparison, when you’re trying to live a gentle, spiritual life, is the killer.

Do you hear that?

Comparison is the killer.

And what are we really comparing ourselves too? Usually, mere illusions.

A few weeks ago, I typed to an old friend on Facebook, “I’m so happy that you and your wife look so happy. And your kids are so cute. Good for you man, you deserve it.”

A few hours later he responded with, “Thanks so much. But do you really think we’re going to post pictures of us fighting?”

It’s all an illusion. Just a very convincing illusion.

If you must compare yourself to others, skip over the rats in the race. Look for the people who are simply sitting there. Sitting there with a slight smile and breathing just to breathe.

There’s a good chance these people aren’t always happy, because, as you know – life sometimes has a sick sense of humor. But they’ve obviously learned to enjoy the times when there’s nothing better to do than just enjoy the time.

The clock continues to click regardless.

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

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

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Can You Handle The Truth?

Was Karl Marx right?

Is religion the opiate for the masses?

Hallucinogenic is probably more correct.

In my completely non-humble opinion, religion warps the truth about God.

It’s like a bad LSD trip.

What’s the truth about God?

We can’t even answer this because the question itself is faulty.

It’s like asking – what’s the truth about truth? Or, what’s the God about truth? Or, of course, what’s the God about God?

Head explode yet?

Don’t sweat it. I can barely keep up and I’m the one writing this (kind of).

What’s the truth about God?

God is truth. Truth is God.

So you see, as crazy as it sounds, atheists believe in God more than many religious people.

Because they believe in truth.

Many religious people believe they’re the sole keepers of truth. But how can their truth be more true than the truth of others?

It can’t.

That, as Spock would say, is illogical.

Religions are stories based on truth.

And stories are just stories. Regardless of how old and ornate the churches and temples are.

So, what is the truth? What would be the one rule of God if she/he/it revealed the one, holy commandment?

Before we get to that, let me tell where this is all bubbling up from.

A friend of mine is a catastrophic loss insurance adjuster and told me the other day that a very religious man didn’t allow him into his house on a Saturday after Hurricane Sandy.

This is warped thinking. A bad trip.

If it wasn’t for the hallucinogenic of religion, any truth seeking person would ask, “How come it’s okay for God to destroy my house but not okay for him to send over one of his angels on the Sabbath to help fix it?”

God didn’t destroy the house? You mean to tell me that God is separate from the weather?

It doesn’t take deep inquiry for the illusion to fade into mere mist.

Which brings us back to the one, holy commandment:

Love.

Love yourself, and others, unconditionally.

Love without condition, expectation, or exception.

Unconditional love for ourselves and others is like the needle in Mia’s heart in Pulp Fiction. It awakens all.

And if our old stories teach us anything other than unconditional love, it’s time to let them go.

Truth/God/Love is our savior.

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

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

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