Let’s Just Be Honest With Ourselves And Each Other

Gasoline.

Zippo.

There are times, many of them, when I feel like torching the entire self-help section of the bookstore.

And after that, I’ll delete everyone on Facebook who posts those cheery memes about how happy we should all be feeling.

This new age, nonsensical horse shit is piled so high, I sometimes need a periscope just to see passed it.

Maybe there’s so much sadness in the world because we’re constantly indoctrinated with concepts which tell us that it’s not okay to be sad. And just maybe, the imposed denial of the sadness we actually feel will result in a compounding of sadness which will haunt us even further.

But here’s one thing from the new age moment which rings out to be true: what you resist, persists.

Maybe it’s time to stop resisting the sadness. Just maybe, if we allowed ourselves to acknowledge the sadness, truly acknowledge it and welcome it home, without trying to bury it under layers of pie in the sky lies, we’d be able to transcend it more naturally.

Do you know how much pressure those Facebook memes must put on some people? I’m sure they feel like sailors on a doomed submarine.

Just last night I talked to a woman whose daughter ran away from home and another woman who’s daughter died from brain cancer. Almost everyday I speak to someone who suffers with different degrees of awfulness.

As for me, I deal with a darkness as well.

No matter how bright and beautiful it is outside, and no matter how much I have to be grateful for, my mind sometimes senses this existence of ours through a filter of subtle gloom.

It’s almost like wordlessly I say to myself, “Yes, all is well today, but what about this or that. Or this or that?”

And then I start feeling sad, because I know better than to allow myself to feel sad.
With that said, maybe it’s time to stop kidding ourselves. Life, in all of its splendor, is simultaneously filled with horror. And for those of us who have experienced true horror, maybe we need to let ourselves off the hook.

Let ourselves off the hook when we’re made to feel weak for not being able to feel happy after using techniques taught in so called self-help books and no-help memes.

And then, and only then, we can start to count our blessings.

But authentically so.

Because we will find blessings in life’s splendor, if we look for them.

Regardless of the horrors.

And probably right under our noses.

Thank you my loved ones, those I know and don’t, for taking the time to be with me through these words,

– gb

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

Exit Reality

Don’t read this if you’re not interested in cleaning out your consciousness.

Still here?

Okay, thanks for sticking around.

Today, while walking into Panera Bread, I slightly smiled when I saw the storefront next door because I thought it said Exit Reality.

But alas, as you can see from the photo, it’s just a real estate agency named Exit Realty.

But before we continue, yes, I know I’m cheating on Starbucks.

Anyway… I’m bothering to bring this up because there’s an important point to be made about human suffering.

Most of human suffering is caused by the thinking mind. And the only way out of this suffering is too deny reality. Exit it. By accepting a new reality. The real reality.

Do I know what that looks like and how to get there?

Yes.

And there’s only one thing you need to do in order to sense the real reality as well:

You just have to allow yourself to listen to me share with you what took me over twenty years to discover. It probably won’t be similar to anything you’ve ever heard before about existence. Click the link below or email me at gabeberman@gmail.com if you’re at all intrigued. I promise, you won’t regret it. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of your life is hinging on it.

With that, I was just getting a refill of iced coffee and I had to wait for a few moments for the half & half because an older gentleman in front of me was slowly adding it to his coffee.

He noticed me and made an effort to hurry it along.

I said, “Take your time. I’m in no rush at all.”

To which he said, without making eye contact because he was concentrating on securing a lid to his cup, “You’ll live a long time with that attitude.”

I answered, “I don’t know about that, but life is definitely too short to make someone feel rushed over milk.”

After I lightened my coffee, I added, “Okay man, have a good one.”

He said, this time with eye contact, “You too. God bless you.”

And that, right there, was more than enough reason to be alive for today.

I am so grateful for this lovely little exchange. And so grateful for anyone reading this who also finds it lovely.

take care, as in, really, take care,
– gabe

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

Download Life’s New Update

The crazy thing is, my mom wouldn’t have had the good time she had today if my dad didn’t die from brain cancer a few years ago.

How’s that for an opening sentence?

Got your attention now, don’t I, you squirrelly bastards…

Anyway…

I just got off the phone with my mom. She played golf somewhere on Long Island today.

She played awfully, since she’s a rookie, but had a lovely day laughing with the ladies she recently met at the gym.

It’s crazy because there’s no way in hell, or even in heaven, today would have unfolded the way it did for my mom if my dad was still around.

They would have been at the beach. Or taking a drive somewhere. Or just sitting around the house together.

And I’m certainly not saying she’s happier to have the opportunity to play with friends and go on little adventures by herself. Neither of us are.

We’re both just relieved that she’s recovered.

Re-blossomed.

Smiling again.

Ahhhh to get chocked up in Starbucks while I write to you, dear reader. Something I’ve grown accustomed to.

So, I said supportively to my mom, “That’s so great that you had fun today.”

To which she said, “Well, I’m making it happen. I’m taking control.”

My God I love when marionettes say this. It’s just about my fav. But that’s a discussion for another time.

For now, “my” strings are being pulled to have this come from these keystrokes: I hate how hard it is to just exist sometimes. Hate. None of us asked to be here. But with that, my love for love
is infinitely more powerful. And I didn’t ask for that either, but I’m so goddamn grateful my cells and soul are arranged this way. And I’ve got more than enough to share with you. So please, in this moment, take a breath with me.

In exchange, all I ask from you is this – the next time you have a choice between kindness and selfishness, please choose kindness.

Because kindness is selflessness.

And selflessness is the operating system of this universe.

Like it or not.

– gabe

Win The War With Your Mind

Love Love Land

Have you seen La La Land yet?

If you haven’t, let me tell you, pay no mind to anything you’ve heard.

It isn’t good.

It isn’t bad.

It’s this:

Exquisite.

An exquisite flow of beauty in celluloid form.

It’s so lovely, and so soulful, I would bet it single handedly balances out the ugliness casting a dark shadow on our lives lately.

Without it, this planet of ours would probably careen off course and spin helplessly into the cold cosmos.

And it’s impossible, at least for someone like me, not to be self reflective while witnessing it unfold like flowers in bloom on screen.

Here’s the thing: I know one day my life in this form will end. And if it’s looked back upon by others, my accomplishments may not amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

But do not be deceived.

For I have loved.

Loved limitlessly, without conditions.

And I have stood in awe of love. Time and time again.

It’s truly the only thing that matters.

Fuck all who say otherwise.

– gb

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

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

It All Just Bubbles Up

Everything is happening at the same time.

The band at the beach club jams out a groove heavy, heartfelt version of Ain’t No Sunshine.

Kids splash around in the adjacent pool.

Middle aged men and woman, making up the majority of the audience, drink “pain killers” from their sand chairs.

An old woman taps her foot to the beat in her wheelchair.

A young girl, around three or four, walks along side her daddy. She uses her palms to shields her ears from the music.

A first aid crew from the pool sprints to a cabana in the distance – never a good sign.

The woman standing next to me is pregnant. Very pregnant.

After shooing it away a half-dozen times, this bastard of a mosquito lands on my ankle and I swat it to death. I bury it in the sand and I’m not exactly thrilled with myself.

Like an undulating ocean, thoughts enter my head, thoughts leave my head. Enter my head, leave my head. Enter my head, leave my head.

“I wonder what’s going to happen to me next,” bubbles up.

See, the thing is, we think we know what’s going to happen, but we don’t. We make plans, sometimes down to the very last detail, and then life unfolds as it will.

The only thing I know for sure is – the Doobie Brothers had it right. The guitarist just belted out, “Without love, where would we be now?”

In the weeds.

In the weeds at best.

love/thanks,
gb

P.S. The band closed the show with Good Lovin and a super spunky hippie chick grabbed the hand of some teenaged boy who was sitting by himself and they danced together in front of everyone. He has Down’s Syndrome. I still feel his smile. And I’m pretty sure it won’t leave me for quite some time.

Check out my new book here:
The Right Isn’t Right

Jesus Picks His Nose

God wanted me to cram two egg and cheese bagels down my gullet this morning.

How do I know the divine’s hand intervened in my breakfast?

Because I ordered one bagel with two eggs and cheese from Dunkin’ Donuts and they handed me two bagels with eggs and cheese instead.

So, of course, I ate them both.

I mean, who am I to get in The Lord’s way?

Or, maybe, it was a test. To see if I’d actually exercise willpower in this situation and abstain from the second engulfing.

But I don’t think so.

Although, there’s really no way to be sure.

Maybe we’re not actually choosing between our choices. And if that’s the case, it would be more accurate to say that “we’re” not actually choosing between “our” choices.

Because what mystics and masters have been saying for thousands of years is now being proven by quantum physics: there’s only one of us.

Everything is one.

The seemingly separateness of the universe is an elaborate illusion.

With that out of the way, I happen to be at a Dunkin’ because one phone call lead to another, which lead me (or “me”) to walking into an auto mechanic shop which lead me to another. And since my car is there now, here I sit and wait.

About an hour ago, I felt something dangling around in my left nostril so I tried to surreptitiously fish it out with a napkin.

I looked up to see if there were any witnesses but all I noticed was an adorable little Asian boy being held by his mommy. And he, perfectly so, was also picking his nose.

Thirty minutes later, a knockout blonde wearing workout clothes waltzed in.

As I was checking her out, a guy working being the counter was also giving her the ol’ up-and-down. And then, like it was happening in a movie, the guy behind the counter gave me a quick look as if to say, “Hey brother, it’s a damn good day, right?”

These events, seemingly so insignificant, mean everything to me.

Because nothing is insignificant in oneness.

Especially with you and I.

Regardless of “space” and “time”.

And that’s one to grow on,

gb

P.S. It’s now many hours later. After intense but rapid deliberation, I decided not to fix my car. Instead, I just hopped in a brand new one for a test spin. And I’m not sure what this means, but the song that came on as soon as I turned on the radio was R.E.M.’s “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It”

P.P.S Thank god for that second bagel because I’ve been at the dealership all damn day and haven’t had a bite to eat since.

P.P.P.S “And I feel fine.”

The loveliest little book you’ll ever own is to be bought here:
<a href=”http://www.amazon.com/Love-Looks-Like-This-Berman/dp/0692665382/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1459204514&sr=1-1&keywords=love+looks+like+this “>Love Looks Like This

The Long Island Medium

Unequivocally, I received a message from my dad tonight.

Some people will chalk this up to coincidence or randomness and I have to tell you, I have as much concern about that as I do for the dreams of mosquitos.

I was going to meet a friend at the diner to have one of our late night chats about life but she had to cancel at the last minute because her friend was going into labor and didn’t want to be alone in the hospital.

So, I stretched out on the couch and switched on the TV.

I clicked around until I found thirty minutes left of Apocolypto.

And although I wasn’t in the mood for the violence and stress of it, I tossed the remote to the side and watched until the closing credits.

I did it for my dad.

He loved this movie so much.

It was his cinematic crack pipe – he couldn’t put it down once it was in front of him. Regardless if my mom rushed out of the room frustratedly saying, “Harold, how many times are you going to watch this?”

She hated the violence and stress of it.

And since I decided to keep it on for my dad, I secretly hoped in my heart for a serendipitous message to reveal itself because, between you and I, I was suffering from an unspecific uneasiness underneath my skin.

But I got jipped.

No wisdom. No insights. No nothing, aside from Mel Gibson’s shmucky name staining the screen.

But as destiny and/or fate would have it, the movie started over again and since Apocolypto is one of those flicks you’d normally only catch from the middle, I let it roll.

And then, within the first few minutes, a message from the heavens was revealed in the lines of dialogue between the village elder Flint Sky and his son Jaguar Paw.

– Flint Sky: Those people in the forest, what did you see on them?

– Jaguar Paw: I do not understand.

– Flint Sky: Fear. Deep rotting fear. They were infected by it. Did you see? Fear is a sickness. It will crawl into the soul of anyone who engages it. It has tainted your peace already. I did not raise you to see you live with fear. Strike it from your heart. Do not bring it into our village.

That was my dad talking to me. Right there.

I shut off the TV and here I am writing to you now, with a few tears in my eyes.

Fear, I’m going to conquer it.

I owe it to myself.

I owe to others.

I’m already almost there.

love/thanks and fearlessness,
gb

Love Looks Like This

Justin Bieber and Kim Kardashian Are Fucking!

Bubby’s plants must have been thirsty.

It’s been weeks since they’ve been watered.

I was never alone in her place before and, at first, it was a bit unsettling.

Talking to her plants made me feel better pretty quickly though.

I told them not to worry. That I’d take care of them.

I watched her die and was the one to identify her body before it was lowered into the ground, but it was still shocking to me that she wasn’t there. Offering me non-vegetarian food I wouldn’t eat. Asking me, again, if I like All In The Family.

Her toothbrush is still in the bathroom. Her white sneakers are still lined up perfectly in the closest. The package of menthol cough drops I recently bought for her is still on the table next to the recliner – the chair which was once my Pop-pop’s.

I looked around a little more, locked up and left.

I thought about how she’d always walk me to the elevator. Sometimes she’d tell me about all of her friends who have died. But she’d always tell me she loved me as the elevator doors opened. I’d always hug her and say it back.

These sweet moments will forever eclipse, easily, how disappointed she was with me.

I know she couldn’t help it. Nobody can.
It’s okay though.

I know I’m enough.

And regardless of how anyone feels about you or has felt about you, or has made you feel about yourself, please trust me when I say that you’re enough as well.

I swear to god you are.

And I know these are just words on a page, but I hope at some point they really resonate with you. Resonate and then soak deep into your cells and soul.

Because…

You

Are

Enough.

And before anyone jumps down my throat for telling people they shouldn’t try to be better, I assure you I’m not saying that. 

What I’m saying, which should be obvious, is that you don’t exist to prove yourself to anyone. You’re here, regardless of whatever the fuck anyone says, to witness the good in the the world and to add to it as often as you can. The end.

Because our toothbrushes and cough drops and plants and the rest of our stuff will outlive us and none of that shit will matter anymore.

But maybe people will talk about how loving you were. And that certainly doesn’t suck.

Anyway, I got outside and there was a spoon on the floor near my car.

Which is just perfect.

“There is no spoon…” – Neo

thank you all for your sympathy and your love and your time – I am truly grateful,
gb

P.S. I’m sorry about the title. But just a little. Maybe it got someone to read it who needed to.

buy my goddamn books here:
www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

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