Geppetto

“Just remember that I love you.”

Through struggling breaths, my grandma said this to me last night from her hospital bed before I left for the night.

“I love you too,” I said in return.

My mom was completely convinced that her mom’s hospital bed was transitioning to her death bed.

Her death bed, by sun up.

I was on the fence about it, but just in case, I was comfortable with those final words.

They were perfect.

And with that, here she is today, miraculously better.

Even more evidence pointing to the universe’s marionette strings.

But why would the universe pull her to be snippy with my mom and exude zero gratefulness for anything?

I have no idea.

I won’t even hazard a guess.

Que sera sera is my only answer to the question “why”.

Always.

Without exception.

I’m just grateful, so incredibly grateful, for my health today, and so grateful, so incredibly grateful that I’m pulled to offer kindness often.

And just remember dear reader, I love you.

Yes, you.

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…

Reflections On Reflections

Looking for reasons not to give us the money we asked for, two guys with bad teeth and beer bellies inspected my dad’s car with staged faces of disapproval.

We haggled for a minute, for old time’s sake, but quickly agreed on a price and shook on it.

My mom cried a little.

I couldn’t watch them drive it away.

I know I’m not the first son to write about his dead father’s car so I’ll spare you from what’s already been said so many times. But c’mon, you know how it is, part of his soul was in that damn thing.

While I was riding shotgun, he’d point to some woman in the street and say, “Do you know her?”

And like a slight-of-hand magician who masterfully misdirects the audience, he’d quickly press the button for my heated seat as I looked away. In the middle of the summer. And I’d sit there, with my ass on fire, instead of giving in to the fact that he got me.

Bastard.

Before we sold the car yesterday, my sister called and asked me to look under the driver’s side seat for toothpicks. So I got on my hands and knees and found a few for her.

My dad’s old toothpicks.

A little gross maybe, but after Hurricane Sandy had her way with almost everything in the house, they’re just about the only things we have left of his. That, and our DNA.

Our hands are (were) so different though. His were thick and powerful from working with them for most of his life while mine are, to be honest, fit for a yoga class. And while I’ve been driving his car around for the last year or so, I’d often look at my hands on the steering wheel and think of his.

It’s kind of like when I get my haircut now. I’ve been going to his barber since I’ve been back here in New York. An old Cuban lady he liked a lot.

I sit in her chair and look at myself in the mirror and I think about what he might have been thinking about as he looked at himself in the same mirror.

In the reflection of the reflection in the mirror behind me, you can see the tuxedo place across the street where my dad and I rented tuxedos for my sister’s wedding. I cried happily that day but as I write this now, my tears have a different tone.

I’m sitting at the dining room table, listening to Time Out by Dave Brubeck. My dad’s all time favorite album.

Years ago when I wrote for the Miami Herald, I’d come home for a visit and procrastinate the days away until needing to pull an all-nighter to get my column in before deadline. I’d write right here at this table and my dad would wake up at around four in the morning to ask me how I was doing.

My parents were proud of me then.

I know this is totally getting off topic, but hopefully my dad is looking down on me now and has finally realized that it’s not always easy being me.

Anyway, my mom already has a boyfriend. And I guess I have the right to be a prick about it, but I remember to take the high road instead. I’m just happy she’s happy again.

She certainly deserves to be.

“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

You’re Awesome (no really, you are)

My friend’s wife texted me this afternoon about a dream she had about me.

We were swimming together, and then she woke up.

Why is my friend’s wife dreaming about me?

That’s the first question you ask?

Is it that unbelievable?

How come you never bothered to ask why more of my friend’s wives aren’t dreaming about me?

Anyway, as I was saying, my friend’s wife texted me this afternoon about a dream she had about me (she obviously needs to be medicated, severely, or a priest must be brought in for an exorcism).

Using every last bit of willpower I had stored up in my bone marrow to resist making sexual innuendos, I asked her about how’s she been.

She answered, and I quote, “I’m amazing! Everything is great here.”

We volleyed a few more messages back and forth and then, like a pissed off bull in Pamplona, it rammed me right in the solar plexus.

I’ve never, ever, been able to say things are amazing for me.

I mean, I can surely type those words, and I guess I could push those words passed my lips, but it would be a lie.

Cosmically, I know, down to the depths of my DNA, that everything is unfolding exactly as it must.

But if I allow myself, just for a moment, to be a normal, disconnected guy, sitting here in Starbucks as I type this to you, I’d have to admit that I’d like to feel what amazing feels like for a change.

Of course I’m so grateful for the micro and the macro, the alpha and the omega, and the yin and the yang, but amazing?

It doesn’t take a genius or guru to know that amazing is lightyears better than not amazing.

So, what can I do about this?

Well, what does amazing entail?

According to the dictionary, the definition of amazing is: causing great surprise or wonder.

I call bullshit.

We all know when my friend’s wife said, “Amazing!” she sure as hell didn’t mean: causing great surprise (unless she was talking about finding me in her dreams – but then again, the word she probably would have used is “gross”).

She obviously meant amazing, as in awesome.

The question now becomes: is it possible to pull myself off of the bull’s horns, seal the wounds, and then set a course for amazing?

Yes.

In one move.

All I must do is redefine amazing.

I’m redefining it to mean: awesome and/or the potential for awesomeness.

Do I have the potential for awesomeness?

My God yes.

As do you.

I promise you, you do.

How can you check for yourself?

There’s a very simple test: put your hand over your heart. If you can feel something beating, you’ve got the potential.

From now on, instead of my standard okay when someone asks me how I’m doing, I’m going to say amazing.

Because I’m alive and full of divine potential.

And so are you.

Welcome to the world of the infallible, self-fulfilling prophecy.

“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

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

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

Dear Dad…

Dear Dad,

I’m sitting alone at the kitchen table, staring at my iPad.

Paul Simon’s “The Boy In The Bubble” just came on Pandora.

I can still hear you singing along with the song (typing that made me cry).

– – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – — – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – — – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – — – – – – – –

Amazing. “Son of a Preacher Man” is playing now.

Are you sending me a sign that you know I’m writing about you (we’d look over to each other, smile, and silently agree that we were done changing channels when we caught Pulp Fiction on TV)?

I hope so.

Actually, I know so.

Thank you.

I couldn’t miss you more.

love/thanks,
gabe

Words I Wish I Wrote

“You can play the game and you can act out the part
Though you know it wasn’t written for you
But tell me, how can you stand there with your broken heart
Ashamed of playing the fool
One thing can lead to another; it doesn’t take any sacrifice
Oh, father and mother, sister and brother
if it feels nice, don’t think twice

Just shower the people you love with love
Show them the way that you feel
Things are gonna work out fine if you only will
Shower the people you love with love
Show them the way you feel
Things are gonna be much better if you only will…”
– James Taylor “Shower The People”

FYI – the first version of Live Like A Fruit Fly ended with JT’s line, “The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.”

The truly great writers need very few words.

“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

iLiveLikeAFruitFly

Steve Jobs: Secrets of Life in 1 minute and 42 seconds:
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www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

For Everyone Alone On Valentine’s Day

I have such sympathy for people who feel alone.

I used to feel that way, and it’s awful.

You stand there in CVS, looking at everyone picking out Valentine’s Day cards, and you think, “Why not me?”

It sucks. I know.

But to that I say, as I would say to just about anything else, all in due time.

If you’ve been patiently waiting for your soulmate for forever, what I’m about to tell you isn’t going to make you feel any better about it. Nevertheless, it doesn’t make it less true.

You’re not alone.

It’s scientific fact. We’re all connected and it’s unequivocally proven by physicists worldwide.

The separation you sense is pure illusion.

If you allow yourself to become aware of this, if you allow yourself to know this, maybe, just maybe, you won’t be “alone” for much longer.

This is an aspect of the law of attraction. And the law of attraction isn’t something you get to believe in or not. It’s as real – as gravity.

Happy Valentine’s Day. From me to you (me).

love/thanks,
gabe (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

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com