OMGabe

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

Archive for the category “youthfulness”

Consider The Roses

I drove by a funeral today.

Forty or so people were crowded around a tombstone with their heads down.

I was driving my mom’s convertible, blasting the Oceans 13 soundtrack, and until a moment before, smiling my ass off.

If I were one of the mourners seeing me drive by with the top down and music blasting, I’d probably think, “Jeez, look at that guy. I hope he knows how good he’s got it right now.”

Trust me man, I do. I’ve been exactly where you are.

So, dear reader, do you know how good you’ve got it right now?

I hope so.

Maybe this is a good time to take inventory of your prevailing thoughts.

Because, as much as I hope this doesn’t happen, you might one day find yourself praying for the “problems” you may now have.

In other words, if you have time to stop and smell the roses, do so.

Rip mirrors off the walls, chop the red petals into dust with a razor blade, and snort the fine, flowery lines with a rolled up C-note.

There really isn’t time for anything else and this is the youngest you’ll ever be.

This. Is. The. Youngest. You’ll. Ever. 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

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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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The Old Man And The Aide

I saw an old man with his aide in front of a beauty supply store.

She intended to open the door for him but he said, “I can get it.”

He was a gentleman in his blue jeans, plaid shirt, Members Only-ish jacket and pair of Hush Puppies.

The heavy door resisted his initial pull, but in the end, it was no match for his determination and it relented.

His aide smiled graciously and he followed her into the store.

With ease, I opened the door to the adjacent Starbucks.

But that old man is me. He is you. If we’re fortunate enough to avoid the slings and arrows of life, he’s our fate.

You’d think we’d be kinder to others now. You’d think we’d be kinder to ourselves.

But greed breeds fear and spreads the gospel of not-enoughness. It seems we have no choice but to run rampant like rats in an unwinable rat-race and squander our youthfulness in pursuit of the illusion of future security.

But we do have a choice. We can choose to choose kindness. We can choose to choose to be grateful for the little things. Because trust me, they turn out to be the only things that matter.

The future is now. It shapes itself through you.

With love and thanks,
gabe

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com – the question that haunts us and the answer that helps us heal

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A Letter To Phillip Phillips

I’m sorry I’ve only recently realized this, but “Home” is one of the sweetest, sunniest, most perfect tunes I’ve ever heard.

What caused the delay in my discovery? C’mon man, you’re from Idol. And, well, you know…

Anyway…I listen to this song over and over again while I drive back and forth from Starbucks. Because it’s rock music, and because of the way my head is screwed on, I always assumed you were singing to a specific girl.

But tonight as I was in the car, my soul perked its ears up and it heard something completely different.

Maybe you’re not singing to a girl. Maybe it’s not even you singing in the song. Maybe, just maybe, it’s someone singing to you. Who? You know who.

God.

Listen to your lyrics:

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave (wave) is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m gonna make this place your home

Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m gonna make this place your home

Even if I’m wrong about this on the surface, I’m right.

Thank you for reminding us that we’re not alone,
gabe

My new book is out: The Complete Bullshit-Free and Totally Tested Writing Guide: How To Make Publishers, Agents, Editors & Readers Fall In Love With Your Work

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A Letter To Me

—-Are angels real?

—-Yes. 100%.

—-Either my friend Sheri is an angel or she has one whispering in her ear
when she writes The Other Side Of Ugly. Probably both.

—-Here’s a beautiful email she sent me yesterday:

When I was walking today, it was really foggy out, and it felt so mystical, so Avalonish. I saw these 2 kids, maybe 15-16 years old. Holding hands, laughing, the girl playishly punching her guy in the arm. Both waiting to cross the street. I was caught up in their youthfulness.

I remembered my first kiss, how afraid I was. I remembered going roller skating every Friday with the boy I liked and the “slow” skate where we could hold hands and show off our relationship.

So as I watched these kids run across the street my mind was flooded with these beautiful memories of just being young, no responsibilities beyond helping take care of my brother and sister.

I thought for the very first time in my life, I want to be that age again. I want to feel that innocent beautiful trusting love. I want to be with someone who likes to play. I want a boyfriend/husband who likes to brag that I’m his girl. I want to feel excited when I’m with my girlfriends to share the awesomeness of my guy. I want each kiss to always feel like magic…and so my story was born.

By watching two young teenagers experiencing something that one day they will wish they had again…

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A Letter To Almost Famous

No other movie comes close to capturing it like you do and I’m grateful.

What’s “it”?

It, is music.

It, is love.

It, is the love of music.

It, is that sometimes hazy, sometimes clear memory of the first soulful experience with each.

“I have to go home”

“You are home.”

The words she knows the tune she hums,
gabe

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“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

Click here now—>;;;;;;;;Amazon or B&N to order Live Like A Fruit Fly – The Secret You Already Know

A Letter To You

(This is the newest chapter of The Fruit Fly Strikes Back – The sequel to my book Live Like A Fruit Fly)

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It’s Just Us – chapter 50

I love old memories.

They’re like dust covered treasure maps hidden in the dark attic of your mind. Seemingly gone forever until a mysterious wind blows and instantly uncovers those lost moments in full technicolor.

I love how old memories simultaneously feel like five lifetimes ago and five minutes ago.

My ears burn from the cold wind but I’m smiling. Peripherally, I realize my dad isn’t holding on to the seat any longer. I’m riding a bike by myself for the first time. Freedom. I hear him laughing and clapping in the distance.

And poof, just like that, I turned forty.

But no rants of disbelief this year. No full-court press against gray hairs.

Just you and I sharing this moment together. And soon this moment, like all moments, will

recrystallize into a memory and settle under the dust and darkness.

Before it does though, I want to let you know how grateful I am that you’re here with me.

Live like a fruit fly.

A Letter To This Fucked Up Life Of Ours

Dear Life,

I’ll be brief because I don’t want to keep you away from your all important, full time job of confusing the living shit out of everyone.

I’m watching Saving Private Ryan. I saw it when it first came out in 1998 and it left me shell shocked. The next time I caught it was years later, late night in a hotel room in Atlanta. I was there for some corporate training nonsense because weeks before, I talked my way into some ridiculous technical recruiting gig. Like everyone else, I had bills to pay.

I don’t remember crying in the movie theater but all alone in this dark hotel room, I wept from the core of my being. I covered my eyes with my hands and tears flowed down my fingers while Giovanni Rivisi’s character lay dying from bullet wounds in that grassy field. Right before you, Life, left him, he panted, “Mommy. Mommy. Mommy.”

I literally couldn’t handle it. I needed to talk to someone and since you were the only one around, I picked up the pen and paper next to the phone on the nightstand.

I wrote furiously about seizing the day and making the most of every moment. And now it’s years and years later and I’ve definitely been living a little more, but not to the level where it really counts. And the clock continues to tick.

The thing is, as you know, you keep getting in the way.

Which leads me to ask, what do you want from me man?

I’m not going to wait around for you to write back because I already know the answer. You don’t want a goddamn thing from me. But I can tell by the way things unfold, you strongly suggest that I keep following my gut. And keep being as kind as I can.

Which I will. I promise.

I just wish you could make things a little easier for all of us.

With love and gratitude,
gabe

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“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

Click here now—>;;;;;;;Amazon or B&N to order Live Like A Fruit Fly – The Secret You Already Know

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