OMGabe

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

Archive for the tag “angels”

Front Row Seats

Until it stops, which may or may not ever happen, evil seems to arise in this world.

But with that, I have arisen to counteract this unevolved evil with love (sometimes expressing itself as tough love), kindness, and compassion.

Why two sides with varying degrees of both in between?

You can look at life like it’s a play on a stage, and we’re all playing our parts perfectly.

But since it doesn’t seem like we have chosen which side of the struggle we’re on (because it seems to have been chosen for us), I am just so grateful for my casting as someone who always, without exception, stands for goodness, light, beauty, selflessness and truth.

What about you?

Where do you stand?

Where do you want to stand?

sending love to everyone reading this right now,
– gb

P.S. As I was just about to publish this on my blog, a saw a homeless man ask a nonsensical question to another man who walked out of Starbucks. He gave some sort of answer, walked a few steps a way, came back, and asked the homeless man if he can use a few bucks. He nodded and the other guy took two dollars out of his wallet and gave it to him. This has been my favorite part of the play today. Thank you for reading.

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

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I Met A Messenger Today – the sequel

“Shit. This fucking guy wants to talk to me?” I thought.

(Yes. There’s lots of cursing in my internal dialogue.)

I just wanted to sit there, upload pics to Instagram like a motherfucker (that one was just thrown in there for my own fun), suck on my venti iced coffee, and then, in between it all, dwell on the perfect flowers which encircled the man-made geyser/water-fountain at this outdoor mall I found myself at.

But this chubby old guy with a Brooklyn accent had to chime in with, “The sound of the fountain. It’s really nice.”

“Shit, and he’s autistic,” I joked to myself.

Be nice Gabe. Be nice.

I put my phone down. Established eye contact. Remembered I was a person. Remembered we’re all connected. Remembered I was here to serve a purpose. Kindness. Healing. Make people laugh. Etc. Etc.

We talked about the fountain. The flowers. The breeze. The adorable Asian babies in strollers.

“Do you follow the Mets,” he asked next.

“Nope, not at all. I’m sorry.”

I apologized because he seemed a little disappointed.

But it didn’t stop him.

He went on to describe a whole inning to me. Pitch by goddamn pitch.

Losing patience, the back of my brain said, “Excuse yourself and go to the bathroom.”

But I hung in there. Without even looking at my phone, which I was dying to do.

He was a sweet man and deserved some sweetness.

And then, out of nowhere, as if a switch was flicked in the universe, he said, “I’m a healer, you know. I do healings through Jesus.”

Matter of factly, but totally channelled, he spoke clearly about God and faith and love.

Not religiously, but beautifully. Divinely.

How bizarre. I wasn’t there for him, he was there for me.

He was a messenger.

But the message came with a test.

Would I be kind to a stranger? And would I continue to show kindness when I really wanted to cut and run?

Yes.

Thankfully, yes.

Because he finally said, “It ain’t never going to be perfect down here, you know. And I’m not afraid of dyin’. You’re going to see your mother and father and aunts and uncles again. Don’t you worry about it.”

He stood up and finished with, “Alright Gabe, it was nice talking to you. Time for me to stroll around and get my exercise.”

I gave him the respect of not watching as he walked away. Because I had a pretty good feeling he was just going to vanish.

Live Like A Fruit Fly

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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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Free Range Thoughts

The problem with gratefulness is that it invariably leads to sadness for me.

Here I am, having coffee while watching cherry blossoms undulate in the wind, and I just feel grateful.

Grateful for the coffee.

The wind.

The cherry blossoms.

My eyes.

And grateful just to be able to feel grateful.

And thats the part that kills me.

There are millions of people, many millions, as well as other animals all over the world, who are suffering so badly as I type this.

Starving children. Raped women. Migrant farmers. Cows in corporately controlled slaughter houses.

And here I am wondering, “Are those marigolds or cherry blossoms. Is ‘marigold’ even a word or am I making that up? Goddamn, this is good coffee.”

Sadness sets in and lingers like rats on a ship.

Until I remind myself, once again, that it would be doing a greater injustice to those who are suffering if I didn’t allow myself to feel grateful for what I feel grateful for when I can.

How dare I squander the miracle of being a non-sufferer?

So, I allow myself to continue to feel grateful for what I feel grateful for.

And just now, while writing this, I’ve decided to also feel grateful for suffering that ends. If history has shown us anything, it’s that anything can change at any moment.

And from my perspective, it seems as though good prevails.

Eventually.

Thankfully.

thank you,
gb

P.S If you dug this, please share it with your friends so they can dig it too.

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What Do You Want To Do With Your Life?

Point a gun to my belly and ask me what I really want to do with the rest of my life and I’d honestly say:

Beauty.

I’d love nothing more than to dedicate my entire existence to it.

To be completely committed to blocking out anything other than what’s beautiful.

Being in absolute awe of it. Always.

All ways.

And, just as importantly, or maybe even more so, to add as much beauty to this world of ours as I can. Right on up until my last breath.

I just want to write love poems all day.

I want to look in the eyes of all who are suffering and tell them that I’m with them. And that I’ll never leave them alone. Even if I can’t always be there. And, that I see no other outcome then the miraculous.

I want to stand in warm breezes radiating gratefulness.

Laugh with my sister until my ribs rupture.

Hug strangers who look like they can use one.

Bring water to thirsty dogs.

Fall in love with myself. I mean, really fall in love with myself and then literally sense myself in everyone. Without exception.

I want to wake up smiling.

I just want to wake up smiling, without worrying about money.

I just want to wake up smiling, without wasting another day waiting for my life to start.

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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June 14 2014

As of twenty-three minutes ago, my dad would have been seventy-two years old.

If he was still around, I’d probably open my eyes widely in his direction and instigate a bit with, “Seventy-two, huh?”

But per usual, he wouldn’t take the bait. He’d just smile and shake his head at me.

“It’s better than the alternative,” was his famous line when people complained about getting older on their birthdays.

A few nights ago, I watched up to the part when Michael confronts Apollonia’s father in GF1 (the original Godfather). Alone in the dark, I cried until I was out of tears.

Like most father and son teams, this was our movie. If we found it on TV while clicking through the channels, control of the remote control would be relinquished and it would remain untouched until the closing credits.

And now here I sit at the kitchen table, in his seat, listening to his favorite song Take Five by Dave Brubeck, in efforts to somehow…I don’t know…invoke the spirits maybe to give me a meaningful message.

But the truth is, the spirits revealed their message before I even knew to ask them to tonight.

While mindlessly making a cup of tea before starting to write, I noticed these words printed on the tab of the teabag: The purpose of life is to enjoy every moment.

The purpose
of life
is to enjoy
every moment.

I think I can feel my dad agreeing from the other side.

With that said, remember to be loving to your loved ones. Even if they make it really hard for you to do so.

They sometimes leave you faster than you’d ever imagine.

Happy Birthday Dad.

I love you and miss you immeasurably.

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Everything You Need To Know About Me

I don’t know about wine.

I don’t know my way around Manhattan.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.

All I know is that I currently reside on a spherical rock which rotates on its axis at 1,000 miles per hour while it revolves around a massive fireball at 67,000 miles per hour.

And that’s more than enough for me right now.

That, and music.

And kindness. 

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 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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When Cameron Was In Egypt Land…

Why was last night different than all other nights?

Because last night was the second night of Passover, and for the second night in a row, I drove my grandma home after our menagerie of matzoh.

That was my dad’s job.

And now it’s mine.

Earlier in the evening, everyone sat around the table – ate, laughed and pretended to be religious for fifteen minutes.

Including me.

However, I also felt like banging my fists on the table and screaming, “Holy fuck Batman, how are we all acting so normal?”

Maybe that’s what happens when you lose a loved one. Eventually, everything clicks back into place and you just roll with it. Even if it clicks a bit differently than it used to.

Your mom cooks for the family by herself, your brother-in-law hides the matzoh so the kids can scramble to find it, and you get into your dad’s car and drive your grandma back to her apartment in Long Beach.

Life goes on.

But with that said, I once again walked downstairs this morning, and literally felt my dad sitting at the kitchen table. Wearing his blue bathrobe, reading the Times, and eating lots of eggs and gross onions.

Everyone says in due time, things will feel normal again.

Normal?

That’s the last thing I want to feel.

Normalcy might tarnish my memories. And I need them to remain digitally clear.

Because they’re all I have left.

“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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Nirvana Is In The Nostrils

“When I first started working, they called me The Kid,” said a man in his early sixties in the barbershop today.

I was getting scissor snipped, and this guy, The Kid, was talking to the owner of the place while waiting for his turn in the chair.

He continued, “They all use to say, ‘Look out for The Kid!'”

“And now, I almost can’t believe it, they call me Grandpa. Or they call me the old man. ‘Hey Old Man, how’s it going buddy?'”

In the mirror, I saw him smiling between words.

Thankfully.

Because that smile, like an aspirin of last resort, halted my heart from crumbling as I listened to him while watching a mixture of gray and black hairs fall from my head.

Tic

Toc

Tic

Toc

Tic toc.

Tic toc tic toc

Tictoc Tictoc Tictoc

tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-tictoc-BAM!

Thirty years passed before this guy’s eyes just like that.

And it’s happening to all of us.

But not in this instant.

Because it’s happening when we’re not in this instant.

When we’re somewhere else in our minds.

Focused on the illusion of the past or a figment of a future, our life hits the accelerator and it approaches light speed.

We’re hurled through space and time and BAM, we’re siting in a barbershop, taking about diabetes and hip replacements.

Is there a way to slow it down?

Can we cling more to this moment?

Yes, of course.

But it’s going to take an inner revolution.

A crusade.

An adoption of a concept, so rare, that it runs counter to the constant bombardments of society’s accepted normalcy.

Are you ready to receive the coveted secret of all enlightened masters?

Well, ready or not, here it comes: Worry Less.

Worry less.

Can it be that simple?

Yes.

Simple, but certainly not easy.

Because we’ve by conditioned by the fear based, powers-that-be, to worry incessantly.

We’re so conditioned to worry that it has become as normal as breathing.

But imagine living a life where you can just breathe without it being attached at the hip of soul-stunting worry?

And that, right there, is the answer.

It’s the answer to the question: but how do we become freedom fighters in this revolution against worry?

We breathe just to breathe.

We convert from the blind religion of worry, to the grace of conscious breathing.

We make our entire existence into a meditation.

Because with or without your worries, life is unfolding as it will.

And before you scream at me, yes, I know, there’s plenty to worry about. And trust me, I worry with the best of them at times, but eventually I remember – nirvana is in the nostrils.

So listen up, please, I can go on and on about this, but talking too much about slowing down the clock will invariably speed it up.

You’re just going to have to trust me.

Witness yourself breathing.

Make it the most important part of your life.

Move worry to the back burner.

Allow this intelligent universe of ours to actually be intelligent.

Your next breath, and the one after that, and the one after that, can stretch this instant out into eternity.

I promise.

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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