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

Archive for the tag “cure”

Happy Father’s Day

Live Like A Fruit Fly 

So many caring people. It’s the reason for suffering. To give others the opportunity to care.

“So many caring people. It’s the reason for suffering. To give others the opportunity to care.”

Normally, I would have ended a post with a line like that, but this one is just too damn significant and too damn beautiful for anything less than top billing.

And now, with that, I don’t even feel like explaining it’s origin anymore.

So, I won’t.

I’ll just say it again, and pray that it marinates in the minds of those who may see this.

Truth or not, it’s a lovely perspective on this often unfortunate life of ours.

“So many caring people. It’s the reason for suffering. To give others the opportunity to care.”


explanation – please, please click and give if/what you can:


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.


“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.


A Love Letter

Dear Reader,

I love you.

Yes, you.

The person reading these words right now.

I don’t care if you’re male or female, old or young, straight or gay, white or black, yin or yang, I love you.

Really, I do.

I am so in love with your essence, just thinking about it simultaneously wrecks and rebuilds me.

What do I mean by your essence?

It’s that mysterious force which animates all of life. It flows with such gentleness. Such grace. And yet, such power.

And, in this moment, it’s all I sense in you. Because it’s being sensed with the exact awareness created by the same mysterious, all pervasive force.

But let’s not get anchored with concepts.

Please just know, down to your bones and beyond, you are loved.

Right now, regardless of how you feel or what you’ve been told, you are loved.

Unconditionally. Unequivocally. Unrelentingly.

Underneath all of your feelings, emotions, thoughts, reactions and judgments, you are loved like a mother loves her child. Like a poet loves his poems. Like sunbeams love flowers.

No questions, exceptions or expectations.

Please allow yourself to allow me this.

Although, I will love you anyway.

Every way.

Thank you,


WARNING: F-bomb Dropped Below

If you want to cover me in an avalanche of an anxiety, tell me the summer is ending before it actually is.

And like clockwork, my goddamn grandma has been spewing this rhetoric since mid June.

“Why isn’t my air conditioning working well? Did you touch the buttons?” she accusatorially asks.

“Maybe because all your windows are wide open and the entire sweltering universe is now in your apartment,” I say as innocently as I can.

“It’s probably broken. It doesn’t matter, the summer is almost over,” she relents.

My grandma is proof that those new-agey people are full of shit when they say that your life is a product of your thoughts. Because she’s the most negative person in the tri-state area and if that crap were true, she’d be toast a long time ago.

But she’s ninety-three and still going strong. With her cigarettes, garlic breath and guilt.

On the way to see her today, where I invariably had to explain why I’m a vegetarian for the billionth time, I saw kids on the side of the street selling lemonade.

I pulled over for a quickie down the hatch.

They weren’t charging anything but instead were accepting donations to help fight a horrible childhood disease that took two young kids in their family.

I gave them a couple of bucks and then to make them laugh I said, “Do you guys have any pizza to wash this lemonade down with?”

I really just don’t get how people choose to be negative. About anything. Ever.

And I’m not talking about being happy, because happy is hard when you have deep empathy for those who suffer. What I’m talking about is the incessant judgement, complaining and criticism which has become as commonplace in our culture as, I don’t know, cancer.

Perhaps that’s the link – bad vibes and cancer. But not individual bad vibes per se, but collective ones. And these bad vibes collect into invisible, condensed clouds and pass over each home like the biblical angel of death. And obviously, perhaps, some people are more vulnerable than others.

Which would explain why my grandma, who says stuff like, “It’s a sin to grow old,” has enough energy to fight in the UFC while those little redheads at the lemonade stand had to go to their cousin’s funerals.

Who knows if there’s a link or not, right?

All I know, for sure, is that the constant barrage of bad vibes isn’t helping anyone.

And there are plenty who need help.

So, if you’re lucky enough not to be one of those poor souls who need help, please, for the common good, shut the fuck up already with your negativity.

“Am I bugging you? I don’t mean to bug you, but I’m bugged.” – Bono

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

12/11/12 3:15am

The universe swallowed him a year ago.
It swallowed me too.
But I still have my breath.
And my hope.


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