mettā:

“Shut the Door so I Can Leave…”

Every now and then a book enters into our lives and changes everything. It’s as if the universe knows what we need at that exact moment and the clouds begin to part ways, the wind becomes still and the book is handed to us right out of the sky (often already scribbled in with the best lessons dog-eared). 

I fell in love with books at an early age - what kid doesn’t love to read after all bu,t for me books were (and still are) my best friends. I often become emotionally invested with the characters so much that I have been known to pick up their habits (good and bad).

The woman that I believe I am today is part Scout Finch, Jo March, Leopold Bloom, Stephen Dedalus, Jude Fawley, Emma Woodhouse and characters that I haven’t even met yet. 

Today I read a passage in a book that took my breath away. I had to put the book down and look around to see if anyone was watching me and/or if I was being filmed for a science experiment. Then I read the paragraphs again and then again, until I was reciting what I just read in whispers to myself. 

I could not believe it. It struck me so much that I wanted to share it with everyone. I just couldn’t believe what was I reading. This book, mind you, is what I would consider “fluff” literature. I bought the book years ago while at the beach and never read it. Something made me pick it up though and once I did, I couldn’t put it down. 

I am going to share this passage from the book in lieu of a post today because if you have not read this book, you will learn from this passage. And this is not just for women fellas - this is just perfect.

To set the stage, the main character is the author herself, Elizabeth Gilbert. She is in India at an Ashram and talking to one of her fellow devotees. His name is Richard from Texas and her calls her “groceries.” She was upset because her morning meditation went badly and she was in a foul mood because a lot of old, bad thoughts surfaced. Hopefully the rest makes sense and you fall in love with her as I did in these paragraphs.

“What’s got you all wadded up?” he drawls, toothpick in mouth, as usual.

“Don’t ask,” I say, but then I start talking and tell him every bit of it, concluding with, “And worst of all, I can’t stop obsessing over David. I thought I was over him, but it’s all coming up again.”

 He says, “Give it another six months, you’ll feel better.”

 “I’ve already given it twelve months, Richard.”

 “Then give it six more. Just keep throwin’ six months at it till it goes away. Stuff like this takes time.”

 I exhale hotly through my nose, bull-like.

 “Groceries,” Richard says, “listen to me. Someday you’re gonna look back on this moment

of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You’ll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing and you were in the best possible place in the world for it — in a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace. Take this time, every minute of it. Let things work themselves out here in India.”

“But I really loved him.”

“Big deal. So you fell in love with someone. Don’t you see what happened? This guy touched a place in your heart deeper than you thought you were capable of reaching, I mean you got zapped, kiddo. But that love you felt, that’s just the beginning. You just got a taste of love. That’s just limited little rinky-dink mortal love. Wait till you see how much more deeply you can love than that. Heck, Groceries — you have the capacity to someday love the whole world. It’s your destiny. Don’t laugh.”

 “I’m not laughing.” I was actually crying. “And please don’t laugh at me now, but I think the reason it’s so hard for me to get over this guy is because I seriously believed David was my soul mate.”

 “He probably was. Your problem is you don’t understand what that word means. People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go. It’s over, Groceries. David’s purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of that marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it. That was his job, and he did great, but now it’s over. Problem is, you can’t accept that this relationship had a real short shelf life. You’re like a dog at the dump, baby — you’re just lickin’ at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. And if you’re not careful, that can’s gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. So drop it.” 

“But I love him.”

“So love him.”

“But I miss him.” 

“So miss him. Send him some love and light every time you think about him, and then drop it. You’re just afraid to let go of the last bits of David because then you’ll really be alone, and Liz Gilbert is scared to death of what will happen if she’s really alone. But here’s what you gotta understand, Groceries. If you clear out all that space in your mind that you’re using right now to obsess about this guy, you’ll have a vacuum there, an open spot — a door-way. And guess what the universe will do with that doorway? It will rush in — God will rush in — and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. So stop using David to block that door. Let it go.”

“But I wish me and David could — “

 He cuts me off. “See, now that’s your problem. You’re wishin’ too much, baby. You gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone oughtta be.”

 This line gives me the first laugh of the day.

Then I ask Richard, “So how long will it be before all this grieving passes?”

“You want an exact date?”

“Yes.” 

“Somethin’ you can circle on your calendar?”

“Yes.”

“Lemme tell you something, Groceries — you got some serious control issues.” 

My rage at this statement consumes me like fire. Control issues? ME? I actually consider slapping Richard for this insult. And then, from right down inside the intensity of my offended outrage comes the truth. The immediate, obvious, laughable truth.

He’s totally right.

The fire passes out of me, fast as it came.

“You’re totally right,” I say.

“I know I’m right, baby. Listen, you’re a powerful woman and you’re used to getting what you want out of life, and you didn’t get what you wanted in your last few relationships and it’s got you all jammed up. Your husband didn’t behave the way you wanted him to and David didn’t either. Life didn’t go your way for once. And nothing pisses off a control freak more than life not goin’ her way.”

“Don’t call me a control freak, please.”

“You have got control issues, Groceries. Come on. Nobody ever told you this before?”

(Well … yeah. But the thing about divorcing someone is that you kind of stop listening to all the mean stuff they say about you after a while.)

So I buck up and admit it. “OK, I think you’re probably right. Maybe I do have a problem with control. It’s just weird that you noticed. Because I don’t think it’s that obvious on the surface. I mean — I bet most people can’t see my control issues when they first look at me.”

 Richard from Texas laughs so hard he almost loses his toothpick.

 “They can’t? Honey — Ray Charles could see your control issues!”

 “OK, I think I’m done with this conversation now, thank you.”

 “You gotta learn how to let go, Groceries. Otherwise you’re gonna make yourself sick. Never gonna have a good night’s sleep again. You’ll just toss and turn forever, beatin’ onyourself for being such a fiasco in life. What’s wrong with me? How come I screw up all my relationships? Why am I such a failure? Lemme guess — that’s probably what you were up at all hours doin’ to yourself again last night.”

“All right, Richard, that’s enough,” I say. “I don’t want you walking around inside my head anymore.” 

“Shut the door, then,” says my big Texas Yogi. 

-Namaste

“Well I’ve Been Sued and Screwed and Tattooed. But I’m Standing Right Here in Front of You…”

It begins with a laugh. I laughed out loud at the Universe today, a deep belly laugh that left me wheezing and coughing for a few moments afterwards. It was the best laugh I have had since first being introduced to Arrested Development a few months ago, specifically Buster (and if you watch the show, you will understand this laugh). 

This laugh came out of nowhere amidst my recent heartbreak and disappointment, just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse and the threat of despair and loneliness began to sink in, I laughed. 

Not a crazy laugh, but a sane laugh, an “a-ha, I get it now” laugh that I believe was heard throughout Princeton, New Jersey this afternoon and I am very surprised that the local news networks did not report this - as it was epic. 

“I get it now, Universe.” I said to myself, “I fucking get it and it’s fucking fantastic!” (pardon my language, but sometimes the word fuck just makes the most sense). 

This was a test and I failed it. I failed miserably and I don’t usually fail tests - at least the ones that I am aware of any way. But, what happens when “we” (the collective we) fail at something? We LEARN from it, we learn and we take a mental note to not fail again. We are human after-all and failing, getting up and dusting ourselves off…only to try and fail again is what we do best! 

So why did I laugh? I am hurting, feeling hopeless and desperate, but I laughed in the middle of it all and realized the lesson I was learning was exactly what I needed. I needed a wake-up call. I was not succeeding by continuing my same patterns of behavior and the Universe wanted to wake me up. It was such a completely obvious lesson that I laughed. I laughed because I didn’t see it sooner. If I did, then maybe things would be different, but they are what they are and now acceptance and learning from the experience is all I can do.

I started to think about all of the “failures” in my life. Whenever I have felt helpless and lost - it wasn’t because I was being “punished,” I was simply being pointed in a new direction. Mind you, I know everyone hits a low point in their life and some low points can’t easily be summed up into the neat little package of a “life lesson,” but most can. We as humans, must understand this. 

I am sharing to help you learn from my example. I have failed at every single romantic relationship that I have ever had in my life (in my ENTIRE life) and was actually feeling sorry for myself for five minutes today. I then started to worry to myself, ” I cannot become an old cat lady, because I am severely allergic to cats…a tragedy all around.”

Then, the Universe’s plan was obvious to me in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. Every failure is a lesson and I can either choose to learn from them and change or I can simply continue to make the same poor choices over and over again and never achieve the happiness that I have been praying for (yes, I just ended that sentence with a preposition). 

So friends, my point is when you are feeling your lowest, when something awful has happened to you - stop for a minute, pick yourself up and think…..”what am I supposed to learn from this?” You are not a victim and you are not the only one who feels or has ever felt pain, loss, rejection, etc. - it’s how you react and change, grow and learn from the pain that makes you, fucking you. 

-Namaste

“Oh Please, Please, Please Let Me, Let Me, Let Me Get What I Want This Time…”

Perfectly pictured: The Duckman sitting outside against a well graffiti-ed wall and this Smith’s song framing the moment effortlessly. 

We have all been here.

We have all dropped to our knees once or twice in our lives and have asked Hashem, G*d, Allah, Buddha, and/or someone (anyone) to answer us and to take our pain away. 

However it is not that easy - pain doesn’t just go away. Tonight, as I dropped to my knees, I started to ask for relief. Afterall, I have had a tough year emotionally. However, I found myself thanking “G*d instead.” I started saying how grateful I was for everything that I have been given.

I have so many gifts when there are so many with so much less. It’s easy to become self absorbed and consumed by our own misery that we forget the good things in our lives. I am thankful for my children, my family, my friends, my job, my sense of humor, my story, myself, etc….

Now here is where my post is going to become very unpopular…and with a quickness.

As I was in tears asking G*d why I cannot find love and why I am alone, I made a game-changing discovery. I, and all of us, invite this “misery” into our lives. We honestly do. I was sitting on my sofa drinking a third glass of wine, feeling retched and like I wanted to give up on everything. Yes, I wanted to curl up into a ball and completely detach from the world - but, then it hit me. If I do that…I lose.

No one is going to care about Jes Carney, but Jes Carney. No one is going to know what I know, laugh at what I laugh at, cry at cotton commercials, try and stand on their head every day for 5 minutes in their office with the door closed at 11:45 am and no one is going to be me. 

So tonight, as I sit and feel sorry for me….I realize, I am making my own reality. My own happiness lies within me - not others. I may be alone for the rest of my life, but if am happy with who I am…it will be a very pleasurable existence. So, it’s time to like hanging out with Jes Carney (and yes, acknowledging yourself in the third person is part of it).

-Namaste 

“Take These Broken Wings…”

I have recently started a new job that has purpose and meaning. No, I am not a teacher, nurse, doctor, minister, activist, or a stay-at-home mom, but I am as close to having a job with meaning that a digital marketing person could have. I work at the largest philanthropic organization dedicated to healthcare in this country (we are the reason why cigarettes are $9 a pack or something along those lines). I think this is pretty cool!

 We did a team building exercise the other day in which 20 of us on the central communications team where asked to bring in an object that was meaningful to us. An easy assignment you may think, and some people did bring in the obvious picture of their kids, but a few took it a step further and told wonderful tales of hope and courage.  Mind you, I am already in awe of the advanced ivy league degrees and equally impressive work experience of my colleagues around the table, but now I am moved by these individuals on a personal level.

One woman brought in her passport and explained why it meant so much to her. She was going to bring in the novels she has written, but instead brought in something that signifies her as a legal citizen of this country. She grew up in Guatemala during a time of war and unrest. She watched the struggles that her father faced as a Psychiatrist dealing with issues of mental health and often persecuted for his beliefs. Being an American, being free and now being a part of the foundation meant everything to her.

Then another man went and told a touching story of his sister. The photo he had was black and white and torn at the edges and he held it in both hands and held it up high for us all to see. “This woman,” he started, “taught me to laugh and made me realize how much I admire smart, witty women. She was my best friend,” he continued, “and I looked up to her.” The story was about a life taken too soon when she was only 23 and how her death taught him about loss, the most important lesson he has learned to date.

Then it was my turn.

I was already feeling emotional from the two tales before me so I paused, placed my left hand over my heart and inhaled deeply. My exhale was long and cut through the silence of the room where all eyes were upon on me.

“I am a practicing minimalist and Zen Buddhist,” I began with a shaky voice and tired heart. I could feel the tears filling the lower corners of my eyes and the back of my throat began to tighten. I went on.

“I do not believe in objects holding meaning. I am completely detached from all material things” (which isn’t 100% true because I have two pairs of Frye boots that I LOVE, but shhhh.)

I removed my sweater and rolled up my sleeve then blurted out nervously, “but, my tattoo is meaningful and is what I want to share today.” At that point, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and they slowly and warmly began to trickle down my pale, freckled cheeks. I wiped them away quickly, as if I was scolding them for interrupting my story. “You are not a part of this story tears,” I said as a few in the room quietly giggled. “I got this tattoo,” I went on to say, “after my children and I had a life changing experience last summer. I turned to Buddhism, specifically Zen Buddhism and it saved my life.” At that point, I couldn’t breathe and the tears came faster than I could wipe away.

My wonderful and talented boss saw me struggling and helped me along, “what does it say she asked.” It snapped me out of my memories and into the present.

“Move, and the way will open.” I replied. I had it tattooed on my forearm because I wanted to be reminded of how strong my children and I are every day. I wanted to remember that life is unpredictable, about change and how one reacts to change.” I took another deep breathe and my turn was over just as quickly as it began and there were 16 other people with incredible journeys of their own to share. I laughed out loud at some and cried at others, but they all made me realize and understand just how delicate and beautiful life really is.

There is someone in my life that I love very much. This person is deeply hurting and needs to “MOVE” and allow the universe to take over for him. But, instead he chooses to remain stuck in the past, stuck in the misery of his current situation and stuck in between his anger, remorse, sadness and all of the other symptoms that being stuck causes.

This man is letting his experience dictate his story rather than allowing his response to the experience tell it for him. We’ve all suffered from heartbreak, loss, fear, stress and feelings of being overwhelmed by life, but our best stories come from how we respond or “survive” these experiences and they make us who we are.

I often say this to myself and my friends, but the first step in taking control of any situation that is not serving us nor doing us good at the time, is ACCEPTANCE of the situation.

I met a nine year old boy (he’s probably 10 now) who is, or at the time I met him, dying of Leukemia. He told me that he was “okay with being sick.” He said, “being sick doesn’t stop him from playing video games with his brothers or battling his friends in a Bey Blade Tournament.” He has accepted his illness and instead of lying in a bed, being sick, and allowing his sickness to dictate his life - he accepts his sickness for what it is and chooses not to allow it to take away what happiness he may have left.

We can either chose to feel sorry for ourselves or we can choose to live the best life that we can live - even with the struggles and circumstances that life often brings.

There is nothing wrong with feeling sad, and allowing sadness into your heart every now and then, but when you hold onto this sadness and choose to allow it to tell your story, then sad is what your story will be.

Namaste