I started reading “Eat Pray Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert yesterday. I bought the book a week ago, more or less, and was saving it like those filled-with-something-delicious round chocolates I love so much; I just didn’t want to start reading it yet because I was afraid it would melt inside my mouth too soon, you know, like the chocolate.
Before moving further, it’s worth mentioning that I have seen the movie three times now and I still don’t get tired of it, not even a single moment of the movie makes me think “Oh, how boring, can I skip that part, please?” Nope. I enjoy every single line and frame from that damn film. An explanation of why I adore the movie so much would take quite some space so… let’s just say that it spoke (and still speaks) to me on so many levels that I think I’m in love with it. No, wait, I know I’m in love with it. It touched my soul, my heart, my mind. Sometimes it didn’t touch all those things but actually smacked them, kicked them in the ass and otherwise shook them really really hard. More than that, I feel like home when I watch it; a sense of peacefulness and belonging has woken up inside of me each and every time I have seen it. And no, I’m not exaggerating. So when I found out there was a book, it became obvious I had to read it.
Anyway, back to the book... Reading it has made me love the movie more than I already do. I was surprised to find out how different they are, yet how they share the same essence, the same spirit, which is exactly how I feel about Elizabeth and me. The author and I are so different in so many ways but so similar it’s unnerving. I’m on page 93 of the novel and I can already say that about us. She is like a mirror to me. Her words speak of a truth and a yearning that makes so much sense to me it’s no wonder I can’t get enough of the movie.
The message (or multiple messages) that has arrived in the form of Gilbert’s words directly into my life is full of what Jung would call synchronicity. It didn’t get here too soon or too late but precisely when I would understand and apprehend it. Because the last four months of my life have been quite a ride. A soul-shaking, heart-breaking, mind-blowing, life-changing ride. I reached the peak of that ride in an ecstatic state, scared as hell but willing, and like every ride, there came the huge and lightning fast drop into the abyss that stripped me of everything in a second. I could go on comparing my experience during this time with that freaking amusement park hell of a ride but I think you get the point: after that first horrible drop, sometimes I was up again only to go down and up and down, faster and faster, wishing it would end already, until I ended up at the bottom, shaken and unable to stand up straight. My stomach – along with my lungs and heart – abandoned somewhere along the road. I wish I could say it’s over but, to this very day, I’m still trying to get off the cart. I also wish I could say it hasn’t really been that bad but I would be lying. Don’t get me wrong, I have learned invaluable lessons that will eventually make it all worthwhile but, holy shit, I wouldn’t want to go through the experience again. No, sir.
I have the make a pause here to write this message for someone in particular cause it’s bugging me too much. So here it is: There are so many things I would like to say about you in this post but you might actually read this (although it is highly unlikely) and I’m not sure I want you to know how I feel. I’m not even sure why I don’t want you to know. I have become a pro in hiding my feelings from you. It’s ridiculous. I have been drowning in an ocean of my own tears and unbearable anxiety for a long time now, hiding that monster behind a fake smile and a sweet voice, with my everything-is-alright attitude. Which I’m not very good at, by the way. Like I said, it’s ridiculous. Letting you know how I feel isn’t going to drive you away cause I already lost you. You’re already gone. But I still don’t feel ready to break the wall of silence I have built around my feelings whenever you’re around. Maybe I will someday. Maybe you will never know. Or maybe I will write you a letter. Ha, ha. (I doubt you remember the context which would make that last statement kind of funny).
But I digress. The title of this post I got from the book. “From the center of my life, there came a great fountain…” It’s hard for me to feel it lately but I know it is there. I can feel things changing subtly inside of me, rearranging themselves in a form I can’t make sense off yet but I will when it is ready to reveal itself to me.
That’s it. The inspiration is gone and I need to go write someone a letter…
