Eat, Pray, Love, Journal.
I’m deep into the book many of you have read already, Eat Pray Love, the bestselling personal memoir by Elizabeth Gilbert (Penguin). The book, a triptych about a spiritual journey, charts the author’s exploration of three different aspects of her nature: pleasure in Italy, devotion in India, and earthly and spiritual balance in Indonesia. Where I am in the book, Elizabeth has put her old life on hold for a year to travel, and to put some distance between her and a messy divorce, fresh heartbreak and depression. She has been in Rome for a few weeks, and the enchantment of being in the swirl and romance of Rome is wearing off a bit. Old worries come to haunt, and at a point of crisis, she writes:
“… I reach for my most private notebook, which I keep next to my bed in case I’m ever in emergency trouble. I open it up. I find the first blank page. I write:
“I need your help.”
Then I wait. After a little while, a response comes, in my own handwriting:
“I’m right here. What can I do for you?”
She continues,
“Even during the worst of suffering, that calm, compassionate, affectionate and infinitely wise voice (who is maybe me, or not exactly me) is always available for a conversation on paper at any time of day or night.”
Pick up the book if you haven’t already, it’s a delight! penguin.com or elizabethgilbert.com
Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (0)Dancing with Myself.
Years ago in ballroom dance lessons, my instructor said that partner dancing done well is actually two deftly linked solo acts. “Memorize your part independently; without your partner,” he explained. So, next, he got me to practice a rhumba box step, solo. Trust me, it didn’t look anything like that semi-hot scene in Dirty Dancing where Johnny Castle tells Baby to close her eyes and “feel the heartbeat: Ga-gung. Ga-gung.” Nope. For me, it was incredibly dorky, counting out “and-one, two, three, four-and…” in my head and pacing backwards and forwards in a mirror. But, in time, it became second nature. I would even sneak in a practice step or two when I caught my reflection odd places — windows, shiny elevator doors.
Years later, I began a yoga practice. Yet again, linking physical energy with mental energy took me inward, to an even more specific focus located between my closed eyes just above my nose, what yogini call the “third eye.” I came to recognize it as familiar and friendly, a centering spot to occupy during the meditative moments of practice.
“Going inside” is perhaps what scares people away from journaling honestly and with spontaneity. You wonder, “What if someone reads my journal and realizes what a messy emotional state I’m in.” That’s what makes journals (and sketchbooks) so important to the creative process, or in tapping inner strengths to work yourself out of a corner. It’s a special free space that even the best-intentioned friends and coworkers can’t give you. It’s your mirror, your place to work out the steps, to vent if you’ve gotta, to noodle and dream.
Ready to see and hear what’s in your own head? Find a journal you can actually write in, one that’s not so precious you can’t violate it with a pen. The journal I am carrying now: the Canvas Beach Book. Check them out at Paperposey.com/Beach Books