Once in a while, if I'm very lucky, I'll come across a book that totally alters my perspective. And before you ask, yes, I read all the time and yes, there are plenty of authors I flat-out adore, but it's rare when the written word has the power to change the way I think or behave.
When I read Ayn Rand's magnum opus Atlas Shrugged, it forever altered the way I looked at the relationship between industry and government. (Some of you may argue it turned me into a conservative, compassionless douchebag.) (Some of you might not be wrong, but we're not debating that right now.) When I read Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, I developed my own concept of Utopia and Catcher in the Rye brought out the foul-mouthed cynic I never knew lived inside me.
Of course, what I read doesn't have to be Classic Literature to cause a change or prompt action. I mean, Bridget Jones's Diary made me think maybe there was a market for stories about chicks just living regular lives so I started jotting down details about my own life for use later.
This brings me to my latest inspiration, Elizabeth Gilbert's beautifully written memoir Eat, Pray, Love.
To preface, let me be real clear that I'm not abandoning my life to live in an Ashram or to study under an Indonesian healer or to eat my way across Italy, although this facet of her journey is fairly tempting. I'm not about to embark on an around the world soul-search to discover my own connection to The Divine. Faith is hardly a topic for a blog post, but I will say this - I don't need a miracle or a stigmata to convince me of the presence of God in my life. I see evidence of Him every day in a million tiny ways in events as simple as watching my fat-assed German shepherd Loki try to walk backwards up the stairs because he's afraid of the cat on the landing. (Sure, some could argue it's not God highlighting the humor in what would otherwise be a mundane existence, and counterbalancing all that makes me angry, yet that's how I've chosen to interpret Him.)
I'm about to veer dangerously off-topic, aren't I?
Anyway, despite not having to go to Bali to find God (because He's obviously already waiting for me in line at Target in the form of the surly cashier's misspelled neck tattoo) that doesn't mean Eat, Pray, Love wasn't powerfully motivating.
As Gilbert moved from country to country seeking fulfillment in body, mind, and spirit, she began to notice the huge cultural differences between Americans and everyone else. She pointed out how Americans have a terrible time relaxing. We're always moving and shaking, achieving, just going and going. And even when we're at rest, e.g. perched on the couch watching Rock of Love 2, we're still texting and talking on the phone and figuring out how many calories we need to burn to make up for the unfortunate incident with the banana cream pie and worrying about work and folding laundry and mentally repainting the kitchen because, really, what were we thinking with that shade of yellow?, and so on and so on. Even when we go on vacation, we can't seem to unhook, unwind, unplug.
Kind of sad, right?
One of Gilbert's goals in embarking on her journey was to find a way to rid herself of this trait. She sought the ability to let go and relax enough to quiet her mind in order to experience enlightenment. So, ten paragraphs later, I can finally make the point that Eat, Pray, Love inspired me to do the same thing.
That is, if you substitute "find enlightenment" for "not be so tightly wound I'm going to punch the next asshole I run into right in the throat."
And that's how I ended up wearing nothing but underpants in front of a perfect stranger.
TO BE CONTINUED
(Next up, Eat, Pray, Shove, Part Two, AKA an important reminder about why I never, ever get massages.)
