Prompt #12

I wish I could say what I am. Perhaps it is the fear of failure or the fear of the doubt that has strapped me down all these years. Maybe it is in each relationship that has failed or excelled that is pushing me away from the fears and doubts that I am so afraid of. Or maybe, just maybe, it is in myself in which I cannot find the power to overcome. But myself is no longer filled with doubts and fears. I have passed the phase of complete ignorance to my brilliance. Now, I am just full of wishes.

I wish I could untangle myself. I wish I could love myself to let others love me back deeper than the initial love itself. I wish I could write, and paint, and draw, and create the way I would like to. I wish I could be the best and dream the best, and see the best, and find the best, gain the best, and live the best. I wish I were better than you. I wish I could see the presence within myself. I wish my wishes would stop and I could learn to be me, without wishing for it to come true. 

So I will stop the vicious cycle of wishing. I will show through my talents that I can become all those wishes--one by one, I will concur. One day at a time, I will steel my wish from my mind and dissect it until I can believe that I am the greatest I can be. To you, I may seem less or better, or worse, or great, or dumb and ugly or big or tall, smart and nice and funny and present. Or I may just be who I am. A bucket of wishes dying to come true, a soul of the plentiful, waiting to escape from expectation. I am the own rescuer to my so-called desires. I am the full responsibility of my own being and I can only create myself in a way I wish to see myself. 

Prompt #11

Behavioral Samskaras: 

1) Absorbing stress very easily (-)

2) Listen to music..every moment I can (+)

3) Letting "things" go (+) 

4) Approaching my art work with a pre-determined negative view. (-)

5) Wearing my prayer bracelet, through everything I do.  

6) Not being able to sleep if my room is a mess. (neither) 

7) Falling asleep to Norah Jones (+)

8) Driving through park on the way to Lydia or Emma. (+) 

9) The NEED for Starbucks in the AM (-)

10) Forgetting to relax (-) 

11) Coloring and watching Friends (+) 

Thought Samskaras: 

1) Not getting into college (-) (-) (-)

2) I should be ______ and ______ (-) 

          (blanks change  constantly)

 3) I cannot wait for Winter (-)

 4) I will never be ready to leave home (-)

 5) Why cant I be a better artist? (-)

 6) It's all going to work out in the end (+) 

Prompt #9

 

India vs. Indonesia : The differences 

In India, Elizabeth Gilbert has hope. Excluding the frustration during some meditation practices, her inspiration to become a happier person is still apparent. Her tone continues to be a positive one while she begins to accept the matter of her upset, however, still inhales a negative conduct. Let me explain: Elizabeth Gilbert has had this mentality throughout the novel. Her awakened and acknowledged state of mind clashes with her hopeful and passionate aspiration to heal. A step of this process was accepting the relationships with her two men back in the United States. Gilbert writes " I invited my ex-husband to please join me on this rooftop in India. I asked him if her would be kind enough to meet me up here for this farewell event. Then I waited until I felt him arrive. And he did arrive...."(186)

This clash is presented in each chapter, and as a mater of fact, each page. But as we enter Indonesia, this tone shifts. The two sides of the clash begin to work together for the better. Each aspect becomes balance and the awareness of heeling is embraced. Elizabeth Gilbert learns more about her self if these 116 pages than she does in both Italy and India. She uses her spirit and her gifts to learn that helping others is just as important as helping herself. Through the medicine man, she learns the act of healing. She has found a balance that blows through the words on the pages. Her passions become stronger and her happiness flies through the roof. This is the result of her spiritual awakening. Her tone from the beginning of the novel to the end has changed greatly. She has learned who she is and what she is meant to become in life, she has embraced the misfortunes of her relationships and learned to let go, and lastly, she has learned that she is her own leader, and in order to change, she must find it within her self. Elizabeth Gilbert was in a liminal state while in India. She was between an awakening and a healing process. The result would be Indonesia and what she could do with her new being, but she had to get through the four months of frustration and devotion in India to get that pot of gold.

Prompt #9

This all brings me back to the focus of yoga. What is yoga? Why is yoga? Where is yoga? Who is yoga? And so on and so fourth. And then I think about the pages I just read and what connects this idea of internal stability to the words of Ketut Liyer. With out thinking to deeply, I notice a universal center connected by Elizabeth Gilbert and The Medicine Man, which in my opinion, is absolutely brilliant. The center is of this: Take each element in your body, each chakrah, the head, the face, the throat, the chest (or heart), the navel, the lower abdomen, and the spine, then connect it to what Elizabeth Gilbert received two years ago on her yoga tour, this idea of combining each element into one, to become one, to love one and to believe in one: "So I describe the picture [Ketut Liyer] made for me, the figure with the four legs ("so grounded on earth") and the missing head ("not looking at the world through intellect") and the face in the heart ("looking at the world through the heart")." (Gilbert 222) The picture describes full awareness of thought and full awareness of placement in the world, to have your feet planted, your mind slightly astray and your heart fully present. And in my ammeter experiences of yoga, I believe these are the hopes. The goal is to gain all of these.. lets call them "powers." The power to get your fleet solid on the ground, so strong it seems you have four legs and four feet, four foundations. (This explains the positions of yoga and the strength needed to gather utter most balance.) Next, the power to shift your mind away from the clock, away from the people around you and away from your troubles and worries. To gain a full yoga experience, one must learn to control their mind and their thoughts and to block out the negative and embrace the positive. The next power is to learn the control of your heart. I will not lie, this is a difficult task, so difficult it seems almost impossible. However, the goal here is to look at the world with the heart, not the mind. That is pretty self explanatory because it will be so completely and almost stupidly different for each soul on this planet that explaining it will just be too difficult. But lets answer the first questions. What is Yoga? Why is yoga? Where is yoga? Who is yoga? And so on and so fourth. I think the painting made by the oh so glorious Medicine Man given to the used to be oh so miserable Elizabeth Gilber pretty much sums it up as a "let me be one within myself as a powerful soul and let me embrace the remarks of my mind and contrast with the remarks of my heart" concept, don't you?





                                       See you later, alligator.

Prompt #8

This is what I have learned: Everybody has the power to control their own mind and thoughts. Not only from Richard's mouth did I learn this, but from my inborn sense that because I say something is going to be okay, it will be. However, this is not the truth. And in fact, this is rarely ever the truth, but I will pretend to primely trick my self until I embrace it, smother it and love it and then it really becomes the dead on truth. Those are the three steps to utter internal peace and control. I believe that the first step in healing is to internally prove to your self that healing is even in your future, either near or far. You must embrace how you feel and how your thoughts create damage before can gather central control of both actions and intuitions. The second is to train your mind, train it to smother your current train of thoughts until they can no longer breath..then let them go and regain your strength. The third is to love them, the new thoughts that is. Love the fact that you can shift from absence of control to mind cultivation with a single awareness and a single focus. Selecting thoughts is a gift that is only gained in time. I have not yet mastered it, nor have I even begun the process of embracing it, however, the single fact that I can even write seems I am heading in the right direction. It must be done with focus and control, and if you cannot become proficient in your thoughts, you will be in constant nuisance forever. 

Prompt #7

I am sitting here in a lamp lit room, with too much caffein and way too much on my mind, thinking about a time when all I could physically and mentally do is think about something else, a time where I could not stand still and focus on something needed, and a time where my body was in one place, and my thoughts another. I am trying to remember when that time was and how I can write it in a manner I feel is most appropriate, a manner I feel is the most beautifully presented. And as I write and delete and write and delete and write and delete and delete more and more and continue, I realize that that moment is right now. I am trying to figure out what color I want my bed sheets to be in my New York University freshman dorm room, rather than my English assignment due tomorrow. But why? Why must I think about my imaginary color scheme in a college to still be determined? Why am I so obsessed with this vision on the future that I cannot sit still and write my blog about not being comfortable? Why, please tell me why, I cannot at this moment be where I am with 100 percent consideration and understanding? And then I think: "Well I love purple, and I love green, and together? Nah. Too much. What if my roommate thinks I am a barney loving freak? HA HA HA that would be hilarious, and sadly depressing. Moving on. English Homework." I am sitting here driving my self crazy, now thinking way too hard about something that should be as simple as the alphabet (which now that I think about, is not all that simple after all, since it creates the language I speak). I am noticing that thinking so deeply about these words I am typing is making it even harder to concentrate. How about this, I ask my self. How about you stop typing, think about where you are and what you are doing, and be here, be here where you really are, not at NYU or Pottery Barn, not in your futuristic life in a futuristic college with futuristic bed duvets. Then I come back to surface noticing my breaths and my objective of tonight, and that is to write about a time where I cannot be where I actually am.  And, well, you just read it. 

I am sitting here in a lamp lit room, with too much caffein and way too much on my mind, thinking about a time when all I could physically and mentally do is think about something else, a time where I could not stand still and focus on something needed, and a time where my body was in one place, and my thoughts another. I am trying to remember when that time was and how I can write it in a manner I feel is most appropriate, a manner I feel is the most beautifully presented. And as I write and delete and write and delete and write and delete and delete more and more and continue, I realize that that moment is right now. I am trying to figure out what color I want my bed sheets to be in my New York University freshman dorm room, rather than my English assignment due tomorrow. But why? Why must I think about my imaginary color scheme in a college to still be determined? Why am I so obsessed with this vision on the future that I cannot sit still and write my blog about not being comfortable? Why, please tell me why, I cannot at this moment be where I am with 100 percent consideration and understanding? And then I think: "Well I love purple, and I love green, and together? Nah. Too much. What if my roommate thinks I am a barney loving freak? HA HA HA that would be hilarious, and sadly depressing. Moving on. English Homework." I am sitting here driving my self crazy, now thinking way too hard about something that should be as simple as the alphabet (which now that I think about, is not all that simple after all, since it creates the language I speak). I am noticing that thinking so deeply about these words I am typing is making it even harder to concentrate. How about this, I ask my self. How about you stop typing, think about where you are and what you are doing, and be here, be here where you really are, not at NYU or Pottery Barn, not in your futuristic life in a futuristic college with futuristic bed duvets. Then I come back to surface noticing my breaths and my objective of tonight, and that is to write about a time where I cannot be where I actually am.  And, well, you just read it. 

Prompt #6

Soul mates are a funny thing, especially when you pick apart the word into two and picture in your mind what they would mean, or do for that mater. But, excusing my indiosicrocy of dissecting words into pieces, I would like to share with you this. I believe, in my immature yet innate sense, that ONE soul mate does not exist. Perhaps there are people on this earth (As Richard from Texas explains) that enter our lives, show us what we're missing, smack our doubts away, kill our insecurities, and then leave us alone to fight our own battles. But I think is is even simpler. Maybe our soul mates are the people we live for, like our children or loved ones. Maybe our soul mates are those who teach us how to grow and teach us how to live. Maybe they are un-announced and unrecognized, like the man who made your latte this morning, or the person who held the door, the woman that called you sweetie, the child that smiled in response to yours. Or maybe, just maybe, they are a romantic partner, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, wife, husband, first kiss, first love, first what ever else. Maybe, we are our own soul mates who can mirror our own weaknesses and force ourselves to act upon a healing melody. Richard mentions that a soul mate acts as a mirror to show everything that is holding one back from experiencing something special. In Elizabeth Gilbert's case, her soul mate was David, who was only in her life to teach her to go live her life, not stay back and wait for results. David was present to force Elizabeth Gilbert out of her marriage and onto a plane of self discovery, both literally, and figuratively speaking. Personally, I believe that everything happens for a reason. People fly in and out of my life like an array of sparrows, some with a negative agenda and some with real and pure intention and let me tell you something, some of those sparrows can be real tough to deal with. However, I think that each person that has flown into my life for what ever reason has had a purpose to teach me something new, to make me hunt for change or inspiration and unlock the door to the walls that hold me back in whatever I may believe in. But as I think deeper and deeper into the definition of a soul mate, I come to realize that there is no single one interpretation. I believe that there are several soul mates for several occasions and several beings. Each soul is different, but we all know that and each soul is pure, and again we all know that, but does any one soul match, or mate, with another?

Honors Prompt #3

Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing methods are like breath of fresh air. They are like a comic relief of the so-called trauma each individual is destined to go through. They are like hammers and drills and wrenches, screwdrivers and scrapers and staple guns, and nuts and bolts and measuring tapes, saws, and pliers and pipes and powered polishers.  They are like a family of personalities and a family of brilliant scholars and doctors and lawyers and chefs. And like a pallet of watercolors painting each page with a new soul and a new characteristic, a new dream and a new message, and a new (and improved) story to tell. Figuratively speaking, each appliance or family member or watercolor or soul is a tool: “aka” a writing technique that supposedly is used to make things more interesting  (perhaps, without great intention, less) for purposes of not completely boring the reader to death. However when a good writer uses these tools or methods correctly, like Elizabeth Gilbert does, a story is transformed from being written, to being told. Let me explain further. Excusing the obvious uses of personification and similes and the in body conversations, (which, just for your information, are used so beautifully by Elizabeth Gilbert, I want to cry) the one tool that seems now in retrospect, a completely and unbelievably underrated and simple concept is this: Casualty. With the goal to speak to her readers, Gilbert has used this idea of casualty to portray her messages through her stories. The tone behind each word in this text gives the reader, in this case me, a genuine focus. Her focus is to single me out as an individual and speak to me as if she and I are sitting in coffee shop like two old friends, telling her story with intense emotion and intense intention to poke the hell out of me until I find in my self something to relate too. Some relatable spark that will then force me to not only sympathize to Gilbert but to myself and my own broken alter ego and conscience. I believe that this is the key to unlocking a reader’s attention. When a writer can make each chapter, each sentence, and each fragment and word relatable, a reader is naturally drawn to it. The honest truth is that we are rarely able to admit to our own vulnerabilities and insecurities; so reading about somebody else’s is just easier. That is why this novel is a best seller. It is that simple. We want to read about other people’s struggles to vicariously through the text, re assure our own. People read this because Gilbert is not talking to her readers; she is talking to each one of us, individually. So I will steel this. I am going to steal the technique of casualty and call it my own. Well because, that’s how writers become writers, we steal. 

Prompt #5

Yoga is something special, something beautiful and challenging, artistically and emotionally exhausting, yet completely soothing. My experience today was all of the above. With pure awareness, I thought yoga was lets say, easy, and I didn't realize that it is in fact the opposite until I was upside down, my back in a triangle and my untied hair sweeping the sweat off my mat and inundating my breaths and vision. When we stepped into lunges from downward dog, I was already exhausted and defeated. My mind was questioning: "why the hell would anybody want to do this?" Then I said: " Why the hell would anybody want to do this?" But when we stepped into warrior, I answered my own question (in silence of course). People do yoga to not only do yoga, but to find inner stability and inspiration. I, at some point in this pose, felt complete meditation. (Mind you I was in a pelvic open, legs spread, arms up type of position) I stared at my middle fingernail and calmness surrounded my being, however after about 10 seconds, I asked myself again the same original question. My legs were burning and my mind was too. I found myself staring at the clock instead of at my fingers, and my so called "meditation" was lost. It was then announced to lay back into child's pose, and then my original question, the "why the hell would anybody want to do this?" question, was re-answered.."aww, thats why" I said to myself. We then returned to Savasana, and my answer was even further reinforced. My most meditative state was in this position. The act of "not thinking" was, at first, a challenge, but after doing in several times, it has become much easier. I do think (or hope) that it will be the same from yoga. And like everything great, it will take time. 

Honors Prompt #2

I had the strangest, yet most powerful experience today during meditation. I felt something so peculiar and to be honest, a bit creepy that sharing will be hard to do. I will try to explain: When I laid on my back with the blanket wrapped around my stomach, I was expecting to have my mind automatically flood with uncompleted tasks from the day and the day before that, and the day before that, but it didn't. The reasons why, I cannot explain without sounding like a insane being, but again, I will try. My thoughts heading into the meditation seemed altered than the days previous to today. I laid down with complete intention to meditate, relax, and spiritually unroll, and that my friends, is exactly what happened. I have no recollection of time or judgment, but at some point during the meditation, my energy shifted. It shifted so far that I felt as if I were sleeping, but so aware all at the same time. Usually in sleep, I have no conception of my surroundings, I cannot hear things, nor can I even notice that I am sleeping. When I am awake, I am aware and for the most part, attentive and conscience of my own being. The state I acquired today, however, was a complete mix of the two. I knew I was meditating and knew where I was and what I was doing, but I fell so deep into my being and into my own soul, that it felt like I was sleeping. It was almost, sort of in a way, an outer body experience. Now, I was not floating, transparent in the sky looking upon my self in my 12th grade English class, but I felt so one with myself that I also felt so unconnected at the same moment. It was, lets say, one of the most bizarre and completely illogical, yet completely sensual and natural and spiritual, as well as a spine tingling, hair raising and eye opening moment. All in one, I cannot explain why, how, who, what, when or where, but it was all that, and more.

Honors Prompt #1

At this point in the novel, Elizabeth Gilbert has used many techniques to further explain her memories to her readers. Rather than just telling the story, Gilbert shows us the story and lets us feel it for ourselves. She does this by using and experimenting with a variety of styles and methods. The most obvious and apparent technique, to me, is personification. For example, "Depression and Loneliness track me down after about ten days in Italy...." (46, Gilbert). With great intention, Gilbert has transformed the feelings of depression and loneliness into human beings and in fact, as she relates to them, detectives. "Depression on my left, Loneliness on my right." (47, Gilbert) Gilbert's use of placement is one of the main hints that she personally relates the two to people, not feelings. Continuing with the idea of personification and giving objects, or in this case feelings, real characteristics is greatly recognized through out the chapter. The use of personification not only shows the reader how passionately these feelings have followed her across seas, but it demonstrates Gilbert's creative, personable, and amusing writing style. Moreover, I have come to realize that the use of personification in ones writing makes the reader, in this case me, feel so connected to the author. Let me explain further. Everybody, at one point in our hectic lives, has felt both feelings, but have we recognized them as our own? With carful consideration of capitalization (Depression and Loneliness), Gilbert has made me so conscious of both feelings, as if they are so real, and feel so present like human beings do. She continues in this rather short chapter with a complete use of personification. It is as if she gives each feeling a soul, a purpose, a mind, characteristics, etc. And in fact, she does, yet more indirectly:

"I say to them, 'How did you find me here? Who told you I had come to rome?'

'Depression, always the wise guy, says 'What--you're not happy to see us?' 

'Go away,' I tell him.' 

'Loneliness, the more sensitive cop, says, 'I'm sorry ma'am. But I might have to tail you the whole time you're traveling. It's my assignment.'

'I'd really rather you didn't,' I tell him, and he shrugs almost apologetically, but only moves closer" 

In this short conversation between the three, the emotions behind the emotions that Gilbert feels, or felt, are vicariously shown through the rather clever dialect of both characters. Her true relationship with Depression (I will capitalize as I wish), is apparent with his arrogant and, for lack of a better word, wise-ass response. That being said, her relationship with Loneliness, is a little bit more endearing. This is better proclaimed in the last sentence of the chapter. "Loneliness watches and sighs, then climbs into my bed and pulls the covers over himself, fully dressed, shoes and all. He's going to make me sleep with him again tonight, I just know it." (48, Gilbert) The tone in these few sentences is an apparent shift in emotion. Gilbert's thoughts seems more genuine, or even yet another sign of internal vulnerability. Without directly stating her response to the presence of both Depression and Loneliness, Gilbert uses personification, as well as dialect, to illustrate her rather ambivalent feelings toward both personalities. 

Another evident strategy to further enforce the author’s message is the use of metaphors and similes. Gilbert does not use these methods a whole lot in this chapter, but she definitely includes a few here and there to support her intentions. "{Loneliness and Depression} come upon me all silent and menacing like Pinkerton Detectives" (46, Gilbert) The purpose of this comparison is to go even deeper in the personification of the two emotions. The constant reference to this same idea of personification only strengthens the method and paints the image of both Depression and Loneliness as two individual human beings, and nothing less.

In the middle of the chapter, Gilbert begins to explain specific examples of the questions she is interrogated with. "He asks is I have any reason to be happy that I know of. He asks why I am all by myself tonight, yet again. He asks (though we've been through this line of questioning hundreds of times already) why I can't keep a relationship going, why I ruined my marriage, why I messed things up with David, why I messed things up with every man I've ever been with....." (47, Gilbert) This part of the chapter, I believe, is the most revealing. Let me break it down. This novel is about self discovery, and every single person who jumps into it, even with no previous knowledge, can grasp that concept by simply reading the cursive at the bottom on the front cover. However, up until now, all we as readers have read, is nothing about Gilbert finding herself, and truth be told, it still isn't. But not until now have we even seen traces sincere acknowledgment of the real purpose Elizabeth Gilbert is even in Italy. Figuratively speaking, we all want the personification of both Depression and Loneliness to jump out of the page and into our hearts and our minds and even our souls, soak up out doubts, smoke the cigars of self-discovery, mold to our own personalities and aspirations and ask us the same damn questions Elizabeth Gilbert was asked that night, on the stroll back to her roman home, well because, we cant seem to admit it our selves. Gilbert is just one in the same. Honest with herself, she knows that admitting her downfalls is the first step to her spiritual, and therefore, literal recovery, and this method of forcing out her own realizations into somebody else's mouth, is what her true and sincere objective is, or was. The personification of her two most pronounced emotions on that very day has given the reader, me, a more vulnerable and honest, yet completely indirect, image of her own self, and in writing it, has given her the same. This chapter defines Gilbert's purpose. Let me repeat that. This chapter defines Gilbert's purpose. 

Side Note: When I read this, my mind stood up and slapped herself in the face. Why? Well because, it is really simple. The feelings are so relevant and apparent, maybe not to the extremes or for the same reasons, but oh, they are there. Trust me. I must admit my vulnerability in reading this novel and acknowledge it too, and I am, I think. My mind has sat back down and is now icing her cheek bones and busted lip, but she deserved a little slap, just to wake up and realize that maybe, I even need two emotional personalities to tell me what the hell I am destined to do next, don't you?

Prompt #4

I covered my window with a sheet tonight to prevent distraction while I try to sow my mind shut with threads and threads of closing thoughts and prayers. My mind is a like a bingo-ball-roller. She spins and spins until something comes out. Then she matches it to something else, then that thought is over. Then she spins again and again until something else comes out. Then she matches is to something else, then the thought is over again, and the cycle continues. She does this every night. It is probably because my mind likes to trick and manipulate me, and slap me in the face and poke my brains until I can become content with all my thoughts. I am well aware of her best intentions, however, her ways of approaching them need a little, for lack of a better word, coaching. What she doesn't realize is that complete happiness will take time, and will not be healed in a night, but she doesn't care, well because, my mind, she's actually quite the bitch. That being said, my nights, they usually go a little something like this:

Me: (inhale..exhale) Let's go to bed. Is that alright? 

Mind: Oh, yes. Absolutely. It has been a long day. 

Me: You can say that again. 

Mind: It has been a long day. 

Me: No, not literally, I was agreeing with you. Lets just sleep, please?

Mind: Oh yes, I forgot. Sorry. 

Me: Finally. 

(Just a few moments of silence) 

Mind: I wonder where dad is right now. Ya think he's doing alright? Maybe we should call. 

Me: "No Response" 

Mind: Sorry, Sorry, lets go to bed. 

Me: Yeah, he's alright, I think. Let's call tomorrow. I bet he is sleeping. 

Mind: No! Its pretty early, and if he is out of the county it is even earlier. 

Me: It depends on what country is it, it could be earlier, could be later. And is he? Out of the country that is. 

Mind: He didn't tell me. 

Me: He would have said something, obviously.

Mind: Yeah, you're probably right. Night. 

Me: Goodnight. 

Mind: I think you're right. You know about, what's that called?

Me: Timezones? 

Mind: Yes, those things. What time is it is Turkey? Is he there? He was there a few weeks ago, right?

Me: I dont remember, we will call tomorrow. Can we please, just focus on sleeping.

Mind: Yes. 

(Just a few moments of silence..and my thoughts fade) 

Mind: Did you ever call the car insurance people back? They have been riding us like a bull. "Do this, do that, call me then, call me now, send an email, send a claim, and blah blah blah." You think they would get the memo to shut the hell up already, huh?

Me: Oh, yeah. I need to call them tomorrow, remind me to call tomorrow. You promise? 

Mind: Promise. 

Me: Thanks. (Inhale.Exhale.Repeat) 

(Some more silence) 

Mind: Wouldn't it be scary if there was a strange man staring in your window right now? 

Me: Why would you even bring that up? 

Mind: I don't know what else to think about. 

Me: How about falling asleep. 

Mind: Oh yes, happy thoughts. 

Me: Now I am scared. 

Mind: Of what?

Me: Of what? Of a man, staring into my window, plotting ways to take me away and steel my identity and take all my belongings and kill my...

Mind: Stop! Stop! don't think about that! It would never happen. Are you crazy? 

Me: Are you? you brought it up, not me. 

Mind: Sorry, are you angry? I am just trying to help you sleep. 

Me: Just shut up, you are not helping. And you are right, it would never happen. 

(The last interrupted silence) 

Mind: You are sitting on your bed, with roses, and bunnies, and all the things you love. 

Me: okay. 

Mind: Now, am I helping? 

Me: sureeeeee. (slurred due to complete exhaustion) 

Mind: Yes, okay, goodnight. I will not speak again. I promise. Just one last thing, okay?

Me: Quickly. 

Mind: Everything is going to be alright, you hear me? Everything will work out. I can promise you that all your stress is going to fade as these months grow older. Each episode of upset will always end with something great. You hear me? You are the most wonderful person I know. I love you, Izz. 

Me: Love you too...

My last internal Prayer: Dear you, please let all of the people I love, be happy, healthy and safe. Please let all of my fathers flights take off, travel and land safely. Please let me, be me.

Prompt #3

I thought that I was already at a balanced and peaceful state until the moment I turned on my side and felt all my energy shift like empty barrels on the back of a pick up truck hitting a turn, a slight one in that, but still a turn. Each barrel slid over one by one as the turn progressed and hit each other, but softly, like it was in slow motion. Then they took a rest as the roll did. At one side of the truck was a pressured bundle of barrels. The other was empty, jealous of the concentration on the other side of the truck. Then the turn straightened out and half of the barrels, one by one, slid to the other side, creating a balance more powerful than one would think. I then stood up and reached gravity, each barrel of energy rested in a certain place in my body. Two in my legs, one at my abdomen, two at my heart, two in my arms, one in my throat and one in my head. Each barrel resting quietly, balanced and content in their positions. A complete representation of my insides out, well at the moment at least.

Prompt #2

Jumping into the book, I thought it was going to be horrible. These were not my own opinions, obviously, but rather those of others. I heard that the book was bad, and the movie was worse. So, naturally, I thought to myself as I was reading the introduction that this was just another novel about a woman trying to discover her self though certain adventures, and in this case travel and eating and prayer and love. And it is. But as I got going I started feeling what the Gilbert did before her travels and during. I dug deeper into the text to only find out that, in my opinion, it was less of a journey of "self discovery" but more of the escape from her internal pain and self doubt and just a pinch of  her insecure relations with everybody surrounding her. As I read deeper and thought deeper, my vision of the novel suddenly changed from a story about eating, praying and loving, to a book of pleasure, escape, and healing. All senses humans feel, yet some are afraid to admit to. I personally think that Gilbert is getting pleasure, a feeling that was astray in her life back in NY, from her breakfast, lunch and diner. Escape is the praying. Praying is a detailed practice that lets us, the universe of humans, escape from our lives and look upon them from above. And lastly, the feeling of healing from love. In her "old life", Gilbert experienced such emotionally harmful relationships with both her husband and David, so her travels was not only a trip of discovery, but a trip of healing from her wounds previously acquired. Gilbert's writing style is extremely relatable, cynical yet very casual. I love the part where Gilbert writes: "Go back to bed Liz." (16) over and over and over again. In these lines she is slightly admitting her venerability while still acknowledging that something had to change in her life in order to feel happy again, and the first step for her, was going to bed. I can completely relate to the feeling of being so emotionally drained, that the only thing possibly left to do is just sleep and sleep and sleep. And I think a lot of people can as well. So, in conclusion, I am really enjoying the novel. I feel compelled to write even more, however I will stop for now, and I will continue reading.

Prompt #1

Every class I have ever taken has been very safe, and to me, learning should be the complete opposite. The normal black and white class has not yet pushed me to open up and share who I am and what I expect in my own life, yet alone my own self. I hope this course will be the first to do so. My true expectations are not yet completely decided but I do know two things. One, I need this course to push me in whichever direction I need to be pushed in to learn as much as possible and to gain a better understanding of whatever we jump into. And two, to point out the obvious, I need  this course to relax and to help me accept the college process and learn to breath though the stress, letting what is meant to happen, happen. Lastly I want to explore the world of literature, to go outside the box, and to do lots and lots of meditation.