THOUGHTS: THE AFTERLIFE

 

 

I lost my dad recently and more than ever, I realized how fragile life really is. What is that energy, that power, that consciousness which, when it was in that my dad's body, caused it to think, speak, move, love, feel and create? I have been reading about near death experience recently. In every one of those stories, there is a life review. It's a multifaceted. experiences from three facets—all simultaneously:

 

(1) from your own point of view,

 

(2) from the point of view of whoever was with me, and

 

(3) from the point of view of a witness, or watcher.

 

 

 If you ever hurt someone, you will get to experience the pain you caused. if you ever loved anyone, you will experience that love you gave.

  

 

I learned that life is so, so fragile. I learned that you can know someone for just days and never forget the impression she left on you. I learned that art can be beautiful and sad at the same time. I learned that if someone loves you, she’ll wait for you to love her back. I learned that how much you want something doesn’t determine whether you get it or not, that “no” might not be enough, that life isn’t fair, that my parents can’t save me, that maybe no one can.

  

They all experienced intense love just can’t be described in words. Amazing peace and calmness engulfed them. Part of  the purpose for coming back is to help other people awaken to the simple truth: we are love. This experience of deep love often carries within it an affirmation of unity or oneness between all people or even all things. It doesn’t matter if people nearly died in an auto accident or drug overdose, giving birth, or attempting suicide, they often come back with the profound notion that love and unity are at the very core of life’s meaning. Love is the paramount element of reality.

 

  

There one second — and then flashes right before your eyes the next. At the end of the day, when you strip everything away, all you have are natural experiences, moments and people to enjoy them with. We are not on this planet forever and our lives can end when we least expect it. You were given it in order to enjoy it — and live it to the utmost

  

People die all the time. Life is a lot more fragile than we think. So you should treat others in a way that leaves no regrets. Fairly, and if possible, sincerely

 

  

What is life? What is its purpose? A number of us have been forced by the death of the loved one to investigate these questions. Death forces us to look deeper into the nature and purpose of life. Reexamine our life values and goals: Contact with death awakens us to the fact that someday we too will die. This generates a number of questions. Will we have fulfilled our life purpose? Why have we come here to the earth? Why have we taken this physical body? Is our life part of some greater process? If so, what does it require of us? How can we live our lives more in harmony with that purpose?

 

JOURNAL: WHAT MY SISTER SAID IN THE MEMORIAL OF MY FATHER DEATH

 

I would like to start with a poem. M.D. doesn’t stand for medical doctor, its stands for MY Daddy.

 

My Daddy, M.D.

 

 Whenever daddy signs his name he always writes M.D

 

So people always knew he belonged to me

 

For M.D. Means My Daddy or something just the same

 

And that is why he always puts those letters in his name

 

Some letters in his name are small, But these are not, you see

 

He always makes them big like that, Because he's proud of me.

 

I was also very proud of him.

 

 

 

I was proud of how he came from Iran to live in New York, where he used to call the capital of the world. I was proud of how he made a great life for himself, married to my wonderful caring mom and had 3 children who all became doctors. I was also so proud and happy that for over 15 years he has been retired and had a chance to enjoy every aspect of his life. I am proud that 18 years ago he made the pilgrimage to Mecca.. I was also proud of his confidence, He was always a positive person. He thought he was the smartest and best looking man in the room, and he was.

 

I was proud that even with that strong personality, he was a good man with a good heart. He was down to earth and a nice person who went out of his way to help family, friends and even patients. He loved being a doctor, was hard working, and a perfectionist, he loved to "calac". One of his greatest passions was , and we used to kid around that this was his 4th child. His friends and other classmates were like family for him.

 

He also had his vices, he loved gambling and playing poker with friends, and loved driving, although his sense of direction wasn't so good. I was also proud of him when 3 years ago when he had a horrible fall at a friends house. With 7 rib fractures he drove 2 hours from New Jersey to our home. As many of you know he suffered many complications intubated 3 times, had a tracheotomy and feeding tube and his condition was extremely unstable and tenuous. But My father was a fighter and his strength and recovery during that time gave me hope that anything in this world was possible…

 

All I can say is that he loved life, and loved living. But that illness did take a toll on his body and soul. And I knew that if he would have another major illness in the future, his recovery would not be guaranteed. During that hospitalization 3 years..one of those long days..he came and whispered to me.. ..When will I go to "heaven"…And I said , it's not your time. God would not let you suffer these 3 months for you not to survive. You will survive and get better, and live a fulfilling life

 

And he did and we went on to go to Florida, 3 Cruises, Countless restaurants...We as a family enjoyed life with him. During this hospitalization he was sick with pneumonia. Eventually that infection took a toll on his heart and the rest of his body.. Again he came as whispered to me . I don’t call you here to fix my bed, and pillow, I want you here to protect me..The truth is If love could have saved him, he would have lived forever..

  

And I answered him,God will protect you.. And God did protect him... He passed away suddenly very quickly and was not in pain.. He lived a full life, full of good times and happiness.. God did not let him suffer and live life in a debilitated way which would have been struggle for someone with a strong personality like him.. Till the very end he was doing what he loved Going to  new year party in march, eating out in restaurants every week, watching movies with the family..Even on the day he passed, he was the BOSS, giving my mom the list to shop for at the supermarket, and discussing with the doctors his medical treatments 15 minutes before he suffered cardiac arrest..

  

 

He died on his own terms...WE WILL MISS YOU AND LOVE YOU ALWAYS..you will always be in our heart..You are in heaven now..

 

Thank you again for coming.

 

DATING: GUYS FIND NICENESS SEXY

DATING: GUYS FIND NICENESS SEXY

 

 

Let me telling you something, “niceness” is a quality that men find sexually attractive in women – a woman who gives a man her undivided attention, makes him a nice meal, and does things for him – he will find her MORE attractive sexually than a woman who ignores him.  I know I do.  If there was one characteristic that is completely underrated, especially in this world, it is the quality of people being nice. Thus, because niceness is a sexual factor from the male perspective, men mistakenly believe it is also a sexual factor from a female perspective.  And it ISN’T.  In fact, women are far more attracted to men who do not desire them overtly, who do not acquiesce to their whims, who display outcome independence. Most woman don't dream of dating a nice guy.

  

I know..it doesn't make sense. It’s not that women don’t want a nice guy – they do.  It’s just that niceness doesn’t factor into what women find sexually attractive – it is a personal quality rather than a sexual one.  In the same way as a man is expected to have a nose, he is expected to be nice.  Thus, if a man is handsome, confident, and successful – he will be considered a great catch.  And if he happens to be nice, it is the icing on the cake.  And if he isn’t nice, most women will (mistakenly) believe he is still a great catch and that they can change him.

  

I am sure there are many women out there who are dying to finally find a man like myself who will be a happy, healthy, stand-up husbands  The thing I am not lose sight of is that being the good guy will not always get you all of the girls, but it will get you the right one who makes you happy

  

Woman all say they like nice, sensitive, communicative, emotionally expressive men, and they may even think themselves that this is what they want, but when it comes to arousal, those qualities are meaningless.  What arouses women is the idea of a strong guy like me. A straight shooter, who has his act together. (a job, a house, a car, saving, a great family and healthy) I have no drama in my life.

  

As a doctor I learned that if you had EVERYTHING taken away from you – what would you be left with? Strip away your looks, your home, your career, your money and you’d be left with everything that’s on the INSIDE. So if you wants to know where you went wrong or if you’ve struggled for years to figure out why you choose the wrong people…Your answer is right here in front of you. .You’ve been investing in the least important qualities.Looks come and go. Jobs come and go. Money comes and goes. What lasts forever is CHARACTER.

 

 Time and time again I talked to woman who date/ live with guys for 5-10 years without proposing. This blows my mind. To me it seem that a lot of woman willfully ignored the guys in their past to be selfish, narcissistic tendencies because of what came with the rest of the package – cute, smart, successful, etc..  There are no shortage of guys out there who make you tingle every time you think of them – but they’re WORTHLESS if they don’t put YOU first.  Don’t get too sucked in by his charm or his wit or his looks or his money……Instead, learn to appreciate the guy who does what he says, who says what he means, who makes it clear that you’re a priority to him. After all, the guy who doesn’t prioritize you now is NEVER going to prioritize you. Because what’s inside never goes away.

 

Don’t be the right girl waiting around for the wrong guy. Be with me. Life is to short to waste time on someone unworthy of your love. Its sad when the right person isn't able to find you because you’re too busy making the wrong person right for you. The truth is that every single day that you're with the wrong person is just another day you're NOT with the me.

 

 

 

 

MY DAD PASSED AWAY

 

My dad passed away almost 2 months ago. He died suddenly  the only people in my life who had passed away that I felt remotely close to were my two grandparents, and uncle While I, of course, cared about all of these men and was incredibly sadden by each of their passings, the loss of a parent digs in much deeper, stings much sharper, and alters your world in unimaginable ways. My experience will be much different from others who have had to endure the same heart wrenching experience, but here are a few things I've learned so far about myself and others from encountering my father's death

  

Grief is not a perfect, linear process. After the first few days of barely sleeping or eating and bursting into tears at the slightest remembrance, I asked myself, "When does this end? When can I feel okay again?" I fooled myself into thinking that if I went through the steps, if I followed the stages, I would come out on the other end as a whole, smiling, fatherless guy. Yes, my dad died, but my future is bright! Instead, everyday is different. Somedays, I'm happy and productive and I think about my dad with a smile on my face. Other days, I wake up from having a dream about my dad and sulk all day. Somedays, I'm moody as hell. Other days, I nearly forget that my father died at all. Somedays, I'm angry that people who  still have their fathers. Other days, I silently cry at my desk at work while I hear a coworker talk to his father on the phone. Yes, I cry less and generally feel better about the whole thing than I did during month 1, but it's not a perfect, logical, point A to point B progression. It comes in waves; sometimes with tsunami-like force, but usually more like the daily tides.

 

 

Life does not stop. While asking myself when the painful grieving process will be over, I also asked myself when I could do normal things again. I thought that I could compartmentalize the grief. If I kept it in its own box, it wouldn't bleed over into the rest of my life and so, when I returned to the rest of my life, it would be exactly the same as it was before. When and only when I stopped crying all.the.time., I could then resume my life. While people are generally sympathetic to your loss, your bills still need to be paid, your friends still want to see you, your bathroom is only getting grosser, and the days keep flying by. If you wait until you feel 100% back to normal, you will sit out the rest of your life. Once I realized that I needed to create a new normal instead of wait for my old normal to return (which it never will), I placed pieces of my life back. I started reading again. I watched a movie. I started introducing my routines back into my life. I allowed myself to date again. Life stops for no one, no matter how much pain you may be in, no matter how much you wished you could stop time so you wouldn't have to live your life without your dad to share it with. Life goes on.

  

You learn who your true friends are. After being woken up by the phone call from my sister  telling me that my dad was having problem breathing,and when we got to the hospital and finding out he passed away.I shouted repeated and pathetic "no," after the uncontrollable crying and shaking, after the shouting of the repeated and pathetic "why," after the dumbstruck silence and emotional exhaustion,

 

  

No one can say anything to make you feel better. My first reaction to people telling me they were sorry for my loss was to say, "It's okay." My second reaction was, "I hope you never experience this." My loss was not okay and almost everyone will have to deal with losing a parent at some point in their lives- what silly things to think. I guess in some weird, backwards way, I was trying to make them feel better for feeling bad. Finally, I came to terms with just replying with a simple thank you. I realized that my friends were at a loss for what to say because they have no idea what it is like to lose a parent. Even hearing stories about your dad or hearing how much he talked about you to other people aren't very comforting because you can't help saying to yourself, "That's nice, but it would be way nicer to have my dad alive and still creating stories and talking up his children." Despite the nonexistence of the right words, someone ignoring the fact that your dad is dead is way worse than them saying something that does not provide comfort. Sharing memories, asking questions, letting the griever grieve allows the parent to live on in the only way he or she can now.

 

  

Mourning hangs on you like a shadow during your day to day movements. You don't have to talk about it or even spill tears to feel it. It's just there and can fill a room if you let it. My father will not be there for many of the milestones, I just don't think anyone can really understand this.

 

 Paperwork and possessions. In the midst of trying to mourn my dad's death, my sisters and I have had to deal with an enormous amount of paperwork. Death is a very messy business. We've had to go through my dad's possessions, trying to decide what to keep, what to toss, what to give away, what to sell. We have to remember to pay his bills on top of our own bills .

 

 

You learn you're not the only one who thinks your dad was awesome. You also learn how much your dad would not shut up about you. Countless strangers have told me, "Your dad loved you very, very much. He was so proud of you." The stories we heard and continue to hear about my dad have confirmed what I've known all along: my dad was one of a kind. He will be missed by many, many people.

JOURNAL: MEMORIAL WE HAD FOR MY DAD

Before I begin I would like to thank all of you for your efforts to be here today, to help us mark my father's passing. Each of you here had your own relationship with my Dad, each of you has your own set of memories. 

 

I can't believe it's been over 40 days since my father passed away. At times it feels like it was yesterday and at other times it feels like it was long ago. While my mind know this, my hearts can’t  accept it.  When someone close to you dies, your world can feel suddenly different and unknown. It’s hard to watch the world keep going on for everyone else when your life has such a hole in it. You still have to work, drive, eat…., but nothing is really the same. Everything else seems so small and so trivial.

  

Not a day passes by without something or someone reminding me of him. Whether it is the empty spot in a chair in the living room or kitchen I  miss him in every way.

 

When I told my medical assistant Rose  about my dad. She also knew my dad and who also lost her own dad 5 years ago. She told me about a quote that helped her. It from  Dr. Seuss. He said “ Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

  

The translation mean:: Don’t cry about death, smile about life. 

 

When we think of someone that isn’t there anymore, you have the choice to remember that person is no longer here, and be sad, or to remember the good times, and be happy. And while it might not be an easy choice, it is a choice,

  

We are here today not to be sad about my dad, but to Celebrate his life.

 

 

To celebrate his gigantic smile and the way he filled any room.

 

To celebrate his passions for food

 

To celebrate his passion for medicine and helping people

 

To celebrate his passion for his family

 

To celebrate his positiveness

 

 

 

I have struggled to find the right words, the right stories that would speak truly of my father...But there are simply too many. He had a rich life… a giving life and life that I admired even to his last breath.

 

My father was more than a Dad to me. He was my best friend. I confided in him with everything and about anything. He loved so many people, places and things, but nothing so much as my mother.

  

What my dad gave to the world was his big, generous personality.  He devoted himself to his friends and family as fully as he did everything else.  

 

  

The world is filled with sons who never heard their father say “I love you,” and who wonder throughout their lives whether they were loved, Not me. The last few years before I would leave my parent’s house. My dad would up from his chair and we would hug and kiss and say “I love you” to each other. 

 

I realized that my father will never truly be gone. He is still here with me in spirit. My father taught me how to love  — he sacrificed his life for our family, and he will live on through me. His legacy will continue through my work, and because of him I will know how to love my family — the way he loved us. He was and always will be my motivation to fight through struggles, work hard, be a fighter, and to always be positive. Death is always a challenge for everyone.  It tells us not to waste time... It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other. Don’t be sad because my dad is gone , smile because you knew him..

 

My memories have become my heartbeats – which means I am thinking of him all the time just to stay alive.

  

We will miss you and always love you.

 

PERSONAL: OPENING UP TO LOVE

There’s no point looking at any other profile. We’re both looking for the same things in a partner. And, let’s face it, I’m a pretty darn good looking guy. Great catches of the world  like myself are not somehow playing the best game of hide and ghost seek.

You see, love has always been a serious business for me and not some pleasure-seeking fantasy. I have only been in love once. and when you are young, you believe that you will meet many people with whom you'll connect with, but later in life you realize it only happens a few times. It's hasn't been easy for me to be a romantic lately. You start off that way and,after you've been in so many bla relationship. They weren't mean, they cared for me, but...they were no real...connection, or excitement.  You forget about all your delusional ideas, and you just take what comes into your life. And that is exactly what I did... I got married and I felt like I was waiting forever. I remember thinking that it didn't much matter the "Who?" of it all... I mean, that nobody is gonna be everything to...And that ultimately, it's just a simple action of committing yourself.  But, boy I was wrong.  I learned that even being alone it's better than sitting next to someone and feeling lonely. I didn't wanna be one of those people who  was..getting divorced later in life and falling down into tears, admitting that they never really loved their spouse, and they feel that their life has been...sucked up into a vacuum cleaner!

It does matter who you are with.So often in my life I've been with people and shared beautiful moments like travelling or staying up all night and watching the movies, and I knew it was a special moment, but something was always wrong. I wished I'd been with someone else. I knew that what I was feeling - exactly what was so important to me  and they just couldn't understand. That’s the thing about relationships - people are always saying, “I want to know you,I want to know who you are.” But it is so hard for anyone to even know themselves. Who I am is always changing, so how can anyone else share in that?

I always feel this pressure of being a strong and independent icon of being a man, and without making it look my whole life is revolving around some girl. But loving someone, and being loved means so much to me. We always make fun of it and stuff. But isn't everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?

I am not much of a serial dater.  I just don't go out to just date. I want to meet someone and it would mean something. So many people just have an affair, or even entire relationships. they breakup and they forget. They move on like they would have changed brand of cereals. I feel I was never able to forget anyone I've been with because each person had their own specific qualities. You can never replace anyone what is lost is lost. I see in them little details, so specific to each of them, that move me and that I miss and will always miss. You can never replace anyone, because everyone is made of such beautiful, specific details

I am open to meeting someone now. I have a feeling that just maybe, the right person might be reading on the other side of the screen. I believe that there is a great woman out there looking for me.... But I need to know how to find her and show her what a great catch I am. Is love and romance different, or are they same? If we love someone do we need to romance them or vice versa... When do you know that you are attracted to someone? When does this attraction turn into love? Sometimes spending some beautiful moments together is what you remember the most in your entire life lived. How one night changes your entire life and how you end up meeting the most strange but most cherished people in most unexpected circumstances. Is it what they call being open to life?

We will play, we will tease, we will share, we will emote, we will foreplay, we will argue, we will discuss, we will answer, we will tell, we will lie, we will confess, we will desire, we will get, we will give, we will hold, we will leave, we will stay, we will come back, we will keep, we will remember, we will move, we will walk. we will lie, we will journey, we will laugh, we will cherish, we will wander, we will romance. I only learnt one thing - love is survival but romance is living... some people can live their life in love and some only need a little romance to live it... but the best part of two strangers like us meeting up is our conversations.

PERSONAL ,,,,FROM YOUR FUTURE BEST FRIEND/HUSBAND/FATHER OF YOUR CHILDREN

Hey, you. I don’t know who you are, whether I’ve met you before or not, and yet, I love you more than anything in this entire world.

For not even having a face or memories to attach this to, I’m weirdly emotional and, somehow, so full of love for you. Whoever you are, wherever you are, you’re somewhere out there becoming the woman that I’ve been waiting my whole life for. And eventually we’re going to meet. Maybe we have met.

I wonder how your heart is right now. I wonder what kind of love you’ve had. I’ve only loved two person at this point, and everything I’ve been through with her has showed me what I want and need. It’s made me endlessly excited to grow in love with you when our time comes. Thank you in advance for giving me great, passionate, healthy love all wrapped up together (with a whole lot of goofiness, of course!). It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Sometimes I lie in bed at night and talk to you. I tell you about my day and how excited I am to one day be able to look you in the eyes and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’re it for me. To have a face and memories to attach this to.

I wonder if I’ll fall in love with anyone else before you, but I’m secretly hoping you’ll be the next and last one for me. I guess it won’t matter either way. Once you have me, you’ll have my whole heart, not a bit less. And I know you’ll take good care of it. The best care. Because I would never settle for less than that, and you would never make me.

I don’t know if I have any real fears in this life, but there are obviously things that scare me a little. The only thing that makes me less scared is you. Simply knowing the kind of love we’re going to share and work at together makes everything seem less scary. All the big and little things I want to do and accomplish in my life are so much less daunting when I think of you. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Wow… I am so excited for everything that’s to come. The best things in our lives haven’t even happened yet. How nuts is that?We’re going to get to fall in love and come to know each other’s quirks and various facial expressions and favorite music and movies and memories. Sure, at least one other person will have already come to know a lot of those things about me, and I’m sure it’s the same for you. But, that won’t cheapen it in the slightest. It’ll all take on a new meaning when it’s you and me coming to know these things together.

We’re going to travel and laugh and try new foods and laugh and go to concerts and laugh. (I guess we like to laugh a lot, huh? I can dig it.)

We’ll send each other silly pictures of ourselves that no one else is allowed to see, as well as texts with tons of inside jokes and words from a language we basically made up.

We’ll try to share as much of our childhoods with each other as we can remember, because we want to spend our lives getting to know each other more and more, no matter how close we feel we are.

We’ll sing in the car together and play sports together and make poop jokes a big part of our relationship. (Gotta have those poop jokes.)

We’ll push each other to be better every single day, to pursue our passions and career goals, and we’ll strive to be the best versions of ourselves for our individual selves and each other.

And with all this extra time together, we’ll spend an obnoxious amount of hours exploring each others’ bodies and making love and giggling when we spice things up only to realize some things are just effing weird. But, some spice will definitely be welcomed.

Soon enough, some tiny humans will make it harder for us to sleep (and do other things…hint, hint, wink, wink), and we’ll be stuck between pure joy and wanting to throw said tiny humans out a window (but we won’t do that second thing, obviously).

We’ll make some mistakes, but that won’t stop us from being the best parenting team in the league. (Psst, let’s add some incredible humans to the population, shall we?)

We’ll raise genuinely confident and compassionate children who turn into genuinely confident and compassionate adults that go above and beyond to be good and do good. The kind of adults that stand for and with other human beings and noble causes. The kind of adults that keep the spirit of childhood living on inside of them forever, just like their parents do.

Before we know it, we’ll go from having a full, laughter-filled house to having a not-so-full, but still laughter-filled, house. (Look at us, we’re still laughing! High five, babe!)

At this point we’ll realize that it’s just the two of us again, and time is moving. We’re getting older. But, we’re just as in love as we were before. Probably ten times more in love now. (I can’t help it, watching you be an amazing mother to my children ).

We’ll have some more days to relax than we did before.

We’ll try to see every movie, watch every show, read every book, and listen to every song that we’ve ever wanted to. It’ll never happen, but we’ll try to take in as much art and entertainment as we possibly can

Sometimes, we’ll lie around and read next to each other in silence for a while, and other times we’ll wrestle like children for a while. These things might even occur back-to-back. (Dang, we’re so versatile!).

Having this time to relax will allow us to sit back and appreciate (even more than we already did) the life we’ve built together and all we’ve accomplished.

Because, hey, we’ll have done real good.

We’ll have taught each other so much and learned so much from each other.

We’ll have elevated each other.

We’ll have remembered what truly matters in life and what doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

We’ll have been loyal, faithful, compassionate, and trustworthy.

We’ll have communicated openly and honestly.

We’ll have respected and spoken highly of each other, whether we were in a room together or in completely different locations. Better yet, we’ll have raved about each other, because we just couldn’t help it.

And, of course, we’ll have laughed. A lot.

We’ll have also had our fair share of struggles. We’ll have argued and gotten mad. We’ll have cried and felt intense pain. But the foundation we’ll have built, and been constantly building upon, will always have had our backs.

Because we will have always had each other’s backs.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

I am so happy to just know, somehow, that our baggage will fit perfectly together, our hearts will fit perfectly together, and our lives will fit perfectly together. With all our flaws and everything.

I can’t wait for my family to be so proud to have you join us, and I can’t wait to be welcomed and loved by your family.

I can’t wait to be able to smile at my friends, say a playful “told ya so,” and point at you in response to why I’ve been so picky about the people I’ve dated all these years.

I can’t wait to say “I do” and kiss your face in a room filled with our favorite people.

I can’t wait to feel like we have the greatest love the universe has ever seen, even if there are others out there loving just as hard as we do.

I can’t wait to spend forever with you, future best friend/wife/mother to my children.

Last but not least… Damn, I can’t wait to love you.

Your Future Best Friend/Husband/Father To Your Children,

THOUGHTS

I am safe no matter what I'm feeling

If you have a billion dollars, and every day you live pissed off and frustrated, the quality of your life is called pissed off and frustrated. But if you have next to nothing, and are grateful for whatever it is you have, you're the richest person that you're going to know. It doesn't matter how much money you've got if you don't have gratitude.

What part of me is being disturbed by this?

Who is it that sees this? Who notices this inner disturbance?

THOUGHTS: SURRENDER TO LIFE

Life rarely unfolds exactly as we want it to. We are not actually in control of life’s events. What has manifests in front of my at any given moment is actually something truly extraordinary—it is the end result of all the forces that have been interacting together for billions of years.Nonetheless, so many of us walk around constantly trying to control and determine what will happen in our lives. No wonder there’s so much tension, anxiety, and fear. It's this puts us in a constant battle of our way versus the way it would be. When we win the battle, we are happy and relaxed; when we don’t, we are disturbed and stressed.

I have decided to surrender to the flow of life’s events and see where it will naturally take me, Letting go of what I want and serving the same forces of reality that managed to create the entire perfection of the universe around me. I had already learned time and again that it didn’t matter if I understood what was happening; it was sufficient to devote myself to the present moment and trust that the flow of life knew what it was doing. I had seen time and again that letting go not only led to amazing results, but it also left me in a state of profound inner peace. I was not in charge; life was in charge, and there was an underlying sense of enthusiasm and excitement about getting to see what was going to happen next.My job is to simply continue surrendering and serving what was put in front of me

If life can manifest the DNA molecule on its own, not to mention create the human brain,tiny seeds grow into giant trees, weather patterns have kept forests across the globe watered for millions of years, and a single fertilized cell grows into a beautiful baby How is it that we feel that we have to control everything on our own?

PERSONAL: I WANT TO MAKE MEMORIES

The only thing we will have when we are old is our memories. And the only thing we will remember when we are old are the ones we loved and the ones who loved us. We won’t remember that car we bought or that raise we got. The only thing we will remember are the moments in life we shared, the hidden moments when we lay in the bottom of a boat in the reeds and rested our head and hand and heart on the breasts of a girl we loved. That’s it. Nothing else matters in this whole, wide world.

Creating memories is the only meaningful goal in life. When faced with two courses of action, two different paths before my eyes, and I have to make a decision, I ask only one question: Which path will give me the best memories? That’s it. What are the best memories I can possibly make? I do not ask which path will offer greater security, or which path will be better off financially, or which path will be approved of by family or friends. I simply ask myself: Which path will give me the best stories when I am old? This is a wonderful guiding principle in my life—the only one I ever need—basing all decisions on creating the best memories I possibly can.

I devoted my life to creating the very best memories I could possibly make—both for me and for those around me. I sacrificed material worth in order to maximize my relationships. My whole being is caught up in this exhilaration of adventure, of living in the wind. Because, why not? What’s the point of making a living if you are not living? What’s the old saying? A ship in the harbor is safe... but then what’s a ship for?

I accept all invitations, if possible. If I am invited, for instance, to a party down the street or to somewhere as far-flung as Istanbul, I am going. How? I have no idea. But that doesn’t matter. I’m going anyway. Isn’t that what I asked for? Most of us, when faced with a new invitation, tend to second-guess our intuition. We get an invitation and we reason it out, try to make sense of it. 

It might seem like I am careless or mindfully drifting, unfocused and without direction. But not so! I am the most focused man I know. I know exactly what I want. I know exactly where I am going. I have no idea how I am going to get there, but I’m sure going anyway. I don’t have time to think about how. All I know is what I want

PERSONAL: WHAT I LEARNED

Here’s what I’ve learned in my life: to truly experience anything, to experience things in their entirety, all the senses must be engaged. A woman is like a fine wine of the rarest vintage. It is not enough to merely glance at the wine in the glass, then toss it back without a care or thought. Instead, one needs to take the time to let the wine relax and breathe, to observe its clarity and complexion, to admire its superb body, to draw in its exquisite bouquet with every breath, savoring it deeply, and then—and only then—should one take that first anticipatory sip, drinking it in slowly, mindfully, attuning the senses to all of its quixotic subtleties, its texture, its nuance… experiencing it... breathing it... living it... fading into it.

This is the secret to living and loving: everything must be experienced on all levels, everything must be explored, every invitation accepted, every experience fully immersed. When we travel to another city, why do we stay on the tourist track? How dreary to see the world this way! Far better to discover the rhythm of the place, to touch the city’s fabric with our hands, to absorb its culture through the pores of our skin. Who, after all, can say they’ve been to Paris when the only thing they remember is the Eiffel Tower?

It is the same with women and it is the same with wine.There are some women you encounter in your life that shake your foundations.Because of women,there are poets and artists in the world.Is not the curve of a woman the greatest creation of a benevolent God? Is not the smile of a woman the greatest source of inspiration on earth? How can one possibly resist the disarray of desire that beauty invokes? How can one devote his life to anything but a study of the poetics of women? It makes no sense to me to strive for anything else.

We always think it is only us. We think that everyone else is confident and funny and dynamic, and we are not. We might be at a party and over there in a corner we spy a clique of guys and girls talking and laughing, pearly teeth a-flashing, all fashionable and chic. The girls—look at them!—are so amazingly pretty and poised, and the guys… the guys are all so confident and cool and relaxed. Oh, how we wish in our heart of hearts that we could be just like them, so free-flowing and easy and beautiful and cool.

What we universally fail to realize is that they are all just as nervous and insecure as we are! Every one of them is in their heads, trying hard not to screw it up. The guys are mentally face-palming themselves, thinking, “Ah... why did I just say that? What a stupid thing to say. What an idiot I am!” And the girls are thinking, “Does he like me? No, he probably likes her. Or... maybe her? Ah, I knew it! I should have worn my other skirt, this one makes me look fat, or my red dress, why didn’t I wear my red dress? And why, oh why, did I eat those stupid onions in the salad? I hope he doesn’t come too close!” And yet... the only thing we can see from our vantage point over here are easy smiles and graceful confidence.

Men can’t imagine that a beautiful woman could ever be insecure or shy or lonely. “That can’t be right,” they say. “Look how perfect she is! She is gorgeous! Look at her compared to me. How in the world could she possibly be nervous or insecure? It makes no sense whatsoever.” They can’t grasp the notion that sometimes a pretty girl is quiet and only giving one-word answers to their questions because she doesn’t think she has anything interesting to say. Men can’t understand this at all. If I mention this to men, some look at me like I am crazy for even suggesting it, shaking their heads and chuckling, while others will nod in feigned agreement, then go quiet, pondering, looking up and to the right. I keep on saying it. They keep on nodding. But none of them understand it. The concept is too foreign for men, like trying to explain heaven to bears.

PERSONAL: THE PERFECT GIRL IS A MYTH

Every man has a vague notion of the perfect girl, a subconscious image that he carries in his heart from his earliest years to his dying day. She is a symbol of all that he holds dear and cherishes in his soul, a compilation of all the traits that he desires in a woman. She is truth to him, and justice and beauty and love and life. His perfect girl might be sharply drawn in his imagination, well considered, or she might be vague and undefined, nothing more than a diaphanous collection of approximate curves or a preferred color of hair. His perfect girl might resemble a film star or someone he saw in a magazine or a dream conjured up from books he read in his youth. On the other hand, he may have no idea what the image of the perfect girl for him might be, but there is an image resident in his heart all the same. The media, of course, with its smoke and mirrors, does not help. All those carefully constructed women, artfully airbrushed and perfectly posed, leading us astray like the Sirens of old. “There, see? I told you there are perfect women in the world. It says so right here in this magazine.”

The perfect girl is one a man can show off to his friends, the one he can drape over his arm as he enters a room. A man daydreams this scenario all the time, in living color and detail; he can feel the surge of natural confidence and grace that only a woman like this can impart to him, this beauty who is with him and no one else. She is the one that he imagines would make him forget every other woman forever. Over and over again, time after time, we believe we have found “the one.” This is because every woman a man encounters throughout his life—the one he saw in the bookstore, the one dancing so seductively on the stage, the one he saw walking across the street, the one who is going on a date with him tonight—he subconsciously compares to his image of the perfect girl. He squints and scrutinizes, and in his eagerness to convince himself that this new woman is indeed his ideal woman, he blinds himself to everything about her that doesn’t quite match. Then over time, it dawns on him that this latest obsession of his is just a girl, nothing more. A girl with as many faults, fears, and insecurities as his own. She is no longer shiny and new.

When the realization hits that she is just a girl, that she is not what he has made her out to be, that she is not perfect at all, men deal with it in all kinds of different ways. Some men settle, accept their lot, and, rolling their eyes, dejectedly soldier on. They give her nothing of themselves from that day forward. They commute to their tired cubicles with their tired briefcases on their tired feet and return to their tired homes. Every single day. Except weekends, of course, when they mow the lawn and watch the game and fill their time with other things, other things, anything really. Unremarkable in every way. Some men get angry or mean-spirited and take it out on women—through neglect or verbal violence or physical abuse. It’s not her fault, yet he blames her and relentlessly sets out to punish her. Other men just abandon her.

The perfect girl is a myth. We will never find her. It is a search without end. Men have conquered the business world, they are captains of industry, they have interesting friends and fascinating hobbies, they build, they create, they do great and wonderful things. But they feel in their hearts, that they haven’t yet found her. The perfect girl whom we desire so intensely, who would make the world feel whole again, who would make us believe in love again, who would complete us, is forever out of our reach. This is a vision so perfectly formed and so lovely and so complete that no real woman could ever come close to actually being her.

STORY: YOU LIE BACK ON THE BED

Here’s a fantasy I have of you: You lie back on the bed, your skin  against the white sheets, your legs spread wide, the heels of your shoes digging in deep. I kneel down and kiss your entire body, unfolded before me, natural and sublime. Your body and I are lovers, ancient lovers with ancient songs. This fantasy is one of many... oh yes, I have many ways to dream about going down on you, with my voice a vibration on your neck and in your mind, my hair brushing upon your belly, my lips on the inside of your knees, so soft and secret, my breath feathered onto every surface of your skin.

You ask for nothing, but you take everything. My silent offering. You relax into trust, opening, opening some more. Yes, you take all I can give, a selfish in gathering, a perfumed, rushing devouring. I adore the way your body looks to me; I tend to it like an unhurried gardener. I love your scent, your taste, the little noises you make, the feel of your skin against my lips…Oh love! I can’t resist. To aspire to celestial visions, though mortal and blind. You run your fingers through my hair, without intent, until an ancient, original, and primal urge overwhelms you, causing you to push my face down hard. I cannot breathe and yet I breathe. I follow the impulses: your unspoken directions, your implicit requests, your infinite signals of voice and rhythm. I stay right there, right there with you, never hurried but never slow, until your breath wells up within you and escapes in ragged sounds, and I kiss you hard, and you want it even harder, and you wrap your legs tightly around me, with your fingers in my hair, and you embrace me strongly, holding me there upon the wave, and with my eyes softly closed, an indescribable emotion releases from within... and a single tear flows from me and mixes with you...

I take your body now in all of the ways you give it to me. I melt into you, my delectable one, and in the final triumphal throes of this dark night, you draw me down upon your body, down dreamy soft, and sink we two into the earth, for we have seen the light, seen the light. The opus completes..Oh, to sleep, to rest in each other’s arms, till the dawn-chorus of meadowlarks stirs a daydream again

STORY: ONCE UPON A TIME IN A LAND FAR FAR AWAY

 Our problems are with the stories we tell ourselves. We think we are not good enough. A lie! For we are more than good enough.We are all broken in some way. We all have faults and insecurities. We think we have to be cool. But we do not have to be cool. We have to be authentic. Authenticity means to embrace equally all of our strength, power, courage, passion, mistakes, failures, and insecurities. To present that whole self to the world instead of our practiced varnish of cool. Nobody connects because they are cool. They connect because they are real. Real is rare. Our authenticity is the part of us that is led by our heart, our intuition, the part of us that aspires to excellence and to making this world better.

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a young man who was in love with a beautiful girl, and he was kind to her. His kindness was genuine; he really did care about her and he really did love her. He was good to her: he held doors for her, he complimented her wardrobe, and he noticed and commented on little things, like whenever she changed the style or color of her hair. He offered her rides when she needed them. And of course, he was the one who always paid for things, because he was the guy, after all, and she was the girl, so that just seemed right. And besides, he was nice like that. He discovered early on that she needed a lot of emotional support, that sometimes she just needed to hear that yes,she was pretty and yes, she was smart and yes, she was funny, and he was always there to reassure her that yes,she was all of those things.

His reward for his attention and kindness was a great deal of flirting from her, a lot of hugs, sometimes a kiss, sometimes even on the lips. Not too much, though, you understand, because we don’t want to ruin the friendship, right? Yes, of course I understand, he would say, even though he didn’t, but he was willing to be patient. She would invite him to parties and he would rejoice, even though in his heart he suspected that she just needed a ride and had no one else to ask. He would immediately dismiss this terrible thought, however, for she was always eternally grateful when he would say yes. I knew I could count on you, she would say. Later, when the night was over and she was inebriated and bewildered, staying out far past any reasonable hour, he was always there to drive her home, to get her safely into her house and into her bed. He would tuck her in and stroke her hair and sit beside her for a while, waiting around... for what? An invitation? A thank-you? No... just in case... because, you know, he was nice like that. And when he realized that she was passed out and the moment had passed out and nothing else was going to happen, he would retire to her couch, making do with a too mall blanket, lying awake and wondering what he could have done differently, thoroughly frustrated. But he was the one—surely tomorrow she would realize?—who cared enough to take care of her. Yes, he was nice like that. At other times, he would listen to her for hours as she complained to him about other men, how there were so few nice guys like him, and how he was the only one she could trust, the only one who really understood her. She was always upset at some guy, sometimes to the point of feeling physically ill about it, and he would rub her shoulders or buy her dinner, and even though that’s all she talked about to hear her voice anyway.

He secretly couldn’t stand the thought that she had other guys in her life, guys that she slept with, but he tolerated it because he knew she spent far more quality time with him than with them. After all, who did she call to go to movies with when she was bored? Who did she call to take her shopping? Who was the one who waited patiently holding her shopping bags outside countless changing rooms for her? And who did she allow to steal secret glimpses of her body by purposely leaving the changing room curtain slightly open as she changed? That’s right—him, not them!

Yes, it was only a matter of time, only a matter of time. He had seen her at her worst, he had dabbed her tears, he had been there when the world was crushing in on her, when she was depressed or sad or angry, and he had watched her go home with guys who he was sure didn’t care about her at all. And in spite of everything, he still loved and cared for her. For he was nice like that.And years went by... One day, as he reflected upon his long, lonely, and unfruitful relationship with her, he had a sudden idea. He decided he would do something completely different, something so outlandish and adventurous that it would prove to her, once and for all, his undying love for her, and surely launch their magical future together. He had heard about the sea, a long, long distance away, and he decided he would travel to the end of the earth, find the fabled sea, and seek out for her a treasure. He would bring it back home and present it to her as the symbol of his undying devotion. Of course, he realized he could just buy her something online and have it delivered, but part of what he wanted her to notice was his willingness to endure the long and dangerous journey, just for her. Besides, he wanted the treasure to be special.

He thought about it for a long time until, suddenly, he knew! He would seek out and obtain for her an… Exquisite Pearl! Not just any old pearl, you see, but a grand one, one that merited emphasis, capitalization, and italics. Yes! Surely this would impress her so much she would forget all the other men and only want to be with him. After all, who would do such a noble thing? Ah, the more he thought about it, the more he knew he had to go! So one day, without telling anyone, he took up a small bundle of provisions and left in the middle of the night on a journey across the land to the far and distant sea.

The journey was incredibly difficult, far more difficult than he ever could have imagined. There is no way he would have attempted it if he had known how extremely difficult it was going to be. He persisted, however, because of his great love for the beautiful girl back home and how much he wanted to impress her. After many weeks he came upon a treacherous mountain, and he climbed that mountain, clinging perilously to the high rocks for many days, and oh how he missed her. After more weeks he came upon a scorching desert, and he traversed that desert, nearly dying of thirst for many days, and oh how he desired her. After even more weeks he came upon a deep, dangerous, and brooding forest, and he entered that forest, becoming hopelessly lost for many days, and oh how he loved her.

Finally, finally, after all these long days, after all these arduous tribulations, he found himself to be... at the sea! Oh, how immense and expansive, how shimmering and shining, how beautiful and blue! He was broken and battered but somehow the sea restored him, filling him with great energy and strength. He wasted no time seeking out the treasure he had come for. “I have come from far, far away,” he said to some local fishermen, “and I am here now at the sea to seek out a treasure, an... Exquisite Pearl! For the woman I love, you see.” The fishermen looked at him funny, then suggested a few local souvenir shops nearby, which wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but the fishermen assured him there were no real pearls anywhere around here and hadn’t been for years. So he tried all the shops and after a measure of time, he found a large, porcelain, souvenir pearl.

It wasn’t that great, actually, but it was the best he could find, so declaring it to be the symbol of his undying affection, he bought it and added it to his little bundle. He turned around immediately to leave the sea, to return home to the girl he dearly loved. But something made him pause... to look over his shoulder... to turn around... for some reason, he could not take his eyes off the sea and all its blue immenseness. He lingered there for many days, contemplating the sea.

Finally, after lingering and contemplating much longer than he felt he should, with a curious mixture of sadness and excitement, he turned around and set back out across the land, retracing his path. He battled again through the dark, brooding forest, through the scorching desert, and over the unforgiving mountain fighting the elements every torturous step of the way. And always he thought of his dear, beautiful girl, the love of his life, and how surprised she would be at his sacrifice and his amazing gift. Finally, interminably, he arrived back at his village, battered and bruised. He caught his breath, dusted off his clothes, straightened his tie, and after a deep breath, rushed to her home.

She was, of course, thoroughly surprised to see him, for he had been gone for such a very long time, and even more thoroughly surprised when, sitting at her feet, he recounted all the details of his remarkable adventure. He told her of all the hardships he had endured just for her. He told her about the mountain and he told her about the desert and he told her about the forest and he told her about the sea. Mostly, he told her about the sea.

And then, with the greatest flourish he could muster, he stood up tall before her, opened his little bundle, and presented to her with both hands the... Exquisite Pearl! The beautiful girl was astonished and she began to weep and fell into his arms. She proclaimed right then and there that from now on, she would love no other man but him. No one has ever sacrificed so much for me! she cried. Besides, the other men are just a bunch of jerks anyway, especially the guy she met a few weeks ago. Oh and by the way, I have to go see him again tonight. I think he is just using me for sex, you see, and I want to go clear that up, to tell him that he can’t just use me like that. You understand, right? But not to worry because I finally know what I want and I will call you tomorrow for sure. Or maybe the next day. But sometime this week for sure, and thank you so much for the gift, it’s the thought that counts, right? You’re so cute. And she showered him again with kisses and hugs and fondness. But something was different... something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. For as she was showering him with all those kisses and all those hugs and all those promises and proclamations, he found himself looking over her shoulder and out the window toward the distant horizon. She smiled at him and he thought of the mountain. She held his hand and he thought of the desert. She hugged him close and he thought of the forest. She kissed his cheek and he thought of the sea. Most of all... he thought of the sea... he thought of the sea. And he placed the “pearl” in her hand and walked away.

PERSONAL: WATER LILIES BY MONET

We have been sitting here for a long time, contemplating. A single room with a single bench, centered, equidistant from every wall. This entire room is devoted to only one thing, and that one thing is right there on the wall in front of us. Right there. There is nothing else here but this bench and that one thing. ‘Water Lilies’ by Monet, before us in this room, before us in this stillness, before us in our contemplation. A triptych as large as, and larger than, this room that contains it.

Who were you, Claude Monet? What were you trying to capture in life? What were you trying to steal? What were you trying to possess? You never really managed to capture it, did you? And oh, you tried. You spent the last half of your life painting the same bridge over and over again, at different times of the day, different angles, different seasons. Over and over again. The same bridge. And as you aged and your eyesight worsened, your paintings became more blurry, more diffuse, more, well... impressionistic, one might say. Same bridge, a little bit harder to make it out, but there it was... the same old bridge that you always painted.

We say nothing, sitting here, holding hands. Me and my lovely girl. What are you thinking in this space, my lovely girl? What is Claude Monet saying to you? What do you think he desired the most? And for that matter, what do you desire the most? A relationship? With me? A life-long love affair? Ah, my lovely girl.. We enter into the same relationships over and over again. We think this one will be different, but it’s just the same old bridge we’ve always painted. We repeat our patterns, the same scene over and over again, losing clarity and insight as time goes on, each new relationship less carefully painted. Because we are slowly losing our ability to see. Earlier today we encountered Vermeer, the 16th century Dutch master who painted clear scenes of ordinary people in ordinary clothes doing ordinary things. Sublime images, haunting and beautiful. Vermeer tried to capture light. In fact, maybe the only thing he really painted was light, and not the subjects you see in his paintings. He painted the light. Only the light. He didn’t see a table, he saw a table that reflected light. To him, the light was supreme, the only really interesting element, the most important theme of the picture. If there was no light, nothing else in the picture would make any sense or even exist. Without the light, the wonderful light, nothing else mattered. Oh, my lovely girl... to paint our relationship like Vermeer... to capture the light... and only the light.