I’ll tell you one of the really good things about getting older: Slowly, you sta…

I'll tell you one of the really good things about getting older: Slowly, you start to work out a comprehension of your own inherent madness. Last night, besieged by jetlag, kept awake and worried by lingering dental pain, ruminating over an unresolved (though by no means fatal) interpersonal issue and maybe (just MAYBE) experiencing just the tiniest (TEENSIEST) bit of PMS, I had one of those really bad 3am episodes. You've all been there, right? You all know what goes down at 3am when you let your mind act out like a drunken sailor on a 24-hour shore pass? (No actual drinking was involved, boringly.) Anyhow, you all know how it goes — so I will spare you the details.

EXCEPT to say that I remembered this line, quoted below, which gave me the perspective to recognize that it would probably be really healthy for me not give my thoughts very much credence at this unpleasant moment of flash anxiety. Because I am old enough to know better. Old enough to know that I've been here before, and to wait it out — the way you stand under a tree during a rainstorm. Old enough to know that I don't necessarily have to take action on every one of my thoughts. Old enough to know that sometimes my opinions are wrong — or at least shady. Old enough to know that making decisions based upon a 3am worry-bout hardly ever leads to good results. Old enough to know that there are certain times of day and month when my decision-making is not entirely to be trusted. Old enough to know that the best thing for me to do at such a moment is go to a quiet room, open up my favorite volume of Hafiz poems, and read them aloud to myself until that old, generous mystic reminds me once more of all the wit and magic and comfort of love. (Hence my middle-of-the-night Hafiz posting, 6 hours ago. THANK YOU, HAFIZ.)

Then sleep in until 10am. Wake up feeling better. Live to fight another day. Be grateful that I allowed nothing to escalate out of my mind last night. Be grateful for the strategies that come with age. Make some tea. Be grateful for the tea. Feed the cats. Be grateful for the cats. Go kiss husband. Be grateful for the husband.

It's all gonna be alright.

Love
Liz

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall

It’s MOVIE MONDAY again! OK, everyone — I missed this last week when I was away…

It's MOVIE MONDAY again!

OK, everyone — I missed this last week when I was away in Australia, but here it is again…movie monday! Click below to watch my official book trailer for my new novel "The Signature of All Things." I'll be showing it every Monday until October 1 (only six weeks away! crazy!) when the book finally comes out.

https://www.elizabethgilbert.com/video/

And if any of you dear souls would like to do me a solid and pre-order the novel, you can do so right here:

https://www.elizabethgilbert.com/books/the-signature-of-all-things/

Can't wait for you to all meet Alma Whittaker…

Heart,
Liz

Video | Elizabeth Gilbert – The Official Website | ElizabethGilbert.com
www.elizabethgilbert.com
"The Signature of All Things" promo trailer Elizabeth talks about THE SIGNATURE OF ALL THINGS Elizabeth Gilbert: A new way to think about creativity TEDTal

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall

I love this quote. I heard once that the anthropological definition of intellige…

I love this quote. I heard once that the anthropological definition of intelligences is "curiosity, combined with a desire to put things into logic patterns." (I was delighted that the definition did not include, say, "ability to read a map.")

All my most fruitful seeking and making in life has been born out of curiosity, and hopefully always will be. I feel like curiosity and stubbornness have been the two guiding stars of my existence as a writer, in particular. (The author Robert Stone once quipped, recognizably, that he had the two worst character faults possible in a writer — that he was lazy, and a perfectionist. I've always thought that if you can trade those two creativity-killing traits out for simply being curious and stubborn, then you are ON YOUR WAY.)

I'm on record, too, as having said that I prefer curiosity as a driving force of life to passion. (Interesting that Einstein uses both words here.) Passion, to my mind, is a tall order, emotionally consuming, sometimes difficult to reach or sustain. Curiosity is more gentle and enduring — a tap on the shoulder, rather than a flaming torch. Curiosity doesn't burn out, or cause you to be wildly reckless. Curiosity never says, "Let's jump off that cliff!", but often says, very softly, "Let's see what happens if we open that door, shall we…?"

It has been my curiosity about plants, for instance, that pushed me to write "The Signature of All Things" — not necessarily a passion for botany, just a little twinge of constant inquisitiveness, a little sense of: "Huh. I wonder what that all about?" And I followed that whisper all the way to the end of the novel.

So a toast today to the places curiosity can take us…and tell me, where has it taken you?

All love,
Liz

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall