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DOLLY PARTON!

You guys, I'm about to faint. A friend of this page just sent me this link to a recent interview with Dolly Parton, where Dolly says she's been reading THE SIGNATURE OF ALL THINGS recently.

It comes at the end of this interview, so scroll on down, y'all:

https://bit.ly/VynlLC

This is quite simply the most star-struck I've ever been. I adore that woman. (As evidence, here you can see a photo of me from last year, wearing my WHAT WOULD DOLLY DO? t-shirt, which I got in Knoxville, TN.)

So Dolly Parton is hanging out with Alma Whittaker.

Which means: I guess my work here on earth is done.

Allow me, in homage, to share my favorite Dolly Parton quote. Someone once asked her if she got offended by dumb blonde jokes, and she replied, "No, honey — cuz I know I ain't dumb. And I know I ain't blonde."

Bow down!
LG

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall

COME MEET ME TODAY!

Dear Ones —

I will be signing books TODAY at my shop, Two Buttons, between 1 and 2pm.

Please feel welcome to stop by to say hello, and to pick up a signed book, and to have some popcorn and wine with us.

The address of Two Buttons is 62A Trenton Ave, Frenchtown NJ.

You can't miss it — it's the place with the giant marble buddha outside, and all the Balinese flags!

I will see you there…and I promise to comb my hair by then.*

🙂
LG

* full disclosure: I might not comb my hair.

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall

MERCY.

Dear Ones —

I was talking to my friend Rayya Elias the other day (author of the addiction/recovery memoir "Harley Loco", which I've spoken about many times on this page.) She was telling me about getting arrested for possession of heroin one day (as she had many times before) and ending up before a judge known for his harsh sentences. Rayya was guilty as hell. She was a full-out drug addict at the time, and living on the streets. She was the perfect picture of a lost cause. She probably looked like every other junkie the judge had ever seen — and in some ways, she was like every other junkie the judge had ever seen.

But in some ways, she wasn't.

When Rayya stood in front of the judge, she asked him if she could speak, and he allowed it. She bowed her head, and said, "Judge, all I ask of you today is this one request: Please give me mercy, not justice."

I got chills when I heard this.

Rayya was admitting her wrongdoing, and admitting that — as a criminal — she deserved punishment under the eyes of the law. But as a human being, she was asking for mercy, instead.

The judge gave her mercy. He put her in a rehabilitation center, instead of the three years in prison she "deserved". And now she is Rayya Elias — author, musician, hairstylist, realtor, sister, neighbor, traveler, bringer-of-joy, trusted friend. She is everything in the world except the junkie she once was.

I struggle with forgiveness — toward myself, toward others. It's what I struggle with more than anything. When I feel that I have been betrayed (or feel as though I have betrayed myself), my reaction is firm, fast, and unyielding. My chin goes up, my heart closes down, my indignation soars. I can sometimes be a very hard judge. I get all tied up in the details of what other people did wrong (or what I myself did wrong) and then I cast down my judgments in name of unyielding fairness — in the name of WHAT IS RIGHT. You guys, I'm serious: I can be a real cold-hearted hard ass sometimes — and to myself, just as much as to anyone else. (Actually, to myself worst of all, at times.)

I forget that sometimes we need mercy in this world more than we need justice. All of us need it. You need mercy, I need mercy, the junkie standing before the judge needs mercy, and the judge himself needs mercy, too.

This doesn't mean that you allow somebody to physically or emotionally abuse you. That's a different story. In that case, the only solution is to leave, to protect yourself. (The ultimate act of self-mercy, I would say.)

But as for many other situations — the kind of situations that get me all fired up and morally indignant — well, there may be some room for grace. More room than I may think, when I am preaching right vs. wrong.

So this is my Sunday prayer: Lord, teach me how to show mercy before justice — to others, and to myself, as well.

Have a beautiful day, everyone,
LG

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall

Summer reading suggestions, continued!

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall

So, last night at my event in Asheville, somebody asked me how I stay focused on my work when I have lost heart, or feel afraid, or have a crisis of confidence.

For me, I can only stir up my creativity when I ask myself the big cosmic question: "What have I come here to do?"

My answer has always been the same: "I came here to write."

I've always wanted to be a writer. I promised the universe that I would be a writer — long before anyone was buying my work. And let me make something clear: I never promised the universe that I would write WELL, or that my books would be beloved by critics, or that my work would resonate with people, or that my work would even be published, or that everything will turn out according to my desires. I merely promised that I would write. Full stop. Here's the contract: I will write to the best of my ability, and then I will release it. Whatever happens next — once I have released my work into the world — is none of my business. I just came here to write.

So, whenever I get frustrated, or blocked, or fearful, I remind myself that I came here to to be a writer. Then I turn my attention back toward writing and I ask it respectfully, "What do you need from me?"

Writing always gives me the same answer: "Your patience, and your labor."

And so I get back to work.

It is your patience and your labor that allows miracles to happen.

What did you come here to do?

Onward,
LG

via Elizabeth Gilbert’s Facebook Wall