At the nudging of my long-time friend Tristan Coopersmith, someone I love and adore (she wrote Menu Dating – go get it, single people,) I picked up Eat, Pray, Love.
I had heard of it, as have we all, but hadn’t picked it up yet, and when Tristan and I had dinner last year – after like 10 years of not seeing each other – and she heard about my big gay divorce, my engagement to Megan, the first road-trip, and everything in-between, she insisted that I read it.
I dragged my feet about buying it and finally picked it up in the airport early in 2009 and read it in short time… it’s engaging and funny, and pulled at all of my feelings of change and grief and excitement and guilt and fear. And it made me feel like I:
- could finally finish my book – no it’s not done. It’s nearing the finish line, but certainly not there yet.
- wasn’t the only person on the planet who felt all of this crazy shit all at once.
- didn’t have to feel so much guilt about my big gay divorce.
- could let go of all of the before, finally.
Books are cathartic for people. I don’t usually have a very strong reaction to books – I mean, I cried like a baby through like 1/2 of The Hour I First Believed – but it usually stops there.
Eat, Pray, Love was great, and was recommended by someone I adore and almost never get to see, and so has double duty staying power.
