Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert
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Eat, Pray, Love

It's 3 a.m. and Elizabeth Gilbert is sobbing on the bathroom floor. She's in her thirties, she has a husband, a house, they're trying for a baby – and she doesn't want any of it. A bitter divorce and a turbulent love affair later, she emerges battered and bewildered and realises it is time to pursue her own journey in search of three things she has been missing: pleasure, devotion and balance. So she travels to Rome, where she learns Italian from handsome, brown-eyed identical twins and gains twenty-five pounds, an ashram in India, where she finds that enlightenment entails getting up in the middle of the night to scrub the temple floor, and Bali where a toothless medicine man of indeterminate age offers her a new path to peace: simply sit still and smile. And slowly happiness begins to creep up on her.
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Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert
Eat, Pray, Love
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Well, I don't really know what to say about the book... On the one hand, the subject is rather interesting and the idea is great, but on the other hand, the presentation could have been better and the language more refined... I would prefer if the author would not mix all in one - self searching, sex, eating, meditation, Hinduism, praying, Buddhism, masturbation etc. - for it ends up being everything for everybody, but nothing really for anybody...

Елена Лим
Елена Лимshared an impression2 months ago
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Julia Sevostyanova
Julia Sevostyanovashared an impression5 months ago
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"To lose balance for love is part of living a balanced life"


Скучно капец. Подойдет для практики английского. Еле дочитала


“There is no old age like anxiety,” said one of the monks I met in India. “And there is no freedom from old age like the freedom from anxiety.”
You have more good luck than anyone I’ve ever met. You will live a long time, have many friends, many experiences. You will see the whole world. You only have one problem in your life. You worry too much. Always you get too emotional, too nervous. If I promise you that you will never have any reason in your life to ever worry about anything, will you believe me?”
might actually get up the juice to kiss me
Humor is hard to catch in a second language.
By then, we mutually anticipated, I would have grown weary of traveling and would be happy to live in a big, busy household full of children and homemade quilts, with a garden in the backyard and a cozy stew bubbling on the stovetop.
The day is ending. It’s time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful.
Yet I don’t get depressed here. I can cope with, and even somehow enjoy, the sinking melancholy of Venice, just for a few days. Somewhere in me I am able to recognize that this is not my melancholy; this is the city’s own indigenous melancholy, and I am healthy enough these days to be able to feel the difference between me and it. This is a sign, I cannot help but think, of healing, of the coagulation of my self. There were a few years there, lost in borderless despair, when I used to experience all the world’s sadness as my own. Everything sad leaked through me and left damp traces behind.
Sincere spiritual investigation is, and always has been, an endeavor of methodical discipline. Looking for Truth is not some kind of spazzy free-for-all, not even during this, the great age of the spazzy free-for-all.
worn out that day
The word “stress” comes from the Latin word for compression, and that compression is what prematurely ages us—compacting us, physically and emotionally, into a feeling of frailty and brokenness. (“There is no old age like anxiety,” said one of the monks I met in India. “And there is no freedom from old age like the freedom from anxiety.”) To fight against that compression is to open up your life, to create possibility where once there was nothing but pressure. Within that newly opened space, youth has a chance to return.
’ho provato sulla mia pelle
we all tend to wince at our words, in retrospect
Having a baby is like getting a tattoo on your face. You really need to be certain it’s what you want before you commit.
We’re miserable because we think that we are mere individuals, alone with our fears and flaws and resentments and mortality. We wrongly believe that our limited little egos constitute our whole entire nature. We have failed to recognize our deeper divine character. We don’t realize that, somewhere within us all, there does exist a supreme Self who is eternally at peace. That supreme Self is our true identity, universal and divine. Before you realize this truth, say the Yogis, you will always be in despair, a notion nicely expressed in this exasperated line from the Greek stoic philosopher Epictetus: “You bear God within you, poor wretch, and know it not.”
had to figure out
I should kiss the ground every single day for what I got to do during that exquisite year of freedom, self-exploration, and travel.
You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.
And I thought, “Until I can feel as ecstatic about having a baby as I felt about going to New Zealand to search for a giant squid, I cannot have a baby.
Maybe I didn’t trust my own revelation.
Maybe I didn’t trust my own sunlight.
I honestly don’t know.
All I can say is: I trust it now.

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