I saw the movie Eat, Pray, Love before heading back to Italy, and oh was it satisfying to see places that I'd actually been to. Just in Italy, but still, I felt accomplished. Now this is my kind of movie, and when I saw the book a week ago on the book-share shelf of a wine store (excellent inexpensive wine) by the square where I currently live (Pza Le Susa) and it was in English, well I just had to borrow it. The man who owns the shop likes to practice his English and when I return the book, along with a few offerings of my own for the share shelf, I imagine we'll pick up where we left off on our conversation about the horrors of American pop music and the downward descent of most of the music scene in general. I tentatively shared my YouTube page (youtube.com/allegrafletcher), and I hope (but honestly and conceitedly I'm certain), that he'll have a different opinion of my contributions to the music scene.
Anyway, it was when we were wrapping up our conversation that I spied the aforementioned novel and proceeded to squeal like a Belieber who just spotted Bieber. Over the next week I read the book in snatches, squeezing it in between all the other things I had to do. I feel though that I haven't been merely reading this book. I think I'm subconsciously trying to meld myself into it.
I found myself pondering, "Why shouldn't I take more pleasure in some of the more enjoyable aspects of Italian food and culture? Why not have a second helping?"
I even dusted off my yoga mat. "Why not sit and contemplate on the Word of God with my audio Bible playing softly in the morning light? And who says I can't have a good stretch and dance time while worship music plays afterward?"
It's the love part of the book I get stuck at. While I could modify the whole meditating in India bit to suit my spiritual needs and convictions, I find I can't simulate a Bali-esque experience in the middle of Milan. I do happen to know a Felipe (who looks remarkably like a younger version of the actor who plays Felipe in the movie and who is therefore quite handsome), but I somehow doubt that's gonna happen. When he does things like hold my wrist for an unsuitable amount of time in church (thereby ruining hopes with other men and raising unnecessary speculation) and talks about taking my pulse (or something like that. wasn't exactly focused...) I remind myself that he is simply unaware of his charming good looks (as if...) and is just too man-stupid to understand that you don't do things like that with single women who are most decidedly not called to celibacy. Especially if you're not going to follow up and deliver the goods.
Though perhaps this whole love thing is closer than I think. This Tuesday, in what I can only describe as a rather Ketut-like moment in this context, a friend of mine told me he felt certain that soon some romance was going to come my way. Just in case you're wondering, he's engaged and didn't mean himself. But who could it possibly be, I wonder? And how soon is soon? Like Liz, I have my fair share of control issues. But these past few weeks of bliss, this letting go and letting God, makes it much easier not to know. I'll just keep swimming, just keep swimming, and I'll bump into the right fish when the time is right. No sooner, no later. Juuuuuust right.