Reading at the Seaside - PART 1

Being able to drive down to the beach in less than 5 minutes is a spectacular privilege. If you’ve been favored for all your life with something this remarkable, it’s difficult to readily recognize its virtue unless you deliberately take a moment to acknowledge it.

I’m not much of a reader. I used to be, but of late it has become increasingly difficult for a book to hold my attention. A good while back, I started reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir called Eat, Pray, Love to see what all the hype was about. 2 days and 40 pages later, I quit reading it.

I found it flavorless and could neither identify with nor tolerate the author and her excessive complaints, baggage and all-round unhappiness. My hasty verdict was that this was yet another book about another unhappy woman on another endless quest of self discovery and true love. The cliché was unbearable and what peeved me the most was how excessively true it was of real woman. And so, I renounced it for what I thought was going to be perpetuity.

Yesterday, during lunch, I drove to the beach, sat there, and started reading Eat, Pray, Love…for the second time.
I did the same today...I think I’m going to make a habit of this beach trip…Its too wonderful not to do.

Now there’s 2 reasons why I picked up this book again, the 1^st being less influential than the 2^nd.
1... A movie based on the book has been made and too much of the world has waited with bated breath for the release. ..They’ve roped me in.

2... Last year I watched a TED Talk presented by Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity and it was one of the most memorable of the many, many TED Talks that I have watched. (If you don’t know what a TED Talk is or you haven’t watched her one, go, find it now, else you will miss out on something great my friend) She offered up fascinating concepts in a nearly stand-up comedic style and I was genuinely impressed. I’m not sure if she realized it, but from the essence of her talk sprang the very divine genius which she spoke of and revealed itself through her, making the performance poetic in its completeness. The resounding response from her audience must certainly have hinted at it. So now, fortified with a newfound reverence for a misjudged artist, I will endeavor to read Eat, Pray, Love once more, this time with added effect from several breath-taking beach trips and an open mind. I’ll let you know how it went.