I thought now might be a good time to look back on that life- and soul-altering experience The Donk had the last time she went to the ashram, when she returned braying about what an incredible journey it had been, how she let God in, let it unfold, forgave herself, had a profound spiritual reawakening, stopped beating herself up, heard the Lord, and then, within a week of her return, was the same mentalcase she’d always been, pulling all-nighters and obsessing over pink pouffy dresses and pelting it up and boasting about all her many “big meetings” and “pilots” and announcing with great fanfare she was moving to L.A.
First, some context. A couple of months earlier, in March, she’d been dumped yet again by Prom King, the guy who failed to read enough books and who she claimed broke her heart and caused a mental breakdown even though a week before they broke up she was spewing about “The One That Got Away,” aka REDACTED NO. 1.
What if, indeed …
And poor REDACTED NO. 1. Dumped by Prom King, Donkey resurrected her obsession with him, and started posting frequently about him and how in LOVE they once were, they had even gone ring-shopping, bunnies (a total fabrication — they had dated sporadically and were never exclusive). And by people, I mean REDACTED’s fiancee, because that’s who the posts were directed at.
On April 29, she wrote a stomach-churning post about how she’d CHANGED, people. She was a much better person now! She was aware of her core values!
The truth is, I am both more sure of who I am and more lost than I have ever been. The irony of this dichotomy does not escape me. I am more honest, more trustworthy, more respectful, more conscious of my core values, than I have EVER been. I think a lot about being a good person, about what that means, about how I can contribute to other people’s happiness. But that’s where I get lost. I am NOT sure what the best way for me to do that is … yet.
REDACTED finally responded angrily, telling her once and for all to back off and stop blogging about him.
Hours later, after getting his message, she sent this one to his fiancee because his “e-mail isn’t working.” Because true love and marriage and weddings are sacred, bunnies! “The Hangover” was a terrible movie whose writer should be “jailed” because the groom almost missed his wedding to a pretty brunette girl in a pretty wedding dress, but it’s TOTALLY OK to e-mail someone’s fiancee to allege that her husband-to-be used to fuck around on her.
Ten days after this drama, Donkey fled to the ashram.
Here’s a snippet of what she wrote while there:
I don’t really know how to begin to describe what’s happened in words. It will probably take me weeks, if not months, to process this. But to say I found what I was looking for would be an enormous understatement.
I am peaceful, almost euphoric in my contentment for the first time in a very, very long time. It’s not just the three hours of meditation and chanting daily, or the four hours of hatha yoga, or the long nature walks I take, or the incredible home cooked vegetarian food that I dream about at night or the interminable stretches of time I spend just sitting outside in the bright sunshine (like I am now) and thinking, or the half dozen books I’ve read since I got here … it’s just this all-encompassing feeling of love which resonates in this place, and now, within me. I feel strong here. I feel whole. And yes, I feel very, very close to God.
My goal in the next ten days is to figure out how I can take this feeling – this calm, this peace – home to Manhattan with me. I don’t know the answer to that yet, but, like everything else I’ve learned in my short time here, I know that it will come to me. It will work itself out, if I just let go. If I let it unfold. 🙂
She left the ashram. The post never came. But there was this touching dispatch about just how much inner peace the ashram had brought the donkey:
You know, after I came back from the ashram, I had a pretty severe reaction to my return to ‘normal’ life. I was fairly angry (for seemingly no reason), I found myself lapsing into pettiness and jealousy (which I usually tend to avoid), I wanted to lash out at everyone and everything.”
And then she barely mentioned the ashram again until she ran off to it again last week. Because that’s what ashrams are for, thanks to Elizabeth Gilbert — a refuge for a bunch of self-obsessed, man-crazy lunatics who want to lose some weight while they lick their latest, largely self-inflicted wounds.