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  1. Live and Let Live, Love and Let Go – For Loving is Freedom!
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  3. Live and Let Live, Love and Let Go – For Loving is Freedom!
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I cried all day, every day. I cried before school; during math, history, and English classes; and after school working as a checkout girl at the Tom Thumb grocery store. The bags under my eyes were so big I could have packed them and gone on vacation. I literally begged Ben to take me back, in between sobs, sitting in his banana yellow Cutlass Supreme, where our hand-holding began. I told him I couldn't live without him, and I meant it. He was very sweet when he told me he was sorry, it was over.

And to top it off, my tragedy played out the same week of cheerleading tryouts, which in Texas is tantamount to the Olympic Trials with pom-poms. To add salt to the already open wound, I didn't make the cheerleading team. It was Rejection with a capital R. Fortunately, no one in my Shakespearean tragedy died. But it felt like death at the time. Eventually, I replaced the Shakespearean tragedy with a Hollywood movie, "love at first sight" moment that I sometimes, even to this day, find hard to believe. Sixteen years ago I met my husband, Jason, in a smoky, dimly lit bar thanks to an introduction by Paul Rudd, who was just starting his acting career.

Jason had just returned from a summer at Oxford University where he studied classical theater with the Juilliard School, and Jason and Paul became close friends. Paul convinced Jason to make the move from New York to Los Angeles to pursue acting and he had been in Los Angeles exactly two weeks the night I met him.

Jason was a brooding artist, handsome, and he was fluent in French. I thought he was out of my league, not just because of the sexy foreign language thing, not to mention the Oxford thing, but because I didn't believe at the time that I might actually fall in love with someone who would not only love me back but catch me when I fell and give me a hand so that I could get up. Up until meeting Jason, I kept trying to engage in love to please the other person.

Live and Let Live, Love and Let Go – For Loving is Freedom!

After a particularly one-sided romance with a much older man who gave me a jar of Dijon mustard for my twenty-third birthday, and the period of celibacy and selfsearching that ensued, by my twenty-fifth birthday I was ready to be in a relationship again. My dear friend and roommate, Jill, and I did an improvised "rain dance" in our kitchen, only we wanted it to rain boyfriends for each of us. We were very specific with our wishes: the guys had to be romantic, generous, enlightened, mature, smart, respectful, and nice. Which, at the time, seemed like a tall order, considering that my last boyfriend, the Dijon-giver, broke up with me on Valentine's Day.

Within a week after that dance, I walked into that smoky bar with a sense of peace and joy, and the proverbial lightning strike happened the moment I met Jason. I remember saying to Jill, "I'm going to marry that guy," like it was yesterday. The words flew out of my mouth as easy as "I'll have another drink. It was a feeling that was born out of a primal instinct, a knowledge that the potential for love was in the room and with my potential life partner.

Jason and I didn't rush into a wedding, by any stretch. It took us about eight years, and a lot of back-and-forth, to finally make that commitment. By that point, all my years as a brides- maid, standing in taffeta, dreaming of the day where I would hear Corinthians, felt like someone else's life rather than my own. That girl was long gone, and this new L. The truth was, I was terrified to commit on that level, on a government level, on a level that if I ever wanted to get out, I would need a lawyer, not just some cash in the bank and my car.

But the big day arrived, and I have a picture from it that I adore. The image is of my father walking behind me holding my gorgeous Vera Wang gown that my sister, Cindy, so generously bought for me, so that it wouldn't drag in the dirt. It was an outdoor wedding, at a friend's estate in the Hollywood Hills, and the aisle consisted of a dirt path surrounded by ominous, large, prehistoric cacti.

In the photograph it looks as though I am running and my dad is pushing me down the makeshift aisle, because if I take my time, I might change my mind.


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My mouth is making an O shape, and the caption, if there was one, would read: "Oh shit, I can't believe I'm doing this. As we stood in the middle of a big circle of our friends with a Sikh guru and beloved friend as our officiant and minister, we included Jewish prayers, Native American rituals, and the Beatles' "In My Life" played on an aluminum cello bellowing across the canyon. I framed that picture of me and my dad, and it sits on my nightstand to remind me of how far I've come; that my fear of losing my freedom or my identity was ultimately just a feeling, and that I would have never married Jason if losing either one was going to be part of the deal.

The truth is I feel more liberated in this partnership than I did out of it. It was a beautiful day, and while we didn't read from Corinthians, it was absolutely divine. Four years after our wedding day, I codirected and wrote a short film about love and longevity in a marriage. In the script, Kris Kristofferson, who plays the husband, is caring for his dying wife in an E. When asked by a young nurse played by Robin Wright what the secret to love was, he says, "Stay in the room," which accounts for the theme of the film and speaks to the idea of not leaving when things get really difficult and when things don't come easy.

That life lesson was imparted to me from a beloved therapist to many of my friends, and in turn to me through them, and we have used it throughout the years whether we are talking about our friendships or our romantic relationships. By staying in the room there won't always be lightning strikes, although those still happen, but more like small fires that continue to burn if they are stoked.


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  8. My life with Jason is the warm glowing fire that can peak with vibrant flames—and we have stayed in the room together when the oxygen was thin and breathing was difficult. We've managed to emerge stronger through it all, build a home, rescue and raise dogs, go through midlife crises, travel the world, and laugh until our cheeks hurt. And it's in this relationship and the laughter and the litter that I have learned more about love than anything else in my life.

    And the most profound selflove lesson that I have learned is that I am enough. When I set out to collect stories about love, I was narrowly focused on the Eros brand of love stories; the romance, the passion, the humor, and the redemptions. Not the Shakespearean kind per se, more the Sex and the City kind. However, along the way the collection became so much richer and deeper, thanks to the contributors' willingness and courage to look the topic in the face and then look within themselves to find their strongest examples of it.

    Each woman in this book has her own love story that is up close and personal. The essays are reflections of joy and suffering from love, and within those layers, there are gems of wisdom and precious self-realizations that need to be shared. They are pictures of vulnerability, wickedly funny, and one hundred percent raw, and they have added to the long narrative of love.

    In short, the women in this book are truly awe-inspiring. I love each and every one of them.

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    My journey has taken me from the Bible to the Beatles, Eros to happily ever after, and while I still have a lot to learn on the topic of love, I do know this: It is messy, it is heartbreaking, and God, is it worth it. It is my wish that if you allow the layers, the laughter, and the litter of love to envelop you, then you will not only have loved but you will have truly and fully lived. All rights reserved. Play Handout. Appeals court hands Trump a victory, dismisses lawsuit involving his DC hotel. Sign In Don't have an account? Start a Wiki. You must enable javascript to view this page. This is a requirement of our licensing agreement with music Gracenote.

    Oh, the snot has caked against my pants It has turned into crystal There's a bluebird sitting on a branch I guess I'll take my pistol I've got it in my hand Because he's on my land And so the story ended Do you know it oh so well Well, should you need, I'll tell you The end-end-end-end-end-end-end-end and Yes, I've seen you sitting on the couch I recognize your artillery I have seen you many times before Once when I was an Indian And I was on my land Why can't you understand?

    Live and Let Live, Love and Let Go – For Loving is Freedom!

    And so the story ended Do you know it, oh so well Well, should you need I'll tell you The end-end-end-end-end-end-end-end and Served my time Served it well You made my soul a cell Write the rules In the sky But ask your leaders Why? William James. Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless. The attitude is we live and let live. This is actually an amazing change in values in a rather short time and it's an example of freedom from religion.

    Tom Wolfe. We have to live and let live in order to create what we are. Albert Camus. My core beliefs revolve around the idea that we should live to the best of our abilities-we should live and let live.

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    When you were young, and your heart, was an open book. You used to say, live and let live.

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    Paul Mccartney. A man who flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a shortcut to meet it. Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. Henry David Thoreau. Live as if your were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. Mahatma Gandhi. James Dean. Be led by your dreams. Ralph Waldo Emerson.


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    Eventually all things fall into place.