Heartbreak isn't a requirement

Several years ago, I swooned through the book Under the Tuscan Sun. After studying in Italy my junior year abroad, I had always fantasized about returning and renting a villa somewhere in the hills. The story of the American woman who actually did so was poetic - even if she ended up in Italy as a casualty of a failed marriage.

Two years ago, I devoured Eat Pray Love. Elizabeth Gilbert's prose still linger...a delicious blend of melancholy, hope and profound vulnerability. I laughed and cried through her book. Stopped women in airports and on the Metra in a common nod of recognition. At times during her narrative, I hoped she would reunite with her husband and provide the happy ending that was promised in my early days watching the annual Rodgers & Hammerstein rendition of Cinderella. Alas, she did not and her wrenching days of grief and painful solitude fueled a best seller. Today - appropriately on Valentine's Day - I'm just about finished with what now feels like a triology. The current woman-gets-dumped-travels overseas-eats fantastic pasta-has passionate sex with exotic strangers-and finds themselves is called Tales of a Female Nomad. In this memoir, the hot sex hasn't happened, but Rita starts out the book ending her marriage and that's the kick in the tush to go on the road for several years. She does her fair share of life tasting - in this case in Mexico while both other break-ups led to Italy. I'm loving Rita's story...but I found myself with the following observation/question:

Do middle-aged [defined very loosely] women need to be abandoned and heartbroken - or endure infidelity - to go onto to discover themselves, eat marvelous food, travel, find real intimacy with strangers? Must we first suffer in order to celebrate?

I think not.

In fact, I'm having a combo plate right now. Sort of an Under the Gisborne Sun/Wine Walk, Write Tale of a Female Still Happily Married For Hire Consultant.

I suppose I was somewhat "dumped" by our economy as no doubt part of my enlightenment thus far is due to not working every waking minute. However, I am feeling a bit rebellious and cranky about these stories that might leave us with the impression that we need to have our hearts broken to have our lives transform.

I suppose it is relatively easy for me to take this partial pot shot or at least draw a fragile conclusion based on the plot of these three books. For starters, I loved all three novels. Couldn't put them down. A chord was struck. My "aha" is that it is possible for women [in particular] to find greater joy, intimacy and meaning with a less toxic and devestating wake-up call. My alarm clock happened to be moving to a remote beach town half way around the world with lots of time on my hands and a desire to grow some roots. Fast.

My point is, I suppose, that I can and will take this experience with me. The newness. The "blank canvass." The curiosity and eagerness. The unabashed party crashing in an effort to create a job or role for myself.

And you can do this as well. Whether in Gisborne or just down the street.