There's something to be said for persistence. I find this especially true when I finish a whole entire book like I did this morning. I woke to pouring rain wrapped in a blustery windy storm. It's been a perfect and huge reason to stay put in my cottage all day. Time to read, and plenty of time to make a smoked salmon, green onion omelette for breakfast as I also wait holding my breath before the power goes out. And then there was time to write. Read, eat, write. Repeat. Forever.
Upon rising, with the stormy sky clouding three quartes more of morning light through my seven windows, I lit two candles, burned my white sage, and picked up Anne Lamott's book, "Some Assembly Required" that I've been hoping to finish, and got back in bed to read. New true love: Morning in-bed reading. Who knew?
Truth be told, more so lately I want to be someone who considers herself a "good and prolific reader". I think I've been in denial about being that person. It's like I think I do read a lot, but I do not read as much as I really have always wanted to. I would like to become someone who reads every day, devouring books that I can't get enough of, like eating excellent food with an amazing dessert to complete the meal. Yes, like most of us, I do have a stack of "meaning to read these" next to my bed, and several "half read, gotta get back to finish them" on my bookshelves.
Being most of my bookshelf books are non-fiction of the metaphysical/spiritual text, I find I often dip into them for a spell to gather some soul food, and then move on for another spell into another book. But, the move on part can take a month or a year or so. With my poetry books, I use these as quick-fix soul food, and this I believe is what they are meant to be. A good poem once or twice a month can last me for a solid several months. I call this dosing on poems.
When I do drop into a book, I read fast and absorb stories somewhat viscerally. When the book is really captivating, I become a part of the story and hear the 'voice' of the author and characters in my head long after I put the book down. It's the experience of being a part of the story and that cannot be substituted by anything. Reading also makes me want to write, as when I am so taken by others art, I often want and need to express my own creativity. We are one big artistic expression experiment together after-all aren't we? May we continue to inspire one another.
Being most of my bookshelf books are non-fiction of the metaphysical/spiritual text, I find I often dip into them for a spell to gather some soul food, and then move on for another spell into another book. But, the move on part can take a month or a year or so. With my poetry books, I use these as quick-fix soul food, and this I believe is what they are meant to be. A good poem once or twice a month can last me for a solid several months. I call this dosing on poems.
When I do drop into a book, I read fast and absorb stories somewhat viscerally. When the book is really captivating, I become a part of the story and hear the 'voice' of the author and characters in my head long after I put the book down. It's the experience of being a part of the story and that cannot be substituted by anything. Reading also makes me want to write, as when I am so taken by others art, I often want and need to express my own creativity. We are one big artistic expression experiment together after-all aren't we? May we continue to inspire one another.
In retrospect, some of my resistance in reading a lot was that there was a point in time in my 20's where I thought that if I read too many books, my mind would be too cluttered with other peoples thoughts and ideas about things. In elaboration, I am also one to be sort of skeptical of many others thoughts, and I simply didn't want to have so much of 'other people' swirling in me. I also know myself to be fairly susceptible to suggestion, but would say in the same breath, I am not easily brainwashed by scientific, 'fact based' logic.
I am not saying people are bad or are overall too confused in their thoughts, (maybe weird, but not bad) nor that they don't have some good things to say, but in my humble opinion, overall, much of what humans think is sort of odd, and quite honestly, kinda predictable to me. That could be translated as a form of ADD, or that I'm arrogant, or interpreted that I get bored easily. Those could all be true, but I think it's mostly because I used to feel that I simply needed to keep a pure un-cluttered mind in some way so as to listen to my own self before being lead astray by others ideas. Perhaps this was my own version of self-discipline or some form of my own religion. I admire a pure mind. And, I admire those who can carve a new thought in my mind. I also felt that some people were just readers, and some just writers, but the writers were not required to read, and the readers were not required to write. Case closed.
As I leaned more into my early 30's, I realize that most of our thoughts whether we want them to be or not, are gathered and influenced by other peoples beliefs, opinions, and "facts" anyways. But if we are wise in deciphering what our own truth is, we take what feeds us and spit out the rest. Maybe I just haven't given myself enough of a chance to be opened more in a way that would support my intellectual, emotional and spiritual growth at this time in my life where it seems more and more that the well needs filling.
For this hunger in the past, and even present, I have always stayed close to the philosopher mystical poets because I feel they have a foot in both worlds, have a refreshing perception, and keep me grounded there with them. I would go as far as humbly saying that I consider myself one of them, or at least strive to be refreshing and pure in that way when expressing my creative voice.
For this hunger in the past, and even present, I have always stayed close to the philosopher mystical poets because I feel they have a foot in both worlds, have a refreshing perception, and keep me grounded there with them. I would go as far as humbly saying that I consider myself one of them, or at least strive to be refreshing and pure in that way when expressing my creative voice.
The philosopher/poet comes few and far between. I instantly think of my beloved Rainer Maria Rilke, the late and stunning John O'Donohue, of course David Whyte for his permanence. There's Mary Oliver for her observing depth, and I can't leave out the revolutionary poet Saul Williams too, when I think of this kind of mystical poet. I consistently find them lifting me out of times of inner complacency of thought, and easefully dipping me into a place where there is that deeper sound and slowed soul time within me. They bring me to the place of accessing that richness of truer meaning of our lives that I feel in our increasingly technological world culture, seems to want to disengage and numb us to. These poetic mystics share that meaning of the natural world, the inner landscapes of corporal existentialism, breathtaking beauty, and beyond all of that, what I feel is our real spiritual thread of the mysterious and very present divinity that connects us to ourselves and others.
Sometimes I have even thought that I don't really know what I would do, nor how I would feel or be within myself in this ever intense world without these word smiths that have and continue to carve that resonance of what I consider a 'purity of thought' in me. They assist me in keeping close to that individual and shared heartbeat. I feel blessed by each of them for what they offer of their soul through their written and spoken words. This remembrance is essential to our survival.
I have also just landed upon Terry Tempest Williams work, and oh my my my, have I found yet another blessing! She is something of a epiphany to me. In opening her book "When Women Were Birds", I literally felt her words alive and awaken in me something so true that I was kind of blown away. I realized again the power of a unique and authentic written voice. In this specific book, she speaks about voice so potently, as she observes her own and the women of her lineage as well. It's like witnessing a completely secret world that only she knows exactly how to articulate. Her brilliance is blatant.
In my current obsession, I am actually moved to find her in person, and hopefully without too much intrusion, arrive at her door, bring her a pot of black-black tea with cream, and some dark purple-blue Iris's in a mason jar. Then, in my now obvious fantasy, we would sit down on what I imagine would be a very cozy couch, or at the big wooden table I am certain she has in the open light of the dining room, and have a good thorough chat about it all. Just all of it. I would, without a doubt, let her thoughts infuse me, and I would not be so concerned about being brainwashed. In the morning, I'll Google her and see what her schedule is, and drop her a note about me bringing her hot tea and flowers.
Yes, I am fully ready to be more inspired this next cycle of a year by the truth seekers and the wisdom keepers. The truth of parts of me forgotten, the truth of knowing that we are weaved together by stories, thoughts and feelings that can't always be experienced and shared in the outer world. It's the wisdom of the world from the inside of things when they come out through this collective story within and between pages. Ink typed in symbols of font called words on paper...... the texture and sound of pages being turned......And most of all the imagination activated at full force. May this never become a lost art.
I am acutely aware I have just learned to read for the first time......
Sometimes I have even thought that I don't really know what I would do, nor how I would feel or be within myself in this ever intense world without these word smiths that have and continue to carve that resonance of what I consider a 'purity of thought' in me. They assist me in keeping close to that individual and shared heartbeat. I feel blessed by each of them for what they offer of their soul through their written and spoken words. This remembrance is essential to our survival.
I have also just landed upon Terry Tempest Williams work, and oh my my my, have I found yet another blessing! She is something of a epiphany to me. In opening her book "When Women Were Birds", I literally felt her words alive and awaken in me something so true that I was kind of blown away. I realized again the power of a unique and authentic written voice. In this specific book, she speaks about voice so potently, as she observes her own and the women of her lineage as well. It's like witnessing a completely secret world that only she knows exactly how to articulate. Her brilliance is blatant.
In my current obsession, I am actually moved to find her in person, and hopefully without too much intrusion, arrive at her door, bring her a pot of black-black tea with cream, and some dark purple-blue Iris's in a mason jar. Then, in my now obvious fantasy, we would sit down on what I imagine would be a very cozy couch, or at the big wooden table I am certain she has in the open light of the dining room, and have a good thorough chat about it all. Just all of it. I would, without a doubt, let her thoughts infuse me, and I would not be so concerned about being brainwashed. In the morning, I'll Google her and see what her schedule is, and drop her a note about me bringing her hot tea and flowers.
Yes, I am fully ready to be more inspired this next cycle of a year by the truth seekers and the wisdom keepers. The truth of parts of me forgotten, the truth of knowing that we are weaved together by stories, thoughts and feelings that can't always be experienced and shared in the outer world. It's the wisdom of the world from the inside of things when they come out through this collective story within and between pages. Ink typed in symbols of font called words on paper...... the texture and sound of pages being turned......And most of all the imagination activated at full force. May this never become a lost art.
I am acutely aware I have just learned to read for the first time......
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