Flowers in the Desert

I spent the last two days of 2010 reading. For me,  reading is the best way to slow down and begin a period of introspection.

Recommended by my dear friend, Mercedes, I chose "The Turquoise Ledge: A Memoir" because I longed for the warm sun of the desert and I was looking for a way to quiet my mind after the holiday rush and focus on my goals for the coming new year.

Sometimes the best way to find clarity or a solution is to literally walk away. I walked with Silko as she spoke about her thirty years in the Tucson desert, feeling blessed to be there and how she made friends with the rattlesnakes, pack rats and bees understanding the tenuous balance that existed between the wild and not so wild. I listened as she worried about the approaching development and destruction of the desert by bulldozers, painting small white crosses on boulders to ward off Machine Man like she had seen in the petroglyphs left on the boulders by the ancient people centuries earlier. I cried when the owls raided her aviary and killed her beloved macaws.

Silko explores the sacred and mystical quality of turquoise.

"When I was a child, people at Laguna and people in Spanish-speaking villages nearby used to paint the doors and window frames bright turquoise blue to keep away witches. The Spanish-speaking people used to save the bright blue stamps that sealed the Bull Durham tobacco bags, and whenever they had headaches they wore the bright blue stamps on their foreheads to stop the pain."

Thrilled whenever a piece of turquoise appeared on the trail, she returns home and places the new found treasure on her desk among the other treasures, writing or painting about that particular piece of turquoise and where she had found it.

With the recent shootings in Tucson, I am recalling the peace I felt as 'walked' with Leslie and the strength I get whenever I am in this part of the country, envisioning bits of turquoise being left by the ancient people for those harmed and lost as well as their families in the hopes that their pain will be eased and the healing will begin.

The Art of Story

It was a dark and stormy night and all the Indians were gathered around the campfire. The Chief stood up and said, "Neewah, tell us a story." And this is the story that Neewah told, "It was a dark and stormy night and all the Indians were gathered around the campfire. The Chief stood up and said..."

And so it goes. That was a story Mr. Jackson's Dad told him, his sisters and their friends as they sat in their dark backyard wide eyed waiting for the next move Neewah would make...the older kids knowing the punchline watching for the younger kids' reaction. The elder Jackson setting the mood and telling the story to deliver the delight that resulted. Laughter and the joy of sharing is one of the components for a good story.

I love stories. I remember the first time I was able to string together a plot more complex than "See Jane run after Spot." I was hooked and wouldn't put the book down until the last page was turned. My breath exhaling as I finally knew the end, how it all worked out and my mind whirling at the possibilities.

Despite having a bit of the Irish in me, I never could tell a story without first writing it and even then, it's best if the reader or someone else takes over in the telling. No matter how hard I've tried, the telling, the punchline always gets lost because in the telling I am experiencing simultaneously the story and the possibilities of what might be. I laugh, cry and get angry all the while wondering where it is all going. 

So for me, the telling must be done by filling the blank page and giving my voice to the characters in the story and ultimately, the reader.

And so it goes...it was a dark and stormy night....

Meaning

Books are amazing in their ability to educate and transport. A truly gratifying experience is when I return to the same book and gain a different meaning or gift from that time spent re-turning the pages. I can't predict when I will pick up a book I've read, because there are so many to be read.

I am uncertain as to why I chose to pick up Viktor Frankl's book, Man's Search for Meaning again. Perhaps, it was because I knew I would not have time for anything but work and needed some inspiration to remind me of my higher pursuits, that being time for writing and creativity or maybe, it was that I am a time in my life where I am thinking about where I am I going? Not certain,but I am better for having pulled it off the shelf.

Mr. Frankl was neurologist, a psychologist and a survivor of the Holocaust. When I first read Mr. Frankl's book I was 19 and it was part of a literature course syllabus. My focus at that time was his survival of the Holocaust and his ability to overcome the loss of his parents, his wife and their unborn child. At 19, the thought of losing everything and everyone was incomprehensible. When he wrote this book, he was trying to regain the life and book he had lost before the camps. Frankl was in four. With his writing, he was very concerned about mentioning the Holocaust and his experiences, not wanting it to be about his singular experience but rather all who had survived. Frankl, however, realized without this discussion he could not make clear his ultimate belief about man's ability to find meaning in life's existence.

So, now some thirty years later, I understand it is about the why. Frankl believed and counseled people about the why we survive and how. It is because we have a goal, a hope and therefore, can survive anything once we recognize that one thing. It could be as simple as a flower in a meadow, work that is important, family,an interest in art or music.

At a particularly dark time in my life, I told a dear friend who questioned my state, "I would find happiness anywhere." Meaning whatever life sent me I somehow found a way to see a flower in the meadow or the kindness in another soul's heart. I have and never will let negativity grab hold of me. I shake and fight it off, keeping my eye on the wonder of life, whether it be Mr. Jackson, my family, my friends, Max or just a flower in the field.

Perhaps, I didn't miss Frankl's point after all. My hope going forward is the ability to connect and create with an understanding of the past and an eye on the future.

Committed

Once I find a writer, who is able to capture my imagination, I feel compelled to read their next book.So despite the reviews, which I typically ignore anyhow, I read Elizabeth Gilbert's "Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage". The genesis for the book came to be when Ms. Gilbert's fiance, Felipe, Brazilian born and an Australian citizen was escorted away at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport by Immigration officers as she watched. Felipe was the man we read about in her memoir, Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia. The man she allowed herself to love after travelling continents trying to understand why she could not love. It was an amazing story and journey.

With Felipe's deportation and the realization that the only way they could continue their life together was to get married, this latest book discusses the trials and history of marriage. Gilbert sums up her trepidation by opening her discussion of the issue with a Polish adage "Before going to war, say one prayer. Before going to sea, say two prayers. Before getting married, say three." stating that she intends to pray all year. With this she begins to weave the story of their journey to marriage with a remarkable dissertation of the history and the cultural aspects of marriage.

Having gone through a difficult divorce and recently married, I was saddened but not confused by her fear and outright dislike for the institution of marriage. So as I read, I gave her kudos for excellent research, writing and finally, applauded her marriage to Felipe. This book was a journey that was perhaps, more personal than the one in which we came to know her. With her research, she revealed elements of herself, that we didn't see in the last book. She is a magnificent writer and storyteller. I look forward to reading more now that she is released from "I do."

Additional Elizabeth Gilbert reading:

Stern Men: A Novel

Pilgrims

The Last American Man

Open

"Even if it's not your ideal life, you can always choose it. No matter what your life is, choosing it changes everything."
Andre Agassi

I spent my early twenties watching tennis. Evert, Conners, McEnroe and Borg were my introduction to a game that I came to love. The discipline, excitement and the sheer drama of each player and their resulting matches made certain that I planned my 4th of July and Labor Day weekends around Wimbledon and the US Open. Despite my best efforts, my ability to play the game was limited largely due to this unknown skill called eye-hand coordination. Alas, I grew up before Title IX and never really grasped the idea of hitting a ball with a bat or a ball with anything for that matter though I tried. So I watched the game and the battles all the while witnessing these amazing athletes along with this upstart Agassi as he showed up to play wearing something other than white at Wimbledon and looking like Bonjovi with a tennis racket. Too quickly, they all faded away and I was left to watch how Agassi fought to stay in the game. Suddenly he had my attention.

So it was not only because of the love of tennis that I picked up Andre Agassi's book, "Open: An Autobiography", but because of his determination and his willingness to go to battle in spite of the odds and the better athletes in his path. I watched him as he reinvented himself through training and sheer resolve win.

But wait, this is not only a story about an athlete but also about a man trying to find himself. A journey. The ability to realize one's potential in spite of the day to day responsibilities, excel and find happiness. Sound familiar?

Flash 55-Books

“No more than five”, the librarian said, scanning her card. She runs home, the leaves scurrying along side, thinking about the books left behind. New places, words and faces all within her reach, five books at a time. Climbing the stairs, her shoulder aches under the weight. She hears the pages whispering in her ear.

Flash Fiction--a story in 55 words---for more see the g-man!

A Wrinkle in Time-Madeleine L'Engle

When I posted the badge regarding banned books I wasn't quite sure who I would write about. You see, there are so many. I was shocked and somewhat embarrassed by the fact that I hadn't risen up, given the fact that I had read so many of them and not realized that they were banned. I was an English Major !!! I didn't know, so I read and talked about the books I was reading. So in a way, I did my part. Handing a book to a friend and saying, "you must read this."

So from that perspective, I chose a book that I received one Christmas as young girl, that captivated and transported me to a new place. Why? Madeleine L'Engle's book not only had a female main character that is the oldest sibling who is not exactly what she wishes to be but is also missing a father and just a little too smart for her age. Reading this book set my mind on fire and addressed so many questions in my mind. It was banned because it talks about the age of the universe and therefore, questioned religion. I didn't see it then and chances are, when I read it again, I won't see it. It is about the characters, Meg and her brother, Charles and their ability to succeed against all odds,

This is a book I have given to every middle aged child I know. Further, as I sent this book to my favorite children,  I noticed that  Madeleine L'Engle began a series called The Crosswicks Journals and twenty years later, I read her books again. I found hope, solace and possibility in her writing. I have pulled all of her books from my shelves and will read them again knowing that her words will bring me to a place I want to be.

Look at your book shelf and speak about those books you love---re-read those books you love and live.

National Literacy Day-September 8th

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. -Margaret Mead

The ability to string together a few letters, understand a word and then a few more words to become a sentence, "See Spot run." was a noteworthy moment in my life. From that point on, I devoured what ever book was put within my reach. Like breathing, reading became a necessary function that enabled me to imagine places and people that were outside my world. The ability to read and as a result, spell and write, set my mind on fire and made the possibilities endless.

I owe much of my success and happiness to the ability to read--it built foundations of understanding,taught compassion, fueled dreams and offered a place of contemplation. Now more than ever I believe that education, not just in the US, but throughout the world, is the answer to many of our concerns.

What can we each do to help make this happen?--here's an example--one small step..imagine the possiblities.