Walking in the blazing morning sun
thinking about decisions and life changes,
Crow flys past, closely.
I look up as I usually do,
to acknowledge his presence.
I walk, bag in hand, books, library.
Not a few steps--and wings--the graceful thrust echoes
upon the closest part of my hearing, as though
If I moved but one inch, his wings
would have scraped my cheek.
I move my head after he passes.
He flies up to the top of the traffic light.
This is the closest Crow has ever come to me.
I look up, adjust my gaze upon him,
look up with reverence and awe--
Indescribable moisture wells;
the beating of my heart in tune
with something from the great beyond.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Intersecting Moments
There are many intersecting moments that I am feeling inside and the moments are whizzing at such a fast pace that I don’t feel that they are able to properly come out of their space of twirling air. I appreciate when I open up to the universe and I feel and receive gentle nudges both through small happenstances and clues that present themselves; and also through dreams. Sometimes it's difficult to pin point just which moment occurred first or exactly when they intersected and in a way all that matters is somehow these blinks came together.
It began almost two weeks ago. It’s been much slower at work and as I’ve stated and keep giving thanks for, I am grateful to have a job. That it’s slow right now is temporary. But it was the talk I had with the boss and I wanted to be honest to let him know that it was difficult for me during these slow times—difficult to fill the hours with a steady workflow and since I’m an hourly employee, I feel the diminished hours too. I told him that as in the past, I might try to see if there are other part-time opportunities out there, so that I can both keep my current job and find another job to supplement. As I sat there, I realized and told him, it’s really about feeling productive and in my mind I thought—and useful.
This may likely be the slowest of our slow periods yet. I think the largest obstacle for me and one that I believe was hitting home with me through reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged is in feeling that I am slipping into mediocrity and non-usefulness. When I had the talk with the boss a couple of weeks ago, that is when I decided that because I may have a little more time to use, I was going to try to put it to good use by finding a volunteer opportunity. I’ve always had a soft spot for seniors so when I did a search on the web, I found a volunteer website that searched by zip code. As I looked through the listings I found one that I knew I would be doing one day. I started that process and awaited an email to find out the next steps. I will be a “friendly visitor” to a senior through Meals on Wheels and Senior Outreach Services. The program asks for a 1 hour per week commitment for a 6-month period. I’m excited and nervous because it will be something new for me. The program matches you with a senior who has similar interests as you do. This new experience has brought me to a book that I found through Kindle, then checked it out through the library because they happened to have it. It’s called How to Say it to Seniors: Closing the Communication Gap with our Elders by David Solie, M.S., P.A.
From the short bit I’ve read so far, what I can tell I’m going to appreciate about reading this book is hearing the author’s perspective on the developmental stages of our elders. I remember how my grandparents both had different stories they shared—stories that they would repeat. I listened and as far as I recall, I never said, “You told me that already, grandma.” There were frustrations with my grandfather, but luckily, I think I only corrected him once and after that, I just allowed him to believe what he needed to believe and worked with it as best I could, going along in most cases. My grandfather did end up developing Alzheimer’s, while my grandmother did not. My grandfather regressed into a childlike manner; my grandmother did not. It was difficult and sad at times to watch the deterioration and I saw how my uncle was able to keep everyone’s spirits lifted with his natural sense of humor. My uncle is now 81, but he is still able to maintain his independence and goes out and about. I’m thankful for that. I hope that I will return to this blog with reflections about the book, How to Say it to Seniors, to share what I recall from my own experiences and explore what seems true.
When I am paired with my senior friend, I will offer a smile and allow them to lead the way—of how we will spend our hour and we’ll take it from there. When I visit with my uncle, I mostly listen; I also ask questions and we laugh.
I admire that which I do not hold within myself. Ayn Rand’s character Dagny inspires me, not to be as harsh as she can be—but to find within myself the self-confidence that I sometimes have, but mostly don’t. It could be called something else. I know that it’s been with me every since I can remember. I reach a certain point and then I stop. The only constant is writing. I always keep writing near. An example that comes to mind is when I was going to complete an accounting certificate through DVC years ago. In 2001 I took Principles of Accounting and I passed, but I didn’t do great. I learned some bookkeeping on the job during this time. In 2007 I thought I would try to earn an accounting certificate and all the while I would be sure if I was taking an accounting or business course, I was also taking an English or writing course to balance it out with something I loved and wanted more of. Still in 2007, Intermediate Accounting wasn’t going too well. I dropped too late, ending up with an “F” on my transcript. The concepts covered in Intermediate Accounting were not wrapping around my head. I knew that what I really wanted to do was to gain the skills to become a proficient bookkeeper, not an accountant. But, alas, self-confidence, lack of internal motivation in that direction put that on hold. Today in my current job, I am able to do light bookkeeping, but I do not do the full cycle that a full-charge bookkeeper would perform. Inside I know I can do it, with a few learnings along the way. However, it’s that self-confidence—it’s that feeling of not wanting to be found in a situation and not knowing the answer. I admire those with an entrepreneurial spirit. They dig right in whether they know something or not; they are resourceful and learn along the way. I’m resourceful. What I lack is something else. It’s a fear of not knowing.
The boss has been on vacation and it’s given me time to do some clutter cleaning at work and thinking. I came across some materials that I had printed out some time ago on becoming proficient in QuickBooks; I also found some descriptions of what a full-charge bookkeeper does and I saw the gaps in my knowledge base. Then yesterday my co-worker was working on something and made a comment about how the bookkeeper for a particular client did not code certain things properly and he was surprised that she didn’t seem to know. I had recalled from my accounting classes, when he told me the example, that it wouldn’t have gone where she put it and I knew where it would go instead. We were done with our conversation and I thought I could do this!
I hopped on the computer and did a search in the adult education brochures online. There were two accounting classes that started the following day, which is today. Often classes are already full. I called to inquire about availability. There was space. The next question was do I start anew and take their version of accounting I again or go to accounting II. It felt like only a few years ago that I took level I, but when I looked online at my transcripts, that’s when I saw that it was all the way back in 2001. Because the nature of my work now is mostly administrative, I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on the whole process from start to finish again. Tonight will be my first class. It feels good. I’m also enrolled in the short story writing class for the Fall semester and who knows—by then I might also enroll in the accounting levels II/III thorough adult education. I figure that by the time I meet with my boss for my annual review coming up, I will have a better idea of how I can use my bookkeeping skills more, whether it is with him or by being an independent contractor and going out and marketing myself—once I gain more experience and knowledge. Bookkeeping itself is not difficult and QuickBooks and other computerized programs make the task easy. However, if one doesn’t have a solid understanding of how the debits and credits work together with the different asset and liability accounts, the financial statements will not give an accurate snapshot of how the business is doing. I often hear accountants say: “Garbage in, garbage out.” As I continue along, I would like to work with small businesses in a bookkeeping capacity. All I need now is to trust in my abilities. It’s an interesting hat to wear—the hat where you know deep inside you can do something, but you hold yourself back. I’ve lived it far too long and it’s time to do something about it; hearing myself say—write those words—feels good. We’ll see how it goes.
Writing will always be with me—that I can be certain of. And even if I had to set it aside, it would still be with me.
One day I would like to work in an assisted living facility or for an organization such as Meals on Wheels and Senior Outreach Services. I could see myself in a bookkeeping or administrative role, but I would especially like to be involved with an activities director to help facilitate and develop fun and meaningful activities for the seniors. So one day when I’m ready to launch my wings in this direction, if the pull is still there, I will know that I’ve stated my intention. By writing this here and now, I am focusing myself and preparing myself for what is to come. I will know and keep in mind that as the seasons change, so too my path may change at any given moment. I will be grateful and appreciative for today. Today feels better for being able to begin to be of more use in the world—if even in a small way—through my words, through my smile, through sharing.
Every moment counts.
It began almost two weeks ago. It’s been much slower at work and as I’ve stated and keep giving thanks for, I am grateful to have a job. That it’s slow right now is temporary. But it was the talk I had with the boss and I wanted to be honest to let him know that it was difficult for me during these slow times—difficult to fill the hours with a steady workflow and since I’m an hourly employee, I feel the diminished hours too. I told him that as in the past, I might try to see if there are other part-time opportunities out there, so that I can both keep my current job and find another job to supplement. As I sat there, I realized and told him, it’s really about feeling productive and in my mind I thought—and useful.
This may likely be the slowest of our slow periods yet. I think the largest obstacle for me and one that I believe was hitting home with me through reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged is in feeling that I am slipping into mediocrity and non-usefulness. When I had the talk with the boss a couple of weeks ago, that is when I decided that because I may have a little more time to use, I was going to try to put it to good use by finding a volunteer opportunity. I’ve always had a soft spot for seniors so when I did a search on the web, I found a volunteer website that searched by zip code. As I looked through the listings I found one that I knew I would be doing one day. I started that process and awaited an email to find out the next steps. I will be a “friendly visitor” to a senior through Meals on Wheels and Senior Outreach Services. The program asks for a 1 hour per week commitment for a 6-month period. I’m excited and nervous because it will be something new for me. The program matches you with a senior who has similar interests as you do. This new experience has brought me to a book that I found through Kindle, then checked it out through the library because they happened to have it. It’s called How to Say it to Seniors: Closing the Communication Gap with our Elders by David Solie, M.S., P.A.
From the short bit I’ve read so far, what I can tell I’m going to appreciate about reading this book is hearing the author’s perspective on the developmental stages of our elders. I remember how my grandparents both had different stories they shared—stories that they would repeat. I listened and as far as I recall, I never said, “You told me that already, grandma.” There were frustrations with my grandfather, but luckily, I think I only corrected him once and after that, I just allowed him to believe what he needed to believe and worked with it as best I could, going along in most cases. My grandfather did end up developing Alzheimer’s, while my grandmother did not. My grandfather regressed into a childlike manner; my grandmother did not. It was difficult and sad at times to watch the deterioration and I saw how my uncle was able to keep everyone’s spirits lifted with his natural sense of humor. My uncle is now 81, but he is still able to maintain his independence and goes out and about. I’m thankful for that. I hope that I will return to this blog with reflections about the book, How to Say it to Seniors, to share what I recall from my own experiences and explore what seems true.
When I am paired with my senior friend, I will offer a smile and allow them to lead the way—of how we will spend our hour and we’ll take it from there. When I visit with my uncle, I mostly listen; I also ask questions and we laugh.
I admire that which I do not hold within myself. Ayn Rand’s character Dagny inspires me, not to be as harsh as she can be—but to find within myself the self-confidence that I sometimes have, but mostly don’t. It could be called something else. I know that it’s been with me every since I can remember. I reach a certain point and then I stop. The only constant is writing. I always keep writing near. An example that comes to mind is when I was going to complete an accounting certificate through DVC years ago. In 2001 I took Principles of Accounting and I passed, but I didn’t do great. I learned some bookkeeping on the job during this time. In 2007 I thought I would try to earn an accounting certificate and all the while I would be sure if I was taking an accounting or business course, I was also taking an English or writing course to balance it out with something I loved and wanted more of. Still in 2007, Intermediate Accounting wasn’t going too well. I dropped too late, ending up with an “F” on my transcript. The concepts covered in Intermediate Accounting were not wrapping around my head. I knew that what I really wanted to do was to gain the skills to become a proficient bookkeeper, not an accountant. But, alas, self-confidence, lack of internal motivation in that direction put that on hold. Today in my current job, I am able to do light bookkeeping, but I do not do the full cycle that a full-charge bookkeeper would perform. Inside I know I can do it, with a few learnings along the way. However, it’s that self-confidence—it’s that feeling of not wanting to be found in a situation and not knowing the answer. I admire those with an entrepreneurial spirit. They dig right in whether they know something or not; they are resourceful and learn along the way. I’m resourceful. What I lack is something else. It’s a fear of not knowing.
The boss has been on vacation and it’s given me time to do some clutter cleaning at work and thinking. I came across some materials that I had printed out some time ago on becoming proficient in QuickBooks; I also found some descriptions of what a full-charge bookkeeper does and I saw the gaps in my knowledge base. Then yesterday my co-worker was working on something and made a comment about how the bookkeeper for a particular client did not code certain things properly and he was surprised that she didn’t seem to know. I had recalled from my accounting classes, when he told me the example, that it wouldn’t have gone where she put it and I knew where it would go instead. We were done with our conversation and I thought I could do this!
I hopped on the computer and did a search in the adult education brochures online. There were two accounting classes that started the following day, which is today. Often classes are already full. I called to inquire about availability. There was space. The next question was do I start anew and take their version of accounting I again or go to accounting II. It felt like only a few years ago that I took level I, but when I looked online at my transcripts, that’s when I saw that it was all the way back in 2001. Because the nature of my work now is mostly administrative, I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on the whole process from start to finish again. Tonight will be my first class. It feels good. I’m also enrolled in the short story writing class for the Fall semester and who knows—by then I might also enroll in the accounting levels II/III thorough adult education. I figure that by the time I meet with my boss for my annual review coming up, I will have a better idea of how I can use my bookkeeping skills more, whether it is with him or by being an independent contractor and going out and marketing myself—once I gain more experience and knowledge. Bookkeeping itself is not difficult and QuickBooks and other computerized programs make the task easy. However, if one doesn’t have a solid understanding of how the debits and credits work together with the different asset and liability accounts, the financial statements will not give an accurate snapshot of how the business is doing. I often hear accountants say: “Garbage in, garbage out.” As I continue along, I would like to work with small businesses in a bookkeeping capacity. All I need now is to trust in my abilities. It’s an interesting hat to wear—the hat where you know deep inside you can do something, but you hold yourself back. I’ve lived it far too long and it’s time to do something about it; hearing myself say—write those words—feels good. We’ll see how it goes.
Writing will always be with me—that I can be certain of. And even if I had to set it aside, it would still be with me.
One day I would like to work in an assisted living facility or for an organization such as Meals on Wheels and Senior Outreach Services. I could see myself in a bookkeeping or administrative role, but I would especially like to be involved with an activities director to help facilitate and develop fun and meaningful activities for the seniors. So one day when I’m ready to launch my wings in this direction, if the pull is still there, I will know that I’ve stated my intention. By writing this here and now, I am focusing myself and preparing myself for what is to come. I will know and keep in mind that as the seasons change, so too my path may change at any given moment. I will be grateful and appreciative for today. Today feels better for being able to begin to be of more use in the world—if even in a small way—through my words, through my smile, through sharing.
Every moment counts.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Making a Difference
Yesterday I had the pleasure and privilege of witnessing the graduating class of 2012 from the Nursing program at Merritt College. The speakers imparted their last words of encouragement and wisdom as these new nurses-- men and women--would go out into the world to help care for people and to put people at ease when they need it the most inside of sterile hospitals, that though filled with people, can feel like the human element is missing. I was so proud to be a part of the applause, the tears, the joy, the celebration of these new nurses.
The human element was held high. Don't forget that as you're charting and dealing with instruments--don't forget that there's a human there sitting or lying in the bed. Take the time to ask how they are doing. Take it slow, be mindful, compassionate--and be flexible. These were some of the words of wisdom that were imparted to these nurses. And all the while I was thinking YES. Not only yes, but why aren't these simple human principles practiced in daily life? Too often were in a hurry. Too often smiles are nonexistent. Too often we grow impatient.
As I sat in the audience amongst the families and friends of these graduates, I felt proud and for a few moments I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to be part of a profession that touches lives. I know nursing is not my path, but being a part of this celebration affirms for me that helping in some way is in me--it always has been--and that I'm no longer able to feel this joy in my own job--at least not to my capabilities and desires.
A week ago I began a process to go in that direction--on a voluntary basis--in the direction of being helpful in a small way, to hopefully brighten someone's day. I hope that along the way, I gain the courage that I need to find a new career path or find a mix that will allow me to both make a living and make a difference. For now, if the process goes well, it will be enough.
The human element was held high. Don't forget that as you're charting and dealing with instruments--don't forget that there's a human there sitting or lying in the bed. Take the time to ask how they are doing. Take it slow, be mindful, compassionate--and be flexible. These were some of the words of wisdom that were imparted to these nurses. And all the while I was thinking YES. Not only yes, but why aren't these simple human principles practiced in daily life? Too often were in a hurry. Too often smiles are nonexistent. Too often we grow impatient.
As I sat in the audience amongst the families and friends of these graduates, I felt proud and for a few moments I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to be part of a profession that touches lives. I know nursing is not my path, but being a part of this celebration affirms for me that helping in some way is in me--it always has been--and that I'm no longer able to feel this joy in my own job--at least not to my capabilities and desires.
A week ago I began a process to go in that direction--on a voluntary basis--in the direction of being helpful in a small way, to hopefully brighten someone's day. I hope that along the way, I gain the courage that I need to find a new career path or find a mix that will allow me to both make a living and make a difference. For now, if the process goes well, it will be enough.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
May Morning
There's a restless stillness to the morning.
Cars roar by, beeping horns.
Little birds chirp away interrupted
by morning doves cooing in the distance;
trees shake and bend--a graceful urgency--
in deep conversation with the wind.
Cars roar by, beeping horns.
Little birds chirp away interrupted
by morning doves cooing in the distance;
trees shake and bend--a graceful urgency--
in deep conversation with the wind.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Estate Sale ~ Hearts and Ramekins
Over many weekends we’ve seen signs posted for estate sales and garage sales. We’ve caught a few garage sales toward latter part of their day, only to find that there wasn’t anything left that we wanted. This past weekend while we were running errands, I saw a sign that read “estate sale.” I expressed my interest in stopping, especially since I’d never been to one before. To be quite honest, it really hadn’t sunk into my head what an estate sale really was. Even though the words couldn’t be any plainer, it didn’t register and my mind had imagined a whole block of homes that were participating in selling their goods.
I saw the sign with the address followed by #227. My significant other said that we would take care of our errands first and then we would catch the sale on the way back. It was still early.
Done with what we set out to do, we slowed as we approached the street and when we saw the large neon sign, we pulled over and found a place to park. It was a hot day, my mouth felt dry, and the air was thick. We walked toward the sign and followed the arrows through the gate. This seemed to be an apartment complex for seniors and it was the most peaceful location. The grass was well kept and there were benches for sitting and enjoying the trees, fresh air, and flowers. There was a hush that silenced the outside commotion of cars and machinery. I could see myself living in a place like this. Peaceful, serene, a sense of community.
As we came around the corner to #227, my significant other said, “there will probably be a lot of knick-knacks.” And just as he said this, I saw in through the window to a windowsill filled with figurines. We entered the home through its open door to be greeted by others looking through the various items that were displayed on tables. We made eye contact with the woman who was holding the sale and said hello. She seemed in her late 40s and was not overly friendly. I went first to two small bookshelves of books. It was like any other home with the types of things that one has surrounded themselves with to make a home feel like a home.
It didn’t start settling in until I saw photos that were also part of the sale, possibly photos of the woman who owned all the items in this home before she passed on. To see her photo and the many other small black and white photos in a box waiting for someone to buy left an unidentifiable feeling inside of me. How did I feel rummaging through this woman’s things. I assumed it was a single woman because there wasn’t any men’s clothing. She could have been a widow.
On one of the tables I saw a small flat metal heart that couldn’t be used for much, except maybe to place a dried flower or a pair of earrings or a few pieces of candy. There was something about it that I liked, though. I left it there and would point it out to my significant other when I found him in another room of the house.
The home had a scent of many old memories planted all around, soon to be dispersed and forgotten.
Every item was well marked with price tags. In the kitchen, I saw a set of four ramekins for making custard. I had wanted to add a set to my collection of kitchen supplies after seeing a recipe for flan.
It was a tight squeeze in the home navigating the other people and the long tables set up in the middle of the small living room displaying a variety of trinkets and knick-knacks for sale. We took our things up to the lady and she wrote down what she sold us and the cost on a sheet of paper, adding to a short list she had already started. We gave her the money, thanked her, and we were on our way.
As we walked away past the green grass and back onto the noisy sidewalk, my significant other said, “how sad.”
“I’m not sure how I feel. I didn’t feel like it was wrong. I know what you mean though. I wonder who the woman was,” I said. “Maybe her daughter?”
“It could have been her caretaker.”
“She didn’t seem sad. It must be sort of odd having someone go through your home while you’re right there.”
“It doesn’t seem like she’s going to get rid of much. It’s mostly little things that no one’s going to want.”
“I wonder how she’ll get rid of the rest.”
I carefully placed the ramekins in the car, so that they wouldn’t bump into each other.
On the car ride home, I wasn’t sure what to feel or how I felt rummaging through a deceased person’s things, seeing her picture smiling up at me from its small frame. I do know that I will put these ramekins to good use one of these days when I set out to make some custard or flan. I’ll think of the woman and hope that she’ll know that her ramekins are in good hands—and that her heart found mine—hearts all around.
Children’s Books ~ Timeless Connections & Endless Joys
This week’s blog topic comes at just the time when I’ve been busily checking out picture books from the library, looking at a few on my own shelves, and searching the shelves of the library bookstore for a gem or two to add to my small children’s book collection.
When I gave the topic more thought, the George and Martha books written and illustrated by James Marshall immediately flew into my field of memory. I most definitely remember the illustrations without even looking at the books. These are books that I remember my mother bringing home for me from the library. I don’t remember reading them, only looking at those lovely pictures and knowing by the illustrations what silliness George and Martha were up to.
After that short reverie back to childhood, I am back to the present, and I have chosen one that I’ve had for some time now as my favorite, but there are three others that I would like to mention first.
Click, Clack, Moo
Cows That Type
By Doreen Cronin. Pictures by Betsy Lewin.
This is a fun picture book that is a delight to read out loud and made me laugh several times. The large colorful illustrations capture a lot of personality as the cows try to negotiate with Farmer Brown.
Dog Loves Books
By Louise Yates
The soft illustrations in this thoughtful book feel as light as cotton candy dancing across the pages to the story’s end. Dog is the star with his many expressions to suit the occasion as he tries to get his bookstore off the ground.
Artist to Artist: 23 Major Illustrators Talk to Children about Their Art
By Eric Carle
This is a gorgeous book for children and adults alike. Each artist talks a little bit about themselves and how they came to be artists; the opposite page includes a photo or self-portrait of the artist and a fold out page of various small clips of their illustrations and sketches, as well as the artist at work.
**
And now for my favorite illustrated book:
The Three Questions Based on a Story by Leo Tolstoy.
Written and illustrated by Jon J. Muth.
We follow the young boy, Nikolai, as he sets out to answer his three questions. He will have help from different creaturely friends and gain new experiences along the way.
The story itself is like a gentle ripple in a still lake of compassion—rippling out, impressing itself upon the vast oceans. The illustrations have a quality that invites me to become a part of the story—and that makes me feel that I am a part of the story. I want to dip my toe into the page’s shores, keep stepping further in—and by the time I’ve reached the story’s end, I am left with a sense that I am indeed a part of the story.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Monday Morning Page: Writing it Out ~ Books
There is a nervous buzz of energy and at the same time there is an excited, eager energy waiting to see what I decide. Don’t stop. Don’t look at the words on the page. Let them out of their own accord. Look away. Tap away. Type it out.
I don’t know why there is hesitation at taking a short story writing course in the Fall. I think there will be room, but I’m not sure. I won’t be sure until my registration date. I’m surprised I’m still in the system, since it’s been a while since I’ve taken a course. I’ve taken the creative writing course and that included a good amount of short story writing. It seems the teacher thought I was best on my darker stories, but that was a different time. I don’t find the short story to be a natural container for me. It is a challenge and that may be why I would like to take this course.
I recently pulled one of my old journals. Just as I often leave books unread, it seems I’ve also left a few journals unwritten in with many blank pages. In this journal from 2002 I found a few entries where I had written my reactions to books that I was reading. The one that made me go looking for the book in my shelves is Milan Kundera’s The Art of the Novel. I read my notes and then I tried to find it on my shelves, but it looks like I gave it up during my move. In the process of searching for this book, I found Ayn Rand’s The Art of Fiction: A Guide for Writers and Readers. It’s a collection of her lectures as is Kundera’s. I pulled that book from my shelf and I began reading. I had never finished it, but remember that it got my head spinning and it had the same affect this time. I took my pencil in hand and underlined passages that especially spoke to me or that I wanted to come back to later. I adore her absolute confidence as a writer: “In regard to precision of language, I think myself am the best writer today” (pg. 10). She made this statement sometime in 1958.
While searching the library catalog for Kundera’s The Art of the Novel, I came across Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing: Essays on Creativity. I recognized it. I had it in my possession at some point—again another unfinished book. I wasn’t ready for it at the time is the only explanation I can think of. I put a hold on it, so that I could check it out of the library. I then placed an order through Amazon for Kundera’s book. The moment I started reading Bradbury’s book of essays, I was in love instantly with his writing and how he expressed himself. I am almost done and am savoring every single word, not wanting to reach the end. Besides reading fiction, I absolutely love reading writers sharing their process. I’m glad that I have rediscovered Bradbury. Since getting this book of his essays, I have checked out a couple of his short story collections and read a few of his short stories and plan to read more. He is an amazing storyteller and his imagination and inspiration seems never ending. I have since also picked up a copy of Fahrenheit 451 because I never did read it.
What’s interesting to me is that it took the authors themselves, to discuss their own works, to bring me to their fiction. With Milan Kundera, I had read his fiction first. With Rand and Bradbury, it was their non-fiction that I read first. And it was Rand’s own words that finally convinced me that I needed to read Atlas Shrugged and that I would not regret it. I tried to read it a long time ago. I was daunted by its massiveness and I wasn’t able to get into the story right away. I downloaded it to my Kindle last week and I started reading it slowly, taking in her precision of language. I was able to enter the story with more interest partially because my grandfather worked on the railroads. I had to find an in. My interest was also galvanized when she said, “A sentence in Atlas Shrugged that is applicable to all rational people, but particularly to writers, is the one where I say that Dagny ‘regarded language as a tool of honor, always to be used as if one were under oath—an oath of allegiance to reality.’ In regard to words, this should be the motto of every writer” (pg. 10). She sealed it for me and my decision was made that I would read Atlas Shrugged when she said, “For instance, the theme of Atlas Shrugged is ‘the importance of reason’—a wide abstraction…Every chapter and paragraph of Atlas Shrugged is set up on the same principle: What abstraction do I want to convey—and what concretes will convey it?” (Pg. 13). I am fully absorbed this time while reading Atlas Shrugged and I will allow myself at least three month’s to finish it while still trying to read other books. I seem to do best when I have too many books to choose from. I cannot stick with one book at a time.
I’m still thinking about Rand’s words and that’s one of the aspects of reading that I hunger for. Sometimes I want to read for pure enjoyment, but mostly I want to read a piece of fiction that will push my mind—that will make me think and plant seeds that I add to my conscious and subconscious garden and that will blend with other seeds along the way, storing these seeds in my mind for later use—for continued connections and patterns.
This morning I drew one Tarot card for guidance for the day and also with regard to the short story writing course that I want to take—the hesitation. I pulled a trump card: The Universe. The card helped me come to the page. I feel grateful that my soul gravitated to this card and not seeing any of the cards while I chose with cards face down and my eyes closed, taking my hand and going back and forth until I felt ready. The Universe: The principal of totality, individuation/wholeness.
I do feel at one with the Universe, and I am grateful for that. And I am grateful for my inner guidance, for writing, for reading, for love—and even for sadness, for I can’t feel without it—grateful for being able to feel and express.
I don’t know why there is hesitation at taking a short story writing course in the Fall. I think there will be room, but I’m not sure. I won’t be sure until my registration date. I’m surprised I’m still in the system, since it’s been a while since I’ve taken a course. I’ve taken the creative writing course and that included a good amount of short story writing. It seems the teacher thought I was best on my darker stories, but that was a different time. I don’t find the short story to be a natural container for me. It is a challenge and that may be why I would like to take this course.
I recently pulled one of my old journals. Just as I often leave books unread, it seems I’ve also left a few journals unwritten in with many blank pages. In this journal from 2002 I found a few entries where I had written my reactions to books that I was reading. The one that made me go looking for the book in my shelves is Milan Kundera’s The Art of the Novel. I read my notes and then I tried to find it on my shelves, but it looks like I gave it up during my move. In the process of searching for this book, I found Ayn Rand’s The Art of Fiction: A Guide for Writers and Readers. It’s a collection of her lectures as is Kundera’s. I pulled that book from my shelf and I began reading. I had never finished it, but remember that it got my head spinning and it had the same affect this time. I took my pencil in hand and underlined passages that especially spoke to me or that I wanted to come back to later. I adore her absolute confidence as a writer: “In regard to precision of language, I think myself am the best writer today” (pg. 10). She made this statement sometime in 1958.
While searching the library catalog for Kundera’s The Art of the Novel, I came across Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing: Essays on Creativity. I recognized it. I had it in my possession at some point—again another unfinished book. I wasn’t ready for it at the time is the only explanation I can think of. I put a hold on it, so that I could check it out of the library. I then placed an order through Amazon for Kundera’s book. The moment I started reading Bradbury’s book of essays, I was in love instantly with his writing and how he expressed himself. I am almost done and am savoring every single word, not wanting to reach the end. Besides reading fiction, I absolutely love reading writers sharing their process. I’m glad that I have rediscovered Bradbury. Since getting this book of his essays, I have checked out a couple of his short story collections and read a few of his short stories and plan to read more. He is an amazing storyteller and his imagination and inspiration seems never ending. I have since also picked up a copy of Fahrenheit 451 because I never did read it.
What’s interesting to me is that it took the authors themselves, to discuss their own works, to bring me to their fiction. With Milan Kundera, I had read his fiction first. With Rand and Bradbury, it was their non-fiction that I read first. And it was Rand’s own words that finally convinced me that I needed to read Atlas Shrugged and that I would not regret it. I tried to read it a long time ago. I was daunted by its massiveness and I wasn’t able to get into the story right away. I downloaded it to my Kindle last week and I started reading it slowly, taking in her precision of language. I was able to enter the story with more interest partially because my grandfather worked on the railroads. I had to find an in. My interest was also galvanized when she said, “A sentence in Atlas Shrugged that is applicable to all rational people, but particularly to writers, is the one where I say that Dagny ‘regarded language as a tool of honor, always to be used as if one were under oath—an oath of allegiance to reality.’ In regard to words, this should be the motto of every writer” (pg. 10). She sealed it for me and my decision was made that I would read Atlas Shrugged when she said, “For instance, the theme of Atlas Shrugged is ‘the importance of reason’—a wide abstraction…Every chapter and paragraph of Atlas Shrugged is set up on the same principle: What abstraction do I want to convey—and what concretes will convey it?” (Pg. 13). I am fully absorbed this time while reading Atlas Shrugged and I will allow myself at least three month’s to finish it while still trying to read other books. I seem to do best when I have too many books to choose from. I cannot stick with one book at a time.
I’m still thinking about Rand’s words and that’s one of the aspects of reading that I hunger for. Sometimes I want to read for pure enjoyment, but mostly I want to read a piece of fiction that will push my mind—that will make me think and plant seeds that I add to my conscious and subconscious garden and that will blend with other seeds along the way, storing these seeds in my mind for later use—for continued connections and patterns.
This morning I drew one Tarot card for guidance for the day and also with regard to the short story writing course that I want to take—the hesitation. I pulled a trump card: The Universe. The card helped me come to the page. I feel grateful that my soul gravitated to this card and not seeing any of the cards while I chose with cards face down and my eyes closed, taking my hand and going back and forth until I felt ready. The Universe: The principal of totality, individuation/wholeness.
I do feel at one with the Universe, and I am grateful for that. And I am grateful for my inner guidance, for writing, for reading, for love—and even for sadness, for I can’t feel without it—grateful for being able to feel and express.
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