Books for My Pilgrimage

Reading is my favorite doorway into new thoughts, experiences and perspectives.  After I’d complied my list of favorite books for inclusion in both Big Topics at Midnight and my website—a bit overwhelming to say the least … Are these my favoritest favorites? Am I forgetting a cherished book? …—I stepped back and looked over the list with new eyes.

I saw lots of diversity on the reading list, but was aware that most of the authors had white skin.  I challenged myself to expand the edges of my reading.  Last week as I was gathering up books from every room in the house to return them to the shelves or library, I realized I’d stepped up to the plate.  And I loved every book.

I’ve been drawn to novels, and here are the best from my summer’s reading:

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi W. Durrow.  As her website says, “Inspired by a true story of a mother’s twisted love, The Girl Who Fell from the Sky reveals an unfathomable past and explores issues of identity at a time when many people are asking ‘Must race confine us and define us?’”  Great story about love and tragedy and healing, all held in a biracial family.

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler.  This narrative leads through the fire of a civilization in chaos, but “what begins as a flight for survival soon leads to something much more: a startling vision of human destiny… and the birth of a new faith.”  I love books that head straight into tough, big topics and find transformation on the otherside.

Women of the Silk by Gail Tsukiyama.  I actually have reread one of her novels (Dreaming Water) and read this one.  Tsukiyama is a beautiful storyteller, with her books set in China (this one), Japan and/or the US.

And for a different sort of diversity, I picked up Second Son: Transitioning Toward My Destiny, Love, and Life a memoir by Ryan Sallans.  A new friend of mine is a female to male transgendered person.  His experience is far outside of mine and I wanted to know more.  So I picked up this book, learned lots and plan to seek out a few more.

Nothing like listening to someone else’s story—in fiction or memoir—to learn more about others and myself.

How about you?  What edges do you want to push out a bit through your own reading?

Enjoy.

Sometimes lists. Sometimes listening.

I am a list queen.

Right now, I have three lists going at once—things I need to do next week, my general list and a book  order list.

Tonight at 11:30 p.m., I left behind a gently snoring Howard to get up and write down a detail about the book’s coming out party next week (on my general list) and the name of a friend who wanted me to send her mother a copy of my book (book order list).  Then I noticed that my general list was too messy—too many things crossed out—so I rewrote the list.

It’s almost midnight, and here I am still up.  Again.

I recall my reputation with grocery lists.  Nine times out of ten, I either leave my list at home or on top of the onions in the produce aisle within ten minutes of beginning my shopping.  Eight times out of those nine, I get home from the store with almost everything that was on the lost list. Knowing that about myself, however, doesn’t calm my urgent fears that THIS TIME I will forget something.

With my book just out in the world and the huge unknowns of marketing looming large in my mind, I want to cling to lists—mine and the ones that fill self-publishing books. The trouble is that my best work doesn’t flow when I’m trying to check things off.  I may feel efficient, yet something is missing.

Odd thing is, I know that my creative juices flow best when the prompting comes from deep inside me, bubbling up from my belly.  I wake with a few sentences luring me to sit down and write.  An urge arises to call someone.  An idea comes for a gathering of friends to mark a special moment in our lives.  Thoughts arrive gently, seemingly out of nowhere, each holding a bit of sparkle.

These nudges seem untimely, scattered or illogical when I try to understand them with my mind.  But time and time again, they lead to places beyond anything imagined or possible through my lists.  I get an image of the big picture of marketing the book—reaching out to meet people who are already waking up to the big topics rather than me out trying to sell the book—and suddenly the numerous details don’t seem as important.

While writing Big Topics at Midnight, I began to learn the language of my body.  Now when I pay attention to my belly or back, it gives me information about unnoticed feelings or the need to stop for a few moments and stretch. I’ve learned to hear these subtle forms of guidance even though my head often shouts that all of this intuition stuff is just a burp from my imagination.

I was born with a mind that easily learned the “right” form of intelligence—think things through, be logical and rational, and be able to defend my thinking with solid facts.  Only later did I discover the wisdom of my belly, intuition and Spirit.

It wasn’t easy to incorporate this more feminine way, of knowing, and the power of the “one right way” has a stronghold on me.  Things on my lists seem so urgent, so clear.  Intuition, on the other hand, comes sometimes in a haze and always with its own timing.  I’m not fond of waiting.

It is 12:15 a.m.  I’m up with the cool night breezes and occasional cars driving by trying to remember what I know: My most important spiritual practice is learning how to stand in the middle of the paradoxes of life.  Nevertheless, it doesn’t seem very efficient.

Actually, it’s a pain sometimes.

Lately I’ve stumbled under the weight of getting to all of the tasks on my book lists.

Still, I want to do both—following my inner guidance and my carefully crafted agenda.

So I fall down.  Then I stand back up again and return to my practice of taking the best from both approaches.  Sometimes lists.  Sometimes listening.  Sometimes pushing forward to get things done.  Sometimes sitting outside under the tree and slowing down enough to hear that still small voice inside.

Sometimes I’m a listening queen.