In an attempt to periodically dust the cobwebs off this corner of my space, I'm recording a few thoughts on some of my recent memorable reads.
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I recently decided to seriously take up meditation and apply it as a consistent practice to my everyday routine. As most people are aware, meditation is one of those practices that is astoundingly simple and complicated at the same time. While everyone expounds on its benefits, very few talk about "how" it is effective in a way that a beginner can attempt to understand. When I saw a book from one of my favorite authors, Robert Wright, I gratefully started reading it. I'm so glad I did, for it is one of the best books (if not the absolute best) book on meditation and Buddhism I've ever come across. Wright is brilliant, lucid, and extremely thorough in tying erudite Buddhist wisdom with recent psychological studies on how our brain/mind works. I finally get "it"! I now understand previously obscure statements like "everything is an illusion", "detach yourself from the self", etc. There were so many "aha" moments in the book, and all of them are conveyed through really simple examples from the author's personal experiences. I really appreciated the book, and dove head first (and deeply) into the subject by reading a few other books by Dan Harris, Sam Harris, and Mark Espstein (who is a psychotherapist, and hence relates Buddhist tenets through established theories of the mind). Dan Harris's book is the most practical of the bunch (it's so much more tangible to want to be slightly more happier), while Sam Harris's treads the spiritual realm with plenty of philosophical reflections. Each book completed one part of the puzzle in my head to assemble the picture on meditation and Buddhism. It is by no means a complete or perfect picture, but good enough and substantive enough to make me meditate every day with realistic expectations. And I can now say, meditation does help; whether it is a placebo or a real effect is up to debate, but it matters little to me. The crux is this - meditation does not solve or eradicate any "unwanted/negative" feeling or thought. The insight is there is no "negative" feeling... you attribute meaning to everything. You will still feel pain, anxiety, fear, etc. However, you slowly gain the ability to detach yourself from the emotion and see it in a more abstract, objective manner, and ask a fundamental question to yourself, "So what?". Does this make you apathetic? No, quite the contrary! You somehow start seeing the "good" in many things because devoid of the negativity you previously tainted it with, you now start seeing it for just what it is, and sometimes find something to appreciate because of seeing it in a new light.
If you are curious about meditation and have plenty of questions but are wary of wading through Buddhist or spiritual books, I highly recommend Robert Wright's book. It has been pivotal to me. Additionally, both Dan Harris and Sam Harris have helpful meditation apps that can be installed on your phone for guided, disciplined training.
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Another book on Mumbai?! No, thank you! This was my first reaction and response when my book buddies suggested this book. But I was pushed to read one chapter, and then the next, and I was forced to change my attitude and resistance.
Yes, this is yet another book on the shocking disparities between the fortunate and the unfortunate, and people's wild struggle for survival in the merciless jungle that is Mumbai. But the writing captures something that is so elusive and so complicated - the essence of what India is and what defines Indians, regardless of their economic or social status, whether they are from the city or the village, from the north, south, east, or west. This is what makes this book brilliant. It's not just about one city, it is the story of Indians and India through the lens of one city that has so many facets to it.
I loved the evocative and sensitive writing, the arc the book takes through all the heart-breaking stories of different (and extremely interesting) people and the author's own personal journey. Another thing I appreciated about this book - it doesn't make you feel like you are scavenging on other people's misery, as if this book and the author have fed on tragedy to become famous. There is a point to this book that is beyond enlightening those in developed countries on the unique struggles of people in a complex, developing country. It shows how we are all essentially the same - striving for meaning in life, making the best of the cards we've been dealt, and finding happiness where we can, however we can, even if it is by deluding ourselves or telling stories to ourselves that make our existence bearable and meaningful. Morality has such different connotations in the fight for survival and sanity. It is Life of Pi in the real world.
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One of my dearest friends gave me these two books as a symbol of our friendship, hoping we will continue to be as close as Lucy Grealy and Ann Patchett. These two books therefore mean something to me. They symbolize the highs and lows of two women who clung to their friendship despite the agonizing differences and frustrations of who they were becoming and how far they were drifting.
Lucy Grealy's autobiography is bitterly sad. As an adolescent, she was diagnosed with cancer in her jaw and suffered serious facial disfigurement that left her feeling unloved and ugly. She spent her entire life relentlessly chasing behind an elusive vision of normalcy and beauty. Ann Patchett was her friend through all her years of spiraling self doubt, painful reconstructive surgeries, and agonizing obsession towards wanting something that was within her grasp, but failing to realize it. Lucy's devastating and heart breaking experiences revolving around a woman's simple need to feel beautiful, desirable, and loved (in that order) are hard to read. Although every person can relate to her needs, insecurities and self-doubts, most of us have no idea what it is to live through serious disfigurement. Her story is so severe, and such an exception that even if her need turns to unhealthy obsession, I could only sympathize. But that's only me as a reader.
Ann Patchett, her closest friend who had to support and live through the pain of her friend's breakdowns, writes how her sympathy sometimes ran out. Her autobiography (written after Lucy's passing away) is an honest narration and reflection of a friend's love and frustration on witnessing the repeated failed attempts to help her dear friend. Ann is by equal turns loving, sympathetic, bitter and resentful. While I understand her resentment and frustrations, and I appreciate the honesty of the book, I still have mixed feelings on the book because it makes it seem like Ann was the unconditionally loving, sensible and responsible person in the friendship while Lucy was just obsessive, irresponsible and less of a good friend. Ann's book does not seem like a tribute to a dear friend with a difficult life, nor is it a tribute to friendships. It is her honest reflection of how she dealt with a difficult friendship, and in that sense I don't see the purpose it serves beyond portraying herself as a great friend despite being caught in the travails of a difficult friend. More than anything, it has given me some insight into what sort of a friend I am, and how I view friendships. Is it worth being friends with someone when you start seeing yourself as the better person in the relationship? Is there a fine line between being unconditionally supportive and being an enabler of bad habits?
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After 18 years (and a very early onset of midlife crisis), I revisited "Gone with the Wind". I'm fascinated by how the same book strikes different notes in me depending on when I read it. I'm amazed I read this as a teenager and got something meaningful out of it. With no life experiences, whatever did I understand or pretend to understand? :). I don't think I liked Scarlett and never really considered her as the heroine or central character... I was waiting for her retribution and interpreted the book as a sad love story. This time around, I truly marveled at Mitchell's supreme and ingenious talent in crafting a realistic, fallible woman as the central character, showing her growth (both positive and not so positive) in ways that made her relatable and even endearing. Mitchell was truly ahead of her times by leaps and bounds to realistically portray a woman who craved to be independent, and who had the uncanny resources to be entrepreneurial during a fraught time in history. I enjoyed Scarlett and her nuanced, multifaceted characterization. I heard the feminist roar through Scarlett's story, and I loved it!
In the genre of historical romance, I recently discovered a very talented author - LaVyrle Spencer. Her most popular book, Morning Glory, deserves its praise and glory! The story is secondary to the beautiful writing, and the fantastic characterization of two lost people trying to trust themselves and each other. I loved how Spencer shows the natural progression of how a relationship slowly blossoms between two people. This was the best part of the book for me... it takes real mastery of the craft to put words to something so subtle and beautiful. Glad to stumble upon this author!
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How can I be a colored woman living in the U.S., and not read this book? It seems blasphemous :). My takeaway message is - one needs to feel like they matter, that they are of value to themselves and to others to garner the motivation to make something of their lives. The necessity and value of self-worth is well understood in theory, but its significance often evades us, especially in the grind of everyday living. Little things that seem trivial add up, and they snowball very quickly to undermine us, and our worth as women. So, within the recent context of vociferous and militant feminism, this book brings calm reason as to why sometimes the little battles are also worth fighting before they are ignored or taken as the norm. Michelle Obama writes beautifully and powerfully. Her childhood experiences are relatable and poignant. Her later life is more of a carefully constructed narrative, both on paper, as well as the public image of what we know. In that sense, she transitions from a relatable person to an intimidatingly smart and competent person who always does the right things, because perfection is not an ideal, but an achievable reality, if one chooses it.
It became a bit too political, and a bit too supportive of her husband's tenure, a bit too vocal of her amazing work as the first lady, and far too idealistic of complex issues. She's inspiring and intelligent and highly motivating no doubt, but in the quest to shatter stereotypes and glass ceilings and be a unique role model, she makes herself seem too perfect, and therefore unachievable and untouchable in some sense. A goddess to revere, but how can one hope to emulate?
