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[lady_schrapnell]

Well. Able to update again after computer crisis, and caught up with the blog reading too. That had to be spaced out rather: read a few entries from people who went to the clearly amazing (First) Kidlitosphere conference (there are reports everywhere, but I'll give you Liz B's first report/round-up for one) - stop and read something totally unassociated to get back the generosity of spirit to feel joy for those who could go and meet each other - read a few more. Fight off bitterness. Repeat. Discover the next one is being held in Portland (totally impossible for me to think about). Fail the whole generous thing totally. Recover...

Anyway, adding Crazy Aunt Purl's Drunk, Divorced, and Covered in Cat Hair to my still-in-progress read of Eat, Pray, Love may have been just a bit too much of the whole flash-back to divorce thing for me. Last night I dreamed I went -- No. Way. Not bloody Manderlay. Please! But not that much better. I'd a dream of returning to university - the same dorm I'd lived in (dream world, not a real dorm), the same people all back, remembering everything perfectly. But here's the kicker: I felt a need to tell everyone that since I'd been there last I'd been married and divorced. As you do. (Well, hey - the scarlet D has faded a bit.) This dream wasn't quite the hideous nightmare it might sound, but it was very lonely.

Now in most ways I'd hardly think of these two books in the same breath, as it were, and I'm not pushing (successfully!) Drunk, Divorced etc on everyone with the same abandon as Eat, Pray Love, but I've got a warm welcome for both. I'd so have loved to have virtual friends like these back in divorce hell.

This first is for everyone who has ever tried to do any kind of meditating (loosely) in any type of religious or non-religious way: centering prayer, TM, mindful breathing, just trying to still the mind for a second or two.

It's tiring physical labor, but my daily hours of work are considerably easier than my daily hours of meditation.  The truth is, I don't think I'm good at meditatio.  I know I'm out of practice with it, but honestly I was never good at it.  I can't seem to get my mind to hold still.  I mentioned this once to an Indian monk, and he said, 'It's a pity you're the only person in the history of the world who ever had this problem'.

The three pages of the conversation between her and her mind during meditation cracked me up entirely, but I promised short, so that's right out. The next isn't funny, but I found it incredibly moving.  A friend at the ashram brought Liz to the top of a roof at night so she could meditate, knowing she was still horribly bothered by the bitterness left at her marriage break-up.

And then, to my surprise, still in meditation, I did an odd thing.  I invited my ex-husband to please join me up here on this rooftop in India. I asked him if he would be kind enough to meet me up here for this farewell event.  Then I waited until I felt him arrive. And he did arrive.  His presence was suddenly absolute and tangible.  I could practically smell him.

I said, 'Hi, sweetie'.

 Now that I'm starting to get a bit more caught up, I'll hopefully get to report on two kids'/YA books I read recently: stark contrast between the School Is HELL and most teachers/people in authority are its Demons feeling of one and the school (class-mates, teachers of various kinds and other assortments) can provide you help in ways you'd never have expected feeling of the other.   Well, I'm trying to be a bit of a tease....

Comments

[steepholm.livejournal.com]

I mentioned this once to an Indian monk, and he said, 'It's a pity you're the only person in the history of the world who ever had this problem'.

Indian monks can be so sarcastic...

[lady-schrapnell.livejournal.com]

I've always found that too! Spent a few idle minutes wondering whether he lost points for sarcasm or gained them for making a point in a way that would subsequently amuse many readers... (I decided the latter.)