Book Blocked

There's something a bit off in one of my most treasured relationships. I can't describe it, but lately we haven't been connecting at all. We sit down together as we always have, but somehow don't engage. My mind wanders, and before long I'm thinking about my "to do" list, or the grocery shopping, or worrying over a tough passage in a Mozart Sonata. Several times, I've been forced to simply walk away. Books and I aren't getting along well. Don't laugh- reading is a relationship with me. I count on the fictional world to help me escape from the dreary real world and entertain me with the antics of interesting characters. I expect poetry to elevate my senses, soothe my spirit, ignite my intellect. I come to non-fiction to inspire my muse and feed my creativity. Lately, none of this has been happening with any of my books. My book journal for the month of October is completely bare ~I've finished nothing. However, here's what I've started and put aside in the last two weeks~The Lay of the Land, Still Summer, Keeping the World Away, Body Surfing, and The Jane Austen Book Club. These may be perfectly fine books, but every time I sat down to read I kept losing my place in the middle of a page, or going back to re-read the last three paragraphs because my mind hadn't registered a thing. Finally, disappointed in the book (and in myself) I placed each one back in the "to be returned" pile of my library stack. I don't take my relationships lightly, and the one I have with books is no exception. Giving up on one is hard. There was a point in my reading life when I refused to do it, and would struggle through most anything until the end. Now, though, there really are simply too many books and too little time. If a book and I aren't enjoying one another after about 50 pages, we part company. But it doesn't happen often, certainly not with five books in a row as it has this month. I suppose reading relationships go throught difficult periods like human relationships. Sometimes we simply fail to give each other what is needed. For whatever reason, we don't find the sustenance, the comfort, the insight that's required. But during those strained times, there is definitely something missing from life, and I feel bereft and lonely. Today, I'm off to the library to bring home a new collection of possibilites. Wish me luck.

How about you? How are things in your reading life?

Friday Feast

AppetizerIf you were a dog, what breed would you be, and why? Probably a border collie, because I always seem to be running around trying to keep all my sheep in line! Soup What does the color purple make you think of? Royalty. The majestic purple of velvet robes worn by queens and monarchs. Also eggplant, which I love to eat deep fried or baked in marinara sauce and Parmesan cheese.

Salad Approximately how long does it take you to get ready each morning? About 45 minutes. It takes longest to blow dry my hair and try and tame those natural waves into the smooth page boy I prefer. Main Course How many cousins do you have, and are you close to them? I have more cousins than I can count, oddly enough. Most of them are of the second, third, and otherwise "removed" variety and are scattered all over the country. I do have three or four first cousins that I grew up with here in Detroit, and we were close as children. But as it the way of the world, now that we're grown up we never see each other.

Dessert Take your initials (first, middle, last) and come up with something else those letters could stand for. (Example: SFO = Sweet Funny Otter) Reflective Maternal Reader here are more feasts

Poetry Thursday

I took my sorrow and placed it firmly into a paper sackthe kind you get at very good grocery stores a heavy one with wire wrapped handles I knew it must be hidden so I wouldn't be tempted to take it out every so often and fondle it worry it between the fingers of my heart like those beads Indian women use to pray I carried the bag by the handles hoping I wouldn't hear the sorrow rattling around inside bumping against the confines of its paper prison searching for its own escape from darkness Into the garage I carried it my eyes searching furtively for the perfect spot like a dog who needs to bury a bone a place where I could retrieve it if I must (but not to easily) There, behind a box of Christmas lights, used only rarely now or no, on the shelf next to the catcher's mitt and car wash bucket perhaps in the old fruit cellar the warped wooden door shoved up against it Panic rises, for there seems no safe place so I stand holding this bag of sorrow, my palms moist on its handles finally knowing it won't be hidden.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was a young woman, I allowed sorrows to consume me. If I were sad, or worried, or upset, I couldn't eat or sleep...I curled myself tightly into a ball and let life pass me by until I felt able to move forward again. As I've aged, I've become more adept at compartmentalizing sorrow. It's not completely hidden, it's not ignored, it's simply set aside in a secret place, so that I can go on with life.

Thank you all for your kind comments and all the positive thoughts you've sent our way this week.

It helps more than you know :)

Please Remain Seated

"Your vehicle has momentarily stopped. Please remain seated. Your vehicle will begin moving shortly."If you've ever been to Disney World, you might have heard those words when your ride stopped in its tracks for some mysterious reason. There you sit, often in nearly complete darkness, perhaps perched on the edge of a precipice or tilted at an odd angle, waiting for some unseen technician to push the button that will send a surge of electricity and jolt you into forward motion. I'm in that vehicle now, stopped in the dark.

My intention in this blog is always to illuminate life in its most positive way, to write about things that move me, inspire me, experiences that help me grow as a woman, a writer, a person. But the truth is, that life in general is not always positive, that difficult things happen and sometimes cannot be made rosy, must simply be lived through and learned from.

Last week, I wrote about the exciting new ride our family was embarking on, about the baby my son and daughter in law were expecting. Yet, this week, that ride has stopped, the forward progress halted before the ride had barely begun.Statistically, I know that more than 60% of women will suffer miscarriage, and that the vast majority of them go on to have healthy, happy babies, often rather quickly afterward. Intellectually, I know that when a woman miscarries early in a pregnancy, it usually means the embryo was "flawed" in some way, could not sustain life. Practically, I understand there are griefs far greater, sorrows much deeper, disappointments much harsher to bear.

Emotionally, none of that matters.

It takes so little time for a mother to endow her baby with an entire world of possibilities - whether that baby is still only a tiny bud yet to flower, or a freshly born, squalling bundle of life. While your body is suffused with hormones, your mind is flooded with hopes and dreams, anticipations of what this child will be like, will do in the world. It happens in a heartbeat, a finger snap, the few seconds it takes for the line on the stick to turn blue. You are a mother.

A friend wrote these words to me:

"Attempting pregnancy is to accept the whole spectrum of possible outcomes. It's emotionally terribly risky, as is parenthood itself. You leave yourself wide open to fate; your children hold your whole life in their hands, for good or for ill. You're open to feelings and experiences that are like nothing else in life. In the end, the early miscarriage may play out in a positive way for them -- they'll have far more perspective and depth than so many whose pregnancies occur as a matter of course. It will make their baby even more precious, even more of a miracle." I believe this is true, that Brian and Nantana have already taken a deeper step into being parents than they realize, have already risked and suffered, have experienced a taste of the challenge and joy of having children. When this ride is once again set in motion (as I believe it will be very soon), they will be stronger parents and stronger partners when it reaches a safe and natural conclusion.

For now, we shed tears, take deep breaths, and remain seated.

Cafe Writing-Seven Things

Seven Things About~

October

~Fall Foliage- The marvelous spectrum of colors is one of the best things about living in Michigan. Scarlet, persimmon, and brilliant gold is etched against a deeper- than- usual blue sky. Sometimes it's so beautiful, it hurts.

~Fall fashion - I love the dark colors associated with fall clothes, love the look of sweaters and the textures of fleece and flannel. And being able to layer clothing hides a multitude of figure sins.

~Outside Walks-October is my favorite month for walking outside. The weather is usually just right for me and the dogs (especially if I'm wearing one of the aforementioned fleeces or flannels) and they love tramping through (the aformentioned) foliage that's lying all over the ground.

~Cider and Donuts - Michigan has worlds of apple orchards, and October is peak production month for cider. We have a local mill where we can watch the apples get mashed to a goopy pulp before they're turned into cold, sweet cider, the perfect way to wash down those warm (and slightly greasy) cinnamon spice donuts.

~Birthdays-October is my husband's birth month, and he's certainly worth celebrating! In an odd twist of fate, his two best friends from school days were also born in October. The boys birthdays are each 12 days apart!

~Allergies-Nothing's perfect, is it? October is my worst allergy month, mostly because the nights get chilly and we fire up the furnace, blowing all sorts of dust and molds about. So, while I'm admiring the leaves and partaking of my cider and donuts, I'm usually sneezing and snuffling too.

~Halloween-I confess, I'm not a big fan of Halloween, and I particularly don't care for all the decorations people have gotten in the habit of putting up, especially the kind where bodies are hanging from trees and lying in mock graves all over surburban front yards. Call me old fashioned if you like, I think it's distasteful. But, I know children love this holiday (my son sure did!) and I certainly don't begrudge them their fun in dressing up and collecting candy.

For this and other great writing ideas, check out the October project menu at Cafe Writing, a brand new site for writers.