The Sunday Salon: Some Tame Gazelle

Some tame gazelle, or some gentle dove:

Something to love, oh, something to love.

~Thomas Haynes Bayly

Ah, something to love. That is indeed a major focus in Barbara Pym's delightful novel, Some Tame Gazelle, in which we find a small clutch of English matrons looking for someone on whom to bestow their ardor. For Harriet Bede, it's the village curate of the day, the hapless young man who has been assigned to their parish and by default becomes the objet du jour of Harriet's affection. In today's parlance, she would be called a cougar for the merciless way she flirts with the young men. But in the confines of the 1950's when this novel is set, there's something rather sweet about it- even though Harriet keeps refusing the marriage proposals of the ever so proper Count Bianco, who would be a perfect match.

And then there is Harriet's sister, Belinda, who reminds me of a tame gazelle, all gentleness and shyness, trying so hard to please. Alas, Belinda was not fleet enough to snare the love of her life, the imperious Archdeacon, whom she has loved since the days of her youth but whose affections were given elsewhere. And now she follows him around the parish like a sad puppy, hoping for a crumb of attention here and there.

Barbara Pym (1913-1980) was a very young woman when she wrote this (it was the first of her novels to be published , in 1950  but was written years before), and I'm amazed at how well she captures the poignancy of middle age spinsterhood at her young age. She later said the novel "proved therapeutic, and helped her release some feelings she had been having difficulty with at the time." One can only imagine what those might have been.

Pym's novels all extol the virtues of life in the English countryside, and she has been compared to a modern day Jane Austen with her keen eye to manners and relationships. If you love Austen, you will enjoy Pym. She examined relationships -especially unrequited love - with an amusing and loving eye. Her work is laced with a deliciously ironic sense of humor, and I alternately laugh and cry about her characters the quietly absurd situations in which they find themselves.

2013 is Pym's centenary, and apparently LibraryThing is hosting a year long reading event to coincide. I first read about it at Ali's blog so decided to join in. I've had several of Pym's books on my shelves since the early 1990's when a friend introduced me to her. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to re-read my favorites and introduce myself to the rest. I also hope to read a bit more about Pym herself.

Here is the reading list if you're interested in joining in this event:

• January 2013 Some Tame Gazelle (1950)

• February 2013 Excellent Women (1952) • March 2013 Jane and Prudence (1953) • April 2013Less than Angels (1955) • May 2013 A Glass of Blessings (1958) • June 2013 No Fond Return of Love (1961) • June 2013Quartet in Autumn (1977) • July 2013The Sweet Dove Died (1978) • August 2013 A Few Green Leaves (1980) • September 2013Crampton Hodnet (completed circa 1940, published 1985) • October 2013 An Unsuitable Attachment (written 1963; published posthumously, 1982) • November 2013 An Academic Question (written 1970-72; published 1986) • December 2013 Civil to Strangers (written 1936; published posthumously, 1989)

There's An App for That

Last night we were channel surfing and happened across Piers Morgan speaking with Ariana Huffington about gun control. I was impressed with some of her comments on that subject, but then she spoiled it all by changing the subject to new technology. She was speaking from the 2013 Consumer Electronics Show, being held in one of my favorite (not!) cities - Las Vegas. According to Ariana, the focus for consumer electronics this year is on health and wellness, and she introduced the Huffington Post's new app in this genre called, appropriately, "GPS for the Soul."

Based on something called "HeartMath," the app is designed to help you enter into a state of "coherence." You can read all the details at their website, but the basic idea is that our heart rate varies throughout the day, and these variations can be caused by emotional and physical factors. The naturally occurring HRV (heart rate variations) are not all alike, however. Those caused by  pleasing factors are of a different and more healthy nature than those caused by stressful or emotionally unpleasant situations. The positive changes in HRV lead to a state of "coherence" of heart, mind, and body.

It is that state to which we should aspire.

And yes, there is an app for that.

When you detect that your heart is in a state of IN-congruence, when your soul has lost its way, simply whip out your phone, dial up the GPS for the Soul app, and there you will find some lovely paintings, music, inspirational sayings, and all sorts of nifty digital ways to dial down your emotional stress and put your heart back into a state of congruence, thereby restoring your soul to its "center".

Friends, might I suggest an alternative? How about a walk outside, or listening to some music, or petting your dog? Why not try reading some poetry or knitting a sweater? For some, a good game of racquetball or tennis might be effective. Others might prefer to bake or throw pots or pull weeds in the garden.

In other words, aren't there a lot of non-digital ways to relax when we're stressed? Must we have an electronic solution for everything??

I hope we haven't become so dependent on our technology that we can't even unwind without it telling us how.

That thought alone is enough to put my heart into a permanent state of incongruence, one that no amount of apps could fix.

Out With the Old...

Today I had to get a new library card. One would not think that would be an emotional event.

However, I have had a library card from the Redford Township District Library since I was six years old. That means I was a library patron for over 50 years.

But today, I had to relinquish my Redford Library card and get a new one for the Northville District Library, here in my new town.

I've been dreading this, with the dread that only a sentimental book lover could understand. I spent countless hours in the Redford Library. It was my hangout in the summers, where I gleefully participated in the summer reading programs. It was the first place I drove solo when I got my drivers license. (I know, I'm a geek.) And then when my son was little, he and I would take frequent trips to the library on our bikes, usually stopping at Donutown for libations on the way back.

So more than just bookish memories were associated with my library card, although there were certainly plenty of those too. The Redford Library was the place I discovered the Betsy-Tacy books by Maud Hart Lovelace, and Madeleine L'Engle's work for readers of all ages. It was the place I could always find the best new releases, and, in recent years, was able to take full advantage of their computerized hold services to make sure I got them immediately.

One of the things I've been most surprised at during this moving process and the inevitable culling of possession it has entailed, is the things that mean the most to me. They often were not the most expensive items in the house - the crystal serving pieces or the lace tablecloths. What I really hated to part with were things like the scratched pyrex bowls I used to stir up brownie and cookie batter or the stainless steel cutlery we ate from every day for 37 years. The worn flannel blankets my grandmother used when she was in a nursing home. The throw pillows on my bed that I propped my head on to read in the morning.

The library card I've used ever since I learned to read.

A new home demands new things, and I have enjoyed gathering bright, shiny new feathers for this little nest. But there is suddenly a tiny whole in my heart for some of those well-used, well-loved pieces of daily living that were part of of my old life. And I suspect there always will be.

The Sunday Salon: Epiphany

Today is Epiphany, a day  on which Christians commemorate the revelation of Jesus' divinity as evidenced by the Three Magi who traveled to Bethlehem bearing gifts for the newborn King. Epiphany was recognized as an official celebration in the church calendar before the end of the second century, even before the Christmas holiday was established. In fact, until the fourth century, January 6 was the day set aside to celebrate Christ's birth, and the Armenian church still celebrates Christmas on January 6 ~ so Merry Christmas to my Armenian family and friends :) Aside from its religious connotation, the word epiphany also refers to revelations in thought, and often conjures that cartoon image of a light bulb appearing overhead. For readers, many epiphanous moments come from books. Whether fiction or non-fiction, the words of writers and thinkers inspire us to open our hearts and encourage us to think.

Last week I read Help Thanks Wow, Anne Lamott's new book about what she terms "the three essential prayers." Lamott's writing always reveals something to me, at the very least a totally different slant on a familiar subject. I'm such a straight arrow thinker, reading Lamott is like standing my familiar concepts on their head and seeing that they suddenly make a lot more sense.

And  that what epiphanies are all about - seeing something we knew all along, but in a different way, opening our eyes to a truth we've been too blind or stubborn or fearful to notice.

"Revelation is not for the faint at heart," Lamott writes. "Some of us with tiny paranoia issues think that so much information and understanding is being withheld from us - by colleagues, by family, by life, by God - knowledge that would save us, and help us break the code and enable us to experience life with peace and amusement. But in our quieter moments we remember that (1) there are no codes, and (b) if you are paying attention, plenty is being revealed. We are too often distracted by the need to burnish our surfaces, to look good so that other people won't know what screwed up messes we, or our mates or kid or finances, are. But if you gently help yourself back to the present moment, you see how life keeps stumbling along and how you may actually find your way through another ordinary or impossible day. Details are being revealed, and they will take you out of yourself, which is heaven, and you will have a story to tell, which is salvation that again and again saves us, the way Jesus saves some people, or sobriety does. Stories to hear or tell - either way it's medicine. The Word."

Our stories hold so many revelations, tiny epiphanies sent to reframe the truth as we've known it.

What stories are you reading this week? Any epiphanies for you in them?

Following Yonder Star

When I was studying piano, lo those many years ago, my teacher wrote my lesson in a spiral notebook each week. She would list the things I was to practice (Major scales, two octaves, hands together, Czerny Number 5, with metronome 120, Mozart Sonata in G Major, First Movement...) and sometimes put notations about specific areas to focus on in my practice time (Dynamics in the Mozart, even tempo for the 16th notes in the Czerny, so slow down if you need to!)  She kept a box of little gold stars at the side of the piano, an at the end of the lesson each week (if my performance rated it) she would place a gold adhesive star on the notebook page for that week's lesson.

People, I craved those gold stars SO much. To the very last lesson I took from her (when I was 19 years old and engaged to be married!) I still sat with bated breath on that piano bench wondering if she would nonchalantly reach into the box, pluck out a gold star, touch it to the tip of her tongue and place it on my notebook. (She did.)

My husband, who was also one of her students, has said the same thing. That tiny mark of approbation, usually given with no other fanfare than a satisfied nod of her perfectly coiffed hair, was worth a million dollars.

I still think most people (especially children) respond better to positive reinforcement than negative consequences. One of the most successful strategies I ever used to get my son to clean up his room was the ribbon reward system. Each night I "inspected" his room, and if it passed muster, he got a ribbon. At the end of the week, if he had seven ribbons, he was allowed to pick a prize. The prizes weren't "things," but certificates he could cash in for a trip to the arcade, or for staying up an hour past bedtime, or a game of Candyland. This worked to help him get in the habit of picking up his toys and see that there were positive rewards for cleanliness! (Well, it worked until he was a teenager, and then all bets were off in the room cleaning department.)

In that same way, my piano teachers little gold stars gave me the extra impetus to practice my lesson each week. The star meant I had pleased her, and because I respected her, I wanted very much to earn her affirmation.

As grown ups, we don't get a lot of gold stars. More often than not, we only hear about the stuff we do wrong. Deep down inside, I think most of us are still tender hearted enough to need a little soul-stroking once in a while, even if it's for something as simple as preparing a meal or remembering to take out the trash without being reminded.

It's the little gold stars that give us the impetus to keep going, even when the going is difficult and we think we'll never make it through.

Here's hoping someone puts one on your spiral notebook today.