Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2003 4:27 am
Another book I'm currently reading, though definitely not for "entertainment" is "Habit of Blues" by Judith Fitzgerald. The back cover [again, presumably the publisher, The Mercury Press Poetry] says, "Habit of Blues completes Rapturous Chronicles." I've read the latter and am now completing the grief cycle cathartically "chronicled" between the two books. The books surround the death by suicide of a deeply-loved one. This is not entertaining reading, but for anyone who has experienced the suicide of someone deeply loved by them, they will recognize the compulsion of unanswered questioning and rearranged endings, that the whole of one's being is desperate to replace dreadful reality with. She works to come to terms with truths, memories, and realities ~ with grieving, dignity, and grace.
The lines "You who wish to conquer pain, you must learn.....learn......to serve me.....well" come to mind, with "me" being the pain itself. In this book, as well as the first, Judith goes deep down into the well of pain, past the shards of glass and barbed wire that intrude on all available space, the length of the narrow, dark hole. She splices words apart, and splices them together, to create concepts that emerge as pathways, to the dimensions from where pain originates. She turns pain inside out and studies it from every angle imaginable, to both serve it well and conquer it. It is not light reading.
Next, I will be reading "Marshall McLuhan / Wise Guy," also by Judith Fitzgerald, which promises to be delightful. She regularly brings the vastness of the English language into the palm of your hands.
Another current favourite is Rumi's poetry, of which I have several books.
The lines "You who wish to conquer pain, you must learn.....learn......to serve me.....well" come to mind, with "me" being the pain itself. In this book, as well as the first, Judith goes deep down into the well of pain, past the shards of glass and barbed wire that intrude on all available space, the length of the narrow, dark hole. She splices words apart, and splices them together, to create concepts that emerge as pathways, to the dimensions from where pain originates. She turns pain inside out and studies it from every angle imaginable, to both serve it well and conquer it. It is not light reading.
Next, I will be reading "Marshall McLuhan / Wise Guy," also by Judith Fitzgerald, which promises to be delightful. She regularly brings the vastness of the English language into the palm of your hands.
Another current favourite is Rumi's poetry, of which I have several books.
~ thanks for that info, Margaret. Yes, she looks virtually the same as she did when John was killed. I think it's the [in a general sense] nature of Oriental's skin, just as with Black's skin, with a higher oil content, darker skin, whatever ~ it doesn't age in the same way that Caucasian skin does. Hair seems to keep its colour longer, too. At least some of it I consider to be diet-related with Orientals. I've seen Yoko speak several times and enjoy her so much. She has the same kind of seriousness as a female as Leonard does as a male. So much that is not being said, yet is conveyed in its depth, with what is being said.
