A Minor Epiphany and A Book Review

I'm sitting in the lounge at the Land's End Hotel, at the end of the spit in Homer, which is 'the end of the road,' the location of the Kachemak Bay Writers' Conference. I'm registered, have my tote bag and name tag, and ended up signed up in the first slot for the open mike to read some poetry! Excited, nervous, anticipatory.

The Naturopath reiterated yesterday that I need to eat more, and specifically more protein, and that a lot of the residual symptoms I'm experiencing will improve if I do. So, my minor epiphany (helped, I'm sure, by the fact that I've been writing (poetry) this week, which always makes life feel better): if eating more will make me feel better, isn't it worth a try?!?! There is such a strong equation between raw-foodism and asceticism, and it's so easy for me to slip back into 'scarcity mode,' but really, what's not to like about feeling better? I don't want to go into too much detail on this because I want to get on to the book review, but another helpful comment from the Naturopath was that the nausea that I frequently experience after eating, and that encourages me to always eat less, is very possibly a 'habitual' response from my body, who has become used to associating food with ill feeling. So, if I can actively work against the nausea, maybe the food can actually do some good!

OK - without further ado, the first of two book reviews that I want to share this week.

On David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas 

This 529-page novel is a little hard to get into, but it blew me away! And I wouldn't call myself an easy grader as a reader. It's the best novel by some way that I've read in a long while, and I've been reading some really good ones just recently.

Like other Postmodern novelists such as Haruki Murakami and David Foster Wallace, Mitchell's style is intensely virtuosic, multifarious, speaking in many tongues, vocalizing many voices, accents, idioms. Like those others, he exploits strange and tenuous connections as focalizing points that link different parts of the story together, and makes bizarre and abrupt changes of scene with a mere spandrel of connection between them.

But unlike them, he writes as if there is a deep, underlying message, as if he cares about communicating that message, as if it really matters to him. I often come away from Postmodern novels dazzled by the brilliance, awed by the virtuosity, but thinking 'So what? What happened and what was the point?' (and I do understand that often that is precisely the point.) Reading Cloud Atlas, I experienced all the dazzle and the awe, but also a deep impression that I was receiving something significant that would stay with me a long time, almost to the level of something like Ursula LeGuin's The Dispossessed.

I mentioned that it's a little hard to get into. This is because of the ring-composition or 'Russian Doll' structure of the composition. The novel consists of six novellas, each set in vastly different places, times and genres, from the 19th century South Seas to a post-apocalyptic Hawaii via 1930's Belgium, the West Coast of the USA in the 1970's, present-day England and near-future Korea. Genres are journal, letters, thriller, film/memoir, interview, oral storytelling. The first five novellas segue into one another without warning (the first gives way to the second in the middle of a sentence, for example) and we then get the second half of each of these in reverse order after the central novella. (Might be interesting to go back and read each novella beginning to end.) Each novella is referred to in its successor, so that each of them is a real world within itself that is later reduced to a work of fiction: fascinating self-referentiality. The 'Russian Doll' structure is also frequently referenced in subliminal moments, as well as the number six as the dominant feature in the weave.

This all means that Mitchell - and we - are dealing with six different sets of characters, six different genres, six different scenarios, six different dialects/language uses, even. Where there are moments of stereotyping and pastiche of course, I find myself able to forgive it readily: with such sharp contrasts at work, it's sometimes good to write it large. And whilst the poignant beauty of expression and the enormity of the deeper meaning sometimes brought tears to my eyes, I also cried with laughter at the masterfully overdone tale of woe at the hands of British Rail in the fourth novella.

Some small concerns: there is free use of quotations in languages other than English, and the whole of the sixth novella is written in a created post-apocalyptic version of Hawaiian pidgin, with apostrophes everywhere for elided and omitted sounds: very busy on the page, which makes it hard to read and maybe hard for someone who isn't a linguist to follow. I'll put my cards on the table: I love all of this: for me, it's an enrichment, it makes me engage more deeply with the text. But, I'm a linguist and multilingual enough to be able to understand the quotations in other European languages at least (I don't remember any Korean-language quotations, but if the characters' names had deeper meanings that would have gone over my head). And I know that that particular element of the virtuosity, the bewilderingly adept code-switching and the quotations, might be alienating for some. 

I guess he has an audience in mind and that's who he targets.  It's definitely me. You too?

I am so grateful to have read this, because of the double inspiration I received from it. First, I'm inspired by the beauty and virtuosity of the writing. Second, and perhaps more important, I'm inspired by the depth of the message conveyed through the storytelling: the care for life and its unfoldings. It gives me the hope that I may be able to do something like that with my writings too.

Anyone else read this? I recommend it so highly. For something completely different, I devoured his next novel, 'Black Swan Green,' in a single evening. It is totally different, being told through one single perspective, that of a 13-year old boy in small-town west England. But delightfully enough, several characters from Cloud Atlas are encountered in the course of the story, at very different stages of their lives from those in which they appear in it.

Here are some links I have found online about David Mitchell:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Mitchell_(author)

http://www.contemporarywriters.com/authors/?p=auth03A30M451712634910

http://www.threemonkeysonline.com/als/_david_mitchell_cloud_atlas_interview.html

http://network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/afterword/archive/2009/08/01/q-amp-a-with-david-mitchell-author-of-cloud-atlas.aspx

Why Blog?

I think everyone whose blog I read has wondered why they do it at some point, triggered by an insensitive comment, harassed by time pressures, or just feeling like it's gotten 'old.' Presumably it's a good idea to periodically re-evaluate the worth of anything that we put a lot of time into. I am really trying to do my best, both with writing this blog and with life in general, and between a hurtful comment from a friend, my husband's skepticism of the value of blogging, and my own feeling of being overwhelmed with things to do, it's a good time to ask this question. My initial reaction to the hurtful comment and to my husband's skepticism, I'm afraid, has been annoyance and digging my heels in. 'I want to write my blog and you're not going to stop me' -style childish defiance. So, in the interests of 'doing better,' here are some thoughts about 'why' that are hopefully more mature than that.

First of all, I write because I need to write. Half the time, I don't really know what I'm thinking or feeling until I've been writing about it. Often, when everything feels crazy, if I sit down and do some creative writing, work on some poems, or even just journal, it takes me into a much happier and saner place. It also allows me to like myself more, which motivates me to take better care of myself. In other words, I love to write. This also answers my husband's question of this morning, of why I write 'morning pages' quasi-religiously every morning.

But there is more, of course. I want to share of myself, through my words: to give friends, loved ones, family, and anyone else who might be interested (who is probably just a more distant or yet-to-be-discovered friend or loved-one or family) a window into this fascinating, crazy life and world that I experience, and to open myself to the opportunity to learn from and share and connect with them in return. Having moved around so much, I have so many dear friends and family members all over the place, with whom I want to share. Since writing is my preferred mode of sharing, isn't this a good way to do it?

One of my husband's main complaints about the blog is that it isn't face-to-face connection with 'real' people. He seems to think that you have to be 'into blogging' in order even to think about going to read someone's blog, negating the possibility that our friends or family might just go look up my blog and see what we've been up to lately. And the hurtful comment I received kind of supports that. I had emailed a friend a month ago, briefly mentioned that I'd been in an accident (the truck/blizzard accident when I was driving the bees down here at the end of April), and also mentioned that I'd written about it in detail in my blog, which they know about. After a while, I got an email back saying 'don't expect me to be keeping up with your life through your blog.' I found this hurtful because I wasn't expecting anything, just letting them know that if they were curious what had happened, I had written about it here. I have so little time online and want to share to the max. Maybe I am being oversensitive, but I felt a subtle accusation of narcissism underscoring the fact that something I was offering was being thrown back in my face. 

Of course, I agree with Phil that making friends here and connecting with real people up here is a good idea. And I am making some efforts to do that, and am also hoping that having my online home here  might facilitate that by giving people another handle on me. This recent rejection of that has given me some second thoughts. 

And then, there's the whole food thing. There aren't many people who live here who are into living foods - hardly any, in fact. And I love this mode of sharing. Whilst I no longer think at all, like I did for a few years a long time ago, that I can only really relate to people who are raw foodists (witness the fact that I'm married to someone who isn't!) I do think that people who are drawn to that tend to have many other things in common also, and I really enjoy being able to immerse myself in that vibe. 

Since, unfortunately, I've been unable to convince Phil as yet that the raw food milieu is a separate issue from residual eating disorder issues and is a vibrant and healthy way of being, it's not likely that this reason for blogging would be very convincing to him. But for me, it's still a good reason.

Now, I don't want to spend too much time on my blog on posts like this! I don't want to be self-reflexive, self obsessed, narcissistic, maudlin or self-pitying. Or redundant! What I do want is to take a sober look at why I do what I do, make sure that it is serving the highest good, and re-evaluate if it isn't. I know that oftentimes I'm too invested in whatever it is that I'm doing to be truly objective about it. But if I feel like I love to do something and that it's serving, is it wrong to continue with it? A serious question - and if you see any chinks in my assumed objectivity and want to point them out, I'd be most grateful for that also.

Feeling Lucky/Creating Our Reality

This is going to be a short and impromptu post because we're driving back home today and I probably won't get online again until tomorrow.

I want to explore the idea of 'getting messages from the universe' and creating our reality.  When I logged on yesterday, I learned that I had been one of the winners of a 'Vega' shake-n-go protein powder sample from Averie's 'Love Veggies and Yoga' blog. This was a really powerful message for me for two reasons. First, I haven't tended to think of myself as lucky, and usually haven't entered giveaways, etc, because I've had no faith that I'd win. In this case, I dared myself to participate because I also wanted to support what Averie does with her blog, and really was interested in the product also. These additional reasons and just making the effort to participate seem to have rewarded me with the experience of feeling that I can be lucky sometimes too! Second, as I said, I admire Averie's energy, upbeat positivity, no-nonsense attitude, clarity, and many other attributes so much. Whilst I recognize that we are very different people, there are so many things that I see in her that I feel I should cultivate in myself. So, a great transfer of energy, and at a good time also.

How much of this is just serendipity, and how much of it is a sign from the universe helping me to create my reality for my highest good, which is also the good of all? I have been musing on this back and forth for some time - even one of the poems I posted a couple of weeks ago is about just that thing - and it's a constant question. (And what is the message of the fact that the internet in this cafe seems to be sketchy - I may not even get to post this before I have to leave?!)

I really want to believe that I can create my own reality in my highest good, for the good of all, but I recognize that I also fear the responsibility that entails, especially considering all the ill that I have wished myself and given myself when I have been depressed. What an amazing responsibility, to invite what is good into our lives, and also to swear off the negativity and ill-wishing, recognizing that it is truly damaging. I don't believe 'sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me:' I think I've been more hurt by words than by any painful accident or all the painful digestive troubles, both words from others and words to myself. Why would I keep choosing that? It takes time to break a habit, even a horrible one, but looking at it this way helps to motivate me to break it.

The View From Here/Up For This Week

The View From Here

We're in Anchorage again for appointments and shopping and visiting with friends. Hoping to get a little more light shed on Phil's continuingly recurrent and debilitating vertigo problem. Maybe trying to help sort my crazy head out a bit too. 

This disorientingly sudden summer means it's snowing apple blossoms up here in Anchorage, dandelion flowers are everywhere and all the birds are fighting either to mate with one another or eat one another's young ahead of the game. The whole of the vertebrate kingdom, we are acting like a bunch of superheated insects, moving faster faster faster quick get everything done before it starts freezing again in two or three months! Our allies the plants are acting just the same, and since up here in Anchorage it gets both hotter and colder than it does down in Homer, the 'window of movement' is even smaller and perhaps it isn't surprising that everything is a little farther along here than back at home. Flowers are more 'out,' mallard ducklings barely ducklings anymore, cabbages and parsleys full size rather than just having their first pair of true leaves like the ones in our raised beds at home. 

But it is quite glorious. Sunshine, over 60 degrees, and even approaching 70 yesterday evening - and with the sun out and bright, these relatively cool temperatures are all warmer than they would be in the SF Bay Area where I used to live, for example. Another strange thing is how late in the day it gets truly warm. 6 or 7pm is often the true 'high noon.' Circadian rhythms what? And yet I seem to be very attached to my circadian rhythms and to stick to them anyway. I'm wondering if it's a detriment to spontaneity that I'm seeming to need such rhythm in my life. I don't feel well when the schedule is chaotic, I can't eat a whole load of food 'up front' so that I won't need to for hours after, like some people do, nor can I eat super early or super late to compensate for missed mealtimes. I feel somewhat of a failure, or at least a misfit, for that: people who really thrive up here often seem to have more of that flexibility. At least I can say I've tried.

Up For This Week

The produce from the Lower 48, which Alaskans call 'Outside,' is that bit fresher up here in the big town. Fred Meyer was fragrant  with peaches today - I insisted that Phil should have one. And I bought a jicama that turns out to be so sweet it's almost candy! Sweet, juicy, crunchy, fresh... Jicama is wonderful - I almost can't believe that it is so low in calories and carbs. The bigger ones are always better: smaller usually means picked too early, woody, less juicy. 

Well, aside from waxing lyrical about a leguminous tuber from Mexico that I never saw on the continent on which I grew up, and which some folks in Hawaii chose not to grow because they deemed it too low-caloric to be worth the effort (now, there's a thought!) - this week I'm getting in gear for the Kachemak Bay Writers' Conference. It'll last Friday 11th through Tues 15th. My first writing conference, and I'm so excited and also somewhat apprehensive. I really hope to meet some potential mentors and friends, and I'm really apprehensive about it being cliquey and closed-up, and of being too shy myself, or too dorky, or too passionate about obscure rhyming schemes, or too trendy in my attire. We have hit the thrift shops here in town, though, and in addition to my usual black pants, black turtlenecks, black hoodies, Phil persuaded me to get a very cute squashy billed cap with a checkered pattern in colors I wouldn't normally have chosen, but which puts some color in with the black and which he says makes me look very cute! 

So another of the main 'up for this week's' is contemplating the possibility of being 'cute,' paying attention to my appearance and recognizing that first impressions are important when you meet people. Can you believe I'm 33 and only just starting to figure this out? Dirty hippy girl… It seems like most girls whose blogs I read are professionals at all of this: is anyone else clueless like me, or got clued up really late on? Aside from when performing in plays a few times, I've only worn make up four or five times in my life. Never had my nails done. Been to a hairdresser maybe five times ever. Anyone else like this?

This week I'm also intending to finally buy a camera - can take a pic of that hat and some other things too - all the wonderful, galloping plant life…

As the writers' conference looms, I'm going to post a couple of (non-food-related) book reviews this week, books I've recently read that have had a positive impact on me: one, because it talks about why it's not a good idea to be hopeless and check out of life, and the other, because of its sheer artistic genius. Not words I use lightly.

My appeal to the collective consciousness/mind/brain trust is for advice on how to 'get moving.' Even allowing for my low energy levels, it is taking me forever to get things done at the moment. Important phone calls are not getting made. Incubating poems become phantom pregnancies through neglect. Seeds get planted days later than I intended to do it. The only person who would call me lazy is myself, and only when I'm being unfair. And yet I can't seem to get stuff done. Advice? A bigger question, that I'll address more in one of the book reviews, is how to figure out what our life's purpose is. Is there a still, small voice that you hear? Or is it all just a rat race?

'Theme and Variations' 4: Little On-the-Spot Snacks/'Puddings'

Well, another theme to this 'theme and variations' series of mine seems to be the lack of a good name for some of my staple food items! I guess this is the flip side of my observation that I often mention, that people who eat a 'standard' diet and don't think about what they eat are often so attached to a prototypical 'named' food, which must always taste the same every time, and be paired with the right partner, or else it's unacceptable. (Bacon and eggs, corned beef and rye - many of them I'd never even heard of before I met my husband - or, smoothies must be ice cold or else they're undrinkable, etc.) This has made it very hard for me to imagine winning people over with rawified 'pizza,' 'lasagna,' etc - even the desserts need some explanation. My flip side is that lots of things that I eat on a regular basis don't even fall under a generic characterization (like 'salad,') - far less a prototypical rendition with a standard list of expected ingredients (like 'caesar salad'.) 

Theme

Of course, salad itself is one of my main staples, and will be part of another 'theme and variations' post. But for this week, the 'theme' is a little snack, mixed together on the spot from superfood powders, spices, omega-3 seeds, etc. This is a 'make at home to eat at home with a spoon' snack, not a take-and-go. It can be mixed together in a small bowl or mason jar, but I often make such a small amount that I mix it up and eat it from a jar lid!

My basic 'theme' for it at the moment is coconut kefir, a little coconut butter, some flax seed meal or chia seeds, and spices and superfoods.

Variations

Here are some favorite combinations:

Couple tablespoons coconut kefir, 1/2 teaspoon coconut butter, scoop of flaxseed meal, teaspoon each of maca and mesquite, cinnamon, cardamom, bee pollen;

First three ingredients above plus a few chopped goji berries;

First three ingredients and some ginger, cardamom and spirulina;

Couple tablespoons coconut kefir, couple tablespoons chia gel or 'chia-sweet,' cardamom, rose water, teaspoon almond butter;

(Especially if I've just been exercising): add some hemp or pea protein powder and some kefir whey to any of these mixtures.

Animal Antics

I forgot to mention that I got attacked by a crow on the way to the library yesterday! A young teen, probably pissed off with the world in general, or maybe something had gotten him in a particular snit, deciding to take it out on an innocent passerby! Mostly, it was a verbally abusive assault and I didn't pay much attention. However, by the third time he had swooped over my head almost low enough to knock my hat off, I was definitely taking notice. I wasn't as freaked out as I might have expected to be - more intrigued, really, but as this continued I was in danger of taking it personally and was definitely glad when I made it to the library.

Phil incurred something similar a week ago when he noticed a crows' nest in town and couldn't refrain from climbing up the tree to investigate and see if he could steal an egg. A wonderful little boy at heart, my almost-62-year-old husband! He got buzzed plenty, but you might agree that he had provoked them sorely. When I told him of my attack, he said they must have recognized me as part of his clan! But then agreed that it was probably just a disaffected adolescent getting a kick out of being mean. Corvids - they're so like humans in so many ways...

[Edit: I left the library after posting that, walked down to the post office, and sure enough, had the same crow attack scenario all over again! Was glad that Phil picked me up at the post office so I didn't have to walk back to the library for more! And then this afternoon, I was sitting in the library and heard a big crow harangue. Phil came in - he'd gone to the post office before coming to the library - and guess what? His turn for crow attack...]

A few days ago, I was getting lunch ready and Phil was looking out at the sea otters and their babies gambolling in the waves close to shore (yes, what a wonderful view we have). I was keeping half an eye on the same, and in the moment that I saw a black triangle break through the surf surface, Phil said, 'It's a killer whale!' 'No way,' I said, incredulous. But it was. In fact there were three of them (a 'tri-pod,' I quipped). I couldn't believe my eyes because they were so close into shore and it was a very big low tide right at that time. All the sea otters scarpered. Fast. The orcas were around in water so shallow that they never quite disappeared for another half hour or so, and it looked like they were having a feast: perhaps not all the otters got away.
Next time we saw the sea otters, they were bunched up together as tight as could possibly be - safety in numbers.

Words can't really describe the excitement of getting to observe a scene like that. It was just so sudden and extraordinary, to see such powerful and massive creatures so close to shore. Of course, we're perched on the top of the bluff 250ft higher up, so it's not like we got real close - in fact, the binoculars were helpful. But whereas Phil is constantly looking out far off, scanning, surveying, I have more of a closer focus and inward tendency, and this sort of event reminds me to look out far: there's no telling what amazing event might be going on down there. And then, of course, it wasn't an amazing event to the participants: they were just getting on with their lives. But not many humans get to be witness to that kind of life: it's a broadening thing just to be a witness to it.

Extempore - Inspiration

I mentioned internal transitions yesterday. It has a lot to do with trying to figure out 'what I'm here for' and how to be my best. This is so much more powerful a way of thinking than the pathetic, apathetic helplessness I found myself falling into. Health challenges, especially when accompanied by the recognition of one's own responsibility in creating them in one's life, and of the likelihood that these patterns will continue and sabotage, are maybe better viewed as a crisis point, that impetus of coming up to a high ridge, pushing a heavy load all the way, and then over the other side everything becoming much better. I'm entertaining that possibility of breaking long-standing habits, changing long-standing ways of orienting myself to the world, and actually believing that I can make myself better, so that I can do more good in the world.

My mum called me on Sunday and gave me a good 'talking to,' along the lines that it's never too late to change oneself around, that I'm actually potentially in the 'prime' of my life, although that window is getting smaller, and that I need to get back with it. It was like the voice of my conscience and I feel so honored to have such a wise mother!

This morning, I did an interview with a very prominent raw food teacher, which will be published in the July edition of the Eighty Percent Raw Magazine - don't forget the June edition is just out today! I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to talk with this man - I'll tell more about it later, no doubt, but I don't want to steal any thunder ahead of time! But it was a message of self-love and of connection with the fact that each of us is here to do something special and wonderful - once again, a message congruent with the avenues of myself that I have been exploring. It is a wonderful serendipity that I feel so inspired and personally helped through having performed the interview in order to share his message with many other people.

Has anyone else had experience of 'coming out the other side' of a dark night of the soul? And has the universe conspired to bring you just the messages that you need to hear in order to find your way out?