Borrowing From Elizabeth Gilbert

 

October 28, 2015. Sharing this post as part of a book blog hop. Thanks for reading! To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog, click here: 

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I have an imaginary relationship with Elizabeth Gilbert. It started with my widow book. I had never heard of Ms. Gilbert before and then about the time my book was finished there was a huge hoopla about her book Eat, Pray, Love.  She was trying to find herself after a divorce. I was trying to find myself as a new widow. She spoke to God. I wrote short quirky notes to God. I saw similarities in our stories, small ones, and wondered why my book didn't become a best seller. I was very naïve then. So humor me with my ignorance! I wasn't sure I liked her when I started reading her book. Then I saw a TED talk where she spoke on your elusive, creative genius. I watched in awe and from that moment on I have respected her and probably wanted to be her! But not for her fame - for her grace and eloquence. This past week she blew me away again with her writing. I had to borrow her post from Facebook and share it here. In the face of tragedy she has nailed it. I don't know.  Every day we are flooded with horrific news both on the national and personal level. What do you say? What can you do?  I don't know. Elizabeth Gilbert writes just that. I don't know. . . . but I will sit here with you through this.

Those words may become my mantra.  I do know her post reminded me of my first year as a widow, when I was lost. My friends did not offer advice, they sat with me, they made me get out of the house, they showed their love by being there for me in my darkest hours. They were there for me as I worked back into the light.

Elizabeth Gilbert, once again you have wowed me with your words and insight. Thank you for your beautiful post.



Dear Ones -
I woke up yesterday in joy, and went to bed in sorrow.
I woke up yesterday to the delightful news that my book was a #1 bestseller, and went to bed heartbroken and shaken by the awful news of yet another mass-shooting in America.
I won't be writing a political message here today. The internet is filled with outraged people arguing with each other this morning, and I can't bring myself to contribute more argument to the world right now.
This morning, I'm just writing to say: I don't know.
My heart is broken, and I don't know what to do about it — in the same way that I don't know what to do about the plight of the Syrian refugees, or the rise of ISIS, or the deterioration of the Sudan, or the stubborn endurance of racism, or the onslaught of climate change.
I don't know. I don't know how to fix any of it.
I do know this, though: I know that great joy and great sorrow have something in common, which is: they both cause us to overflow. Joy and sorrow are emotions that make us SPILL — because they are too big for us to contain.
I always know what to do with my overflow of joy — that's easy: You dance it out, you laugh it out, you celebrate, you cheer, you pop the champagne.
I don't always know what to do with my overflow of sorrow. Last night, alone in a hotel room, I lay awake for hours, overflowing in too much sadness to handle. I found myself saying again and again to God, "I don't know what any of this is for, but please help us."
I also found myself thinking about a beautiful young woman at one of my speaking events recently, who asked me how — after a recent devastating personal loss — she is meant to go on. She asked me what God intends, by making her suffer so much? I don't know what her loss was, but I could see by her face, it was very bad.
What was that loss FOR?
The answer is: I don't know.
I don't know what suffering and sorrow and injustice and brutality and loss are FOR.
It's so easy to know what joy and happiness and love and grace are FOR — they are to be celebrated and shared. Joy and good fortune seem to be proof of our divine blessings — proof that God is smiling upon you, proof that you are being looked after, proof that your angels are protecting you, proof that life is fair.
But what is suffering for?
I always hate the simple, reductive answers people often offer up about suffering — because I feel like those answers sometimes only bring more sorrow to those who are in pain.
To blithely say that "This is God's will," in the face of terrible events, seems cruel to me. (Or worse, to say "This is God's punishment!" — Lord help us, what a brutal and inhumane statement.)
To tell a mother whose child has died, "God must have wanted another angel," is almost too awful to bear.
To say, "Well, that must be karma", is also terrible and dismissive. You might as well just shrug at someone's unbearable pain and say, "Hey, shit happens, man."
To say, "Someday this will make you stronger," to someone who is at their weakest? No. Don't ever say that.
To say, "Maybe this tragedy will open up people's eyes about what's going on, and so your child's death won't have been in vain!" is to use another human's life as a political tool. Which is just monstrous.
To say to someone who is being asked to endure the worst sorrow of their lives: "God never gives us more than we can handle!" is so outrageously hurtful, I don't know how anyone ever got to the end of that sentence without being punched in the face.
People seem awfully confident at times, speaking on behalf of God's agenda.
I don't where people get their confidence, to say that they know what God is up to. I don't make such presumptions. In the face of outrageous sorrow, I can only say, "I don't know."
And once we have said that — "I don't know" — then we have reached the end of ourselves. Then, maybe all we can do is sit in silence with the person who is suffering, or with the people who are suffering, and just say, "I will stay here with you."
That's easier to do on the intimate scale than the global scale, but I feel like that's what the great compassionate souls have always done. They say to a sorrowful world: "I don't know why this is happening. But I will stay here with you. I will sit beside you. I see your pain, and although I don't know how to solve it, I will be here with you."
The great compassionate souls always take their overflow of sorrow and turn it into love.
I don't have any answers for anyone today. This is one of those days for me when the world overwhelms, and I feel very small.
But when the world starts to feel overwhelming in its sorrows, I always ask myself to look around me — to narrow down my focus — and to notice somebody who is nearby me, who is suffering. I can't help the millions, but maybe I can help one. You never have to look very far to find a suffering soul. Life is hard; there is always someone going through great pain. I tell myself: Go sit with that person today for a while. Don't try to solve their life, or answer for God, or offer dismissive "reasons", or try fix the whole world. Just say, "I don't know. But I will sit with you through this."
Turn your overflow of sorrow into love. That's the only thing I know how to do sometimes.
Love and blessings,
Liz

Addendum 10/28/2015 More Inspiration from Elizabeth Gilbert.

I am currently reading her new book Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear . Awesomeness! It's a collection of very short essays on different topics, divided into six sections: Courage, Enchantment, Permission, Persistence, Trust, and Divinity. The perfect inspiration for artists but especially so for writers. Oh, Elizabeth, I do so want to be you!

Remember this post is part of Julie Valerie's Book Blog Hop. Visit other posts
http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-oct-2015/

Have a wonderful creative and fun day! Share what you are working on in comments and what is inspiring you!

My Spoonful of Sugar - Antiques And A Book Discovery

 

 Jan 28th - Re-sharing this post as part of Julie Valerie's Hump Day Blog Hop.  Like to party? Hop along the Hump Day Blog Hop on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog. Click here to return to the Hump Day Blog Hop.

 

Mary Poppins sings: Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.  While I am not a sugar addict, I am addicted to other things that help the medicine go down. I had a chance to re-discover this over the Christmas holidays. And what I learned about myself should not have come as a surprise, but more of a warm fuzzy - it came as both. Since closing my antique business the first part of 2014 - a formal closure - but one is never really out of the business when you love to look and buy treasures - I shied away fron all the things I love for many months. Until my breakthrough in December, where all the beauty I loved, kept me from my own personal breakdown!

 

It is not bad enough I am trying to work through getting a hip replacement, and I am on hold with that until I do more to be pro-active and healthy with my daily rituals, such as eating and exercise, but I popped something in the back of my knee right before all the festivities started. The knee more a problem than the hip, since I couldn't walk without pain. A trip to the doctor, a prescription for pain meds, a cane, and an MRI were my holiday gifts! I cancelled all the wonderful plans since I had to rest, per doctor's orders. It was a very quiet holiday, shared with my dog family, so you know, it was a loving one. On the verge of going stir-crazy I frequented Pinterest - okay, you know me, I am on Pinterest every day - looking a lovely cottage rooms. However, over the holidays I spent more time looking and dreaming. When agitated with my knee, the photos of old painted cupboards and farm tables had a calming effect I can't explain. Looking at rooms that were filled with fancies I adore, made me feel hopeful for the future. The knee was just a problem for now, as the hip will be later this year, but the beauty of timeworn antiques and the decorating possibilities of what I can work towards, bloomed like a lovely rose on a dismal day in winter. It amazed me that my love of houses, and filling them with things of beauty, is a constant that carries me through rough days. That is not to say my faith is not strong, this is simply a statement on my never ending affair with things from the past. I became an antique dealer when my own treasures outnumbered my rooms and rented storage units all those many years ago. I guess once in love with antiques, always in love with them. Taste changes, but the basic thrill of finding beauty never goes away.

 

I know I am not alone in that thought - how home and decorating brings healing and joy. I am reading a lovely book that reaffirms all I feel.

 

 

I found this treasure on Amazon digging around looking for gardening books, and knew it was just what I needed to read. An older book, copyright 2002, it is a gem.

 

For six years, House & Garden editor-in-chief Dominique Browning has written a monthly column that weaves together personal stories and tips about home decorating, gardening, and raising children with universal themes of domestic life. In Around the House and in the Garden, Browning adapts and expands these well-loved pieces, adding dozens of new essays, to create an insightful and moving narrative about the solace and sense of self that can be found through tending one's home.

 

As a writer I am asked what books do I read. Well, here is a fantastic example of what I love. I am not a big fiction reader, I prefer small intimate books, essays on life. That is also what I prefer to write and hope to do more of.

 

So, back to the antique side of this post. I am including photos below from Pinterest that brought me back to my senses. I am an antique addict, a decorator, and, while no photos here, a crazy dog lady. Not bad. My spoonful of sugar takes mighty sweet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are a few of my favorite things . . . what are yours?

 

Book Review "I'll Always Love You"

During an interview when I was on tour with WOW, Women On Writing, I was asked what book influenced me most as a child. Well, my mind went blank, a senior moment perhaps.( Dear Heavens, am I really using that phrase?). I don't remember books from my childhood, but I do remember a childrens' book from my adult life that I love to this day!

"I'll Always Love You" by Hans Wilhelm. This charming, sweet book was published in 1988, by Dragonfly books, and can be purchased on Amazon online.

The story is a simple one. Elfie, a dachshund, and her young boy progress happily through life together. As a young pup, Elfie is full of pep and pranks; but as her master grows taller and taller, Elfie grows fatter and slower. One morning Elfie does not wake up. The family grieves and buries her, and the boy refuses a new puppy. He is not yet ready for another pet; but when he is, he will tell that one, as he told Elsie every night, "I'll always love you."  (Amazon review).

The naive watercolor illustrations add to the feel of this dear book. It is one of the best books I have read on dealing with the loss of a pet and the lesson learned is one, that as adults, is a good one to remember. Tell those you love that you love them every day.

Written for ages four to eight, it is a book that every adult, who has ever loved and lost a pet, will treasure.

I tell my dogs every day I love them. I tell that to my friends and family too. It amazes me that a book written for a small child can have so much impact on my life as an adult!

A perfect little holiday gift to show those you love, that you love them!

I have to add my own two cents worth here. When your pet leaves you, remember there are dogs that are grieveing for a forever home. Don't wait before you find another true love. We can't replace those dogs we love, but we can love a dog that is lost and needs love. There is no better feeling than to open our hearts to animals in need.

Check with my favorite rescue group, Animal Action Rescue, to see dogs that need your love.

Widow Lesson Learned: Sometimes a childens' book can point an adult in the right direction on how to deal with life. 'I'll always love you,' Foxy, Bray, Annabelle, Chloe, Rascal, Bray, and mother, and all my dear friends.