Tuesday, December 18, 2012



Like so many, I am still feeling shaken by recent events, and am trying to regain my equilibrium.  Writing letters to my congresspeople and senators and president helped.  Decorating the house for Christmas also helped, doing so always feels like inviting more love in, to me.  Some quiet reading helped, too.  I returned to Byron, and beauty.  From Canto the Fourteenth, stanza VIII, of Don Juan:

"You know, or don't know, that great Bacon saith,
     'Fling up a straw, 't will show the way the wind blows;'
And such a straw, borne on by human breath,
     Is Poesy, according as the Mind glows;
A paper kite which flies 'twixt Life and Death,
     A shadow which the onward Soul behind throws:
And mine's a bubble, not blown up for praise,
But just to play with, as an infant plays."

Returning to favorite books is so comforting. I just read "Little Women" for perhaps the twentieth time in my life because it reminds me that good people suffer great losses sometimes but family and goodness and the strength of our convictions can see us through.
When I am very down and need a great literary distraction, I find Proust fits the bill very well. Proust is dense, but you can get lost in the beautiful details. The little things can make such a difference.
Such a lovely comment, thanks. I have begun Proust (he remains unfinished but is patiently waiting on my bookshelf for a second chance) and I agree. Beautiful lush language, poignancy, and intimacy. He brings memory to life again. I remember beginning to read him for the first time, many years ago now, and finding his prose to be nothing *nothing!* like what I expected. He was not James Joyce, he was not difficult and impenetrable! I read on with joyous relief.
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