Hyacinths For The Soul

If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Moslih Eddin Saadi, Gulistan (Garden of Roses)

This poem is a favorite of my mom’s, and I love it as much as she does. To me it means humans not only crave beauty, we need it to survive as much as food and water.

I’m reminded of a story I read about women in refugee camps. What did they want almost immediately after being fed? Lipstick. I don’t think that desire is frivolous. They wanted a small bit of glamour in the midst of terror and chaos. Beauty, after all, is a marker of our humanity.

Today I was one of the millions watching the royal wedding. I know there are contradicting opinions on the validity of royalty, but for me, this wedding was a hyacinth.

The setting was breathtaking. William and Katherine were the very essence of romance as they walked down a tree-lined red carpet. When the angelic voices of young boys serenaded them with a centuries old chant, my eyes filled with tears. As a writer, suddenly the images of Arwen and Aragon flashed into my head. I realized where Tolkein must have gotten some of his breathtaking imagery. His iconic settings were likely inspired from the lush English countryside and historic events like the one I observed today.

And books are certainly hyacinths for the soul.

In times where beauty can be rare and where many suffer, hyacinths are more important than ever. Yes, the wedding was expensive; so was our presidential inauguration. There are other expensive and controversial pursuits, such as space missions, the world-wide maintenance of historical sites and museums, and the Olympics. I believe all of these are hyacinths. They are examples of humans at their very best.

But perhaps more importantly, they give us hope that there will be a future for humanity, one filled with more hyacinths that we can possibly imagine.

Writers and Cats

I know it's a stereotype, but this site is so cute I couldn't help it. :-)

http://writersandkitties.tumblr.com/

What’s Important

I read an article the other day in one of my fashion mags. Yes, a fashion mag. Like TV, they get no respect. But anyway, the article was about the author’s struggle for balance between personal achievement and personal relationships. She talked about Carol Joyce Oates, who recently wrote a book on grief after the death of her husband.

Oates states that having been published often and praised often did nothing to ease her loss. And how obtaining her heart's desire of having her work recognized was, in the end, not important. She uses Mark Twain, who lost a child, as an example. Would he have given up Huckleberry Finn for that child? No question, said Oates.

When I first started reading this article I thought to myself, well, easy enough for YOU to say, Carol. You’ve published, like, 50 books. I know she must be devastated losing her husband. But still. Then I kept on reading. The Mark Twain story got me. I think it was the exchange part of it.

Which forced me to realize that every time you choose to pursue an individual goal, you sacrifice time with others. With loved ones. With your special partner. I’m not saying I think lovers, family members, and friends should be glued to each other at all times. But the book for a child touched me deeply.

At this point in my life I want Big Recognition for my books. But…at other times I have wanted different things. I’m sure years hence I will want something else. What has stayed the same is my connection to those I love. And although I haven’t known my husband all my life, I cannot imagine life without him now.

When I did counseling work I sometimes asked people and groups what they would want on their tombstone. This exercise often provided great clarity. For me, too. Would I like Famous Author on mine? Sure. But if I could only have one phrase, I’d rather have Kelly, beloved of Gary.

I’d trade any book for him.

Slogging Along

I’m in the middle of my new book, Bittersweet. Actually, I'm past the middle, but it feels like the middle. My character is on her way to completing her quest. I know what the ending is. But Something Else Needs To Happen. I don’t know what this Something is. This happens with every book. But it will work out. It always does.

Yet...

What if this book is the one I can’t figure out? What if this time there is no Something Else? Or what if I’ve lost it and will NEVER be able to figure out what any book needs????

Sigh.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite poems, Half Way Down The Stairs by A. A. Milne. I love this poem because it seems to celebrate outwardly doing nothing yet thinking quite a bit.

Kinda where I am right now.

Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where I sit.
there isn't any
other stair
quite like
it.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn't really
Anywhere
It's somewhere else
Instead.