I took heart when I read a recent little essay by Kelly Hughes, a publicist from Chicago. I did not know her, but very much liked what she brought to me during these crazy times of ours. And I thought you might be helped, too. She entitles her essay, “Books offer wisdom when we need it most.” As one who writes and even has authored a few books, I truly believe (and hope) what she said is true.
I really like her subtitle: “Books can help us perceive grace, beauty, love and truth.” That is what her essay is about, and I want to add that books are resources of the Spirit. Let me share some of her thoughts and tell you how books have been and still are resources of the Spirit for me. Early in the essay she shares a question from psychologist, Robert Wicks. He asks, “Don't we appreciate others' value to us and the brevity of our own life when we make friends with the reality of impermanence and the fragility of life?” Perhaps it is not welcome news to be reminded of the reality of impermanence and fragility of life.
I would argue, however, we are reminded of that every day right now. If we want a daily shot of this reality, we simply need to watch the 6pm news. It does not matter much which major US city we choose to watch the news. There are reports of daily Covid sicknesses and deaths. This reminds me of the Vietnam War days when the news in the evening reported about the deaths in that country around the globe from where I was. But this is not enough. There seem to be murders and mayhem on a daily basis on our city streets.
Such news is a constant reminder to me that reality is impermanent. I know all too well that life is fragile. I am old enough now that I can claim I am not like I was when I was young and full of energy. I laugh in the evening when I become stiff and admit I only went for a long walk. Kiddingly (or not), I say it feels like it did when I finished a marathon. But I am not complaining. I am delighted to be alive and ready to meet the challenges of life and our time. But I do it with the sober awareness that life is fragile. And it is just as fragile for the younger ones in our society, too.
I was intrigued that Hughes checked the best-selling list for Amazon, especially among the classics. Victor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning was high on the list. I am not surprised. This story of surviving a Nazi concentration camp is a study in hope. I use that book on a regular basis. It still speaks to modern women and men. Sometimes, I am not sure contemporary folks know how to hope very well. I think this is particularly true if we have forgotten the fragility of life point.
Another book doing well is Albert Camus’ The Plague. That does not even need comment, since it is pretty obvious. I can think of others that I would put on that list for myself. I like the work of the late psychiatrist and spirituality writer, Gerald May. I must have six or seven of his books on my shelf. Almost anyone will do, but for these times I might choose the little volume, Simply Sane. Again, the title should suffice to know why I chose it.
Hughes gives us another tidbit when she notes, “They can be simply good company, too, making us feel less alone. Some delight, amuse and amaze us.” During our crazy times, we are reminded that being alone all the time is not good for us. Maybe it is for hermits, but most of us have not chosen that lifestyle. But in some cases, it feels like it chose us! We have an option on our bookshelf. Choose a book and let it become your friend. It will make you feel less alone. Many books delight us. Some are funny. Read Mark Twain. How about choosing some poetry?
Hughes cites some great examples from Brian Doyle, whom I very much like as well. She picks his book, One Long River of Song. In that he describes why it is difficult to say what we mean to say. Doyle advises that “Perhaps much of the reason we so often do not say what we mean to say is because we cannot…” Wow, that is interesting. He continues, “there is wild in us yet, and in every word and sentence and speech is still the seethe of the sea, from whence we came, unto which we will return, which cannot ever be fully be trammeled or corralled or parsed, no matter how hard we try to mean what we say when we say what we think we mean.” There is so much in her, it would take pages to unpack.
I do think he is correct. There is wild in us. Part of that wild is the Spirit of God. God is from when we came and where we are heading. Even in the midst of craziness, this is good to know. The good news and the hope here for me, at least, is the conviction that I cannot ultimately mess it up. I may not know fully how to say my deeper truth, but I trust it is there and it is going to take me to good places---to the Holy One.
The Doyle book is just our last example. There are so many more than can become resources of the Spirit in these days when we do need good news and hope.
I really like her subtitle: “Books can help us perceive grace, beauty, love and truth.” That is what her essay is about, and I want to add that books are resources of the Spirit. Let me share some of her thoughts and tell you how books have been and still are resources of the Spirit for me. Early in the essay she shares a question from psychologist, Robert Wicks. He asks, “Don't we appreciate others' value to us and the brevity of our own life when we make friends with the reality of impermanence and the fragility of life?” Perhaps it is not welcome news to be reminded of the reality of impermanence and fragility of life.
I would argue, however, we are reminded of that every day right now. If we want a daily shot of this reality, we simply need to watch the 6pm news. It does not matter much which major US city we choose to watch the news. There are reports of daily Covid sicknesses and deaths. This reminds me of the Vietnam War days when the news in the evening reported about the deaths in that country around the globe from where I was. But this is not enough. There seem to be murders and mayhem on a daily basis on our city streets.
Such news is a constant reminder to me that reality is impermanent. I know all too well that life is fragile. I am old enough now that I can claim I am not like I was when I was young and full of energy. I laugh in the evening when I become stiff and admit I only went for a long walk. Kiddingly (or not), I say it feels like it did when I finished a marathon. But I am not complaining. I am delighted to be alive and ready to meet the challenges of life and our time. But I do it with the sober awareness that life is fragile. And it is just as fragile for the younger ones in our society, too.
I was intrigued that Hughes checked the best-selling list for Amazon, especially among the classics. Victor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning was high on the list. I am not surprised. This story of surviving a Nazi concentration camp is a study in hope. I use that book on a regular basis. It still speaks to modern women and men. Sometimes, I am not sure contemporary folks know how to hope very well. I think this is particularly true if we have forgotten the fragility of life point.
Another book doing well is Albert Camus’ The Plague. That does not even need comment, since it is pretty obvious. I can think of others that I would put on that list for myself. I like the work of the late psychiatrist and spirituality writer, Gerald May. I must have six or seven of his books on my shelf. Almost anyone will do, but for these times I might choose the little volume, Simply Sane. Again, the title should suffice to know why I chose it.
Hughes gives us another tidbit when she notes, “They can be simply good company, too, making us feel less alone. Some delight, amuse and amaze us.” During our crazy times, we are reminded that being alone all the time is not good for us. Maybe it is for hermits, but most of us have not chosen that lifestyle. But in some cases, it feels like it chose us! We have an option on our bookshelf. Choose a book and let it become your friend. It will make you feel less alone. Many books delight us. Some are funny. Read Mark Twain. How about choosing some poetry?
Hughes cites some great examples from Brian Doyle, whom I very much like as well. She picks his book, One Long River of Song. In that he describes why it is difficult to say what we mean to say. Doyle advises that “Perhaps much of the reason we so often do not say what we mean to say is because we cannot…” Wow, that is interesting. He continues, “there is wild in us yet, and in every word and sentence and speech is still the seethe of the sea, from whence we came, unto which we will return, which cannot ever be fully be trammeled or corralled or parsed, no matter how hard we try to mean what we say when we say what we think we mean.” There is so much in her, it would take pages to unpack.
I do think he is correct. There is wild in us. Part of that wild is the Spirit of God. God is from when we came and where we are heading. Even in the midst of craziness, this is good to know. The good news and the hope here for me, at least, is the conviction that I cannot ultimately mess it up. I may not know fully how to say my deeper truth, but I trust it is there and it is going to take me to good places---to the Holy One.
The Doyle book is just our last example. There are so many more than can become resources of the Spirit in these days when we do need good news and hope.
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