Book Review: "Big Magic" by Elizabeth Gilbert

Big Magic; Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert is chock full of ideas for artistic expression.

Here are a few ideas I've taken away from her book.

• Five essentials for creative expression: courage, enchantment, permission, persistence, and trust.

• For older creatives, age doesn't finish us, it merely makes us ready.

• Affirmation that “Artistic expression is refreshingly non-essential.”

• The question to ask yourself is not, “What are you passionate about?” The question is “What are you passionate enough about?” (enough to do the work)

• Write for yourself. Don't write to help anyone, or become famous or rich. Write because you have to write, and because you love it. (or skate, or play music or whatever) I would add the analogy that a rose blooms not to impress anyone or to become beautiful, but because that's what it was created to do.

These concepts are not new. So it would be easy to disregard this book. I know. I've done this myself.

“There's nothing new here.” I think. “Heard it all before.” And I dismiss the book.

“Really?” My conscience answers, “And how's that working for you?”

I raise an eyebrow and sigh because I'm still stuck.

“Why not pay attention to some of these ideas, and apply them?”

Ouch.

Gilbert's writing style, her encouragement, and the way she reframes and refreshes ideas, makes this one of the best books I've read on artistic expression. So go read Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. Then share your thoughts and I'll post them.

Loretta DeRosa recommended this book. Thanks Loretta.

Make it a great week.

Judy

Platitudes and Peace of Mind

Finding peace of mind in the middle of a busy summer is an enigma. Why do I heap so many projects – like moving – vacations and trike trips into the hottest time of the year? That's my conundrum.

 I've found that platitudes and philosophical thoughts don't help with peace of mind. I've plastered my frig with meaningful verses and phrases. However, once stuck there I no longer notice them. Besides, when life is charging like a bull at a rodeo clown, that's not the time to deliberate.

However, I've reached the conclusion that grounding my body, grounds my thinking. So I'm practicing sitting still. Today I started with five minutes. No controlling my thoughts or saying “Om.” Only sitting still. It's not an original idea – few of my ideas are.

I'll let you know how it works.

BTW How do you find peace in your busiest seasons? Recruit others to help? Prioritize your plans? Go to the beach?

Stay With Me

                                                                    (A Short Story)

Magil shivered in the early morning darkness. He snuggled deeper into his damp sleeping bag, his toes numb from cold. After a moment, he skooched out of the bag, careful not to wake his mother who slept beside him. He reached for his boots. A sprinkle of rain dropped from an overhead pine branch and showered him. He grimaced as he shoved his feet into dank boots that heightened his urge to urinate. He hurried a short distance from his mother before relieving himself. He appreciated everything she had done for him. The least he could do was to show her respect.

“Parents like that,” he thought.

Instinctively, he jumped at the sounds of footsteps, and saw arcs of light flung back and forth, light that moved toward the place where his mother slept. He ducked under the low branches of a blue spruce. At nine years old he knew how to slip away from adults. Three men grabbed her, and lifted her to her feet. His heart pounded like a jack hammer, as the men questioned her. She looked around her, and smiled in his direction. He pulled back intuitively. She shrugged as the men took hold of her arms, and led her away.

His face wrenched in agony. He wanted to rescue her.

“Don't leave! Come back!” The words screamed in his heart.

But he couldn't move. He would never go back to that orphanage. Never. His eyebrows knotted. When he was there before, the older children ridiculed him. They beat him. Said he was mental! Stole his boots – better boots than what he wore now.

A sneer contorted his mouth as he remembered that two weeks later when he ran away, no one missed him. For three weeks! He knew that because his mother had told him.

And when he had found her, she hugged and kissed him, over the moon with happiness. And such a team they made. They could read each other's thoughts. She distracted vendors while he stole their goods, hiding smaller items under his jacket. Adults paid little attention to him. He was small. Wiry. Unnoticeable.

Now, he needed to find her again. And he would.

That afternoon he walked to the brownstone church on Newel Street, as he did every Sunday. Behind the church in front of a gray tombstone, he pulled a small bouquet from his jacket, and laid it down. The stone read. Sarah Mitkin, 1990-2010 died in childbirth, survived by her son, Magil.

As he walked back down Newel Street, he whispered,

“Where are you momma?”

He felt a kiss on his cheek. His eyes twinkled.

Bookshots

Here's a brilliant idea from James Patterson. It's his creation called “Bookshots,” fast-paced novels under 150 pages and $5.00. In an interview with Anthony Mason on the CBS Sunday Morning show two weeks ago, Patterson announced his plans to release 23 “bookshot” titles this year. It is all about encouraging people who may not have time or interest to read a long novel, but who would buy one that requires little time to read. After all, how many of us have a stack of books we intend to read one day and never get around to it? I'm not promoting Patterson's books (he certainly doesn't need me to do that!) But the idea of writing shorter novels, I think, is excellent.

Remember What You Read

If you forget what you read, is it always the fault of the author? What if the book was forgettable? Or maybe it's the playfulness of our memory, and the similarity between books we've read. Here's a humorous look at the issue with Daisy.

Your thoughts?

See you next week,

Judy