We are on holiday in Malta. Two days ago, we took a ferry to the island of Gozo, one of the larger islands in the Maltese archipelago. The highlight of this island is the Megalithic Temples of Ggantija—the oldest free-standing monuments in the world, pre-dating Stonehenge and the Pyramids of Egypt. (How did we all not know of this place?) As we walked among the ruins, I trailed my hand across the ancient stones, imagining the people who used these structures almost six thousand years ago. I had a similar feeling to that of gazing at distant stars in the night sky—what an infinitesimal part I am in the vast passage of time and space. What can we take from experiences like this? Humility. Acceptance—of all that was, all that is, and all that will be.
Two books: “Awakened Cosmos, The Mind of Classical Chinese Poetry” and “Hunger Mountain”. Both written by David Hinton.
A few days ago I visited one of my favorite rail trails. Walking along, suddenly, as I listened to birds, wind, insects, footsteps on gravel, all thoughts fell away from the developed habit of naming birds, labelling, claiming knowledge, and All there was, not even “self listening”, was an experience of listening, and being heard, a symphony of Nature’s thriving. Later I would describe this experience, this quiet inner body opening to a unified fabric. No thoughts of past, future, no plans, one motion of a foot followed by another foot. All of life, sounds, nearby trees, reservoir waters, one thriving tapestry. Maybe, maybe, what David Hinton refers to as “consciousness listening to consciousness, listening to itself.”🏮
Carole, what an awe inspiring experience! I also admire that you have the acceptance of " all that is, and all that will be." I'm not there yet. "Humility" is a lesson I thought I had, and I have learned that I have it in many ways, and still have many places for it to grow. Thank you for your piece today.
Clarence lit the way to who I became-and I am so grateful-others as well-not having much to consider in a home that was not-I was blessed truly to have "Angelic" encounters-knowing now full well it could have been much worse.
Clarence was the handyman at Sunny Oaks, a hotel in the Catskill Mountains of New York where my father sent me every summer after my mother died. He knew the owner from volunteering at the Hebrew Home for the Aged in Brooklyn. I loved going to the mountains, where I had little supervision and could spend my days swimming and rock climbing and nights talking to Clarence. He was from the south and came up north to Philadelphia with his wife Theola and their son Willy.
Clarence was a very religious Southern Baptist and I considered him to be my second father. Every night we would sit out near the shed on a bench near where the garbage was kept and he would tell me stories that began with “Praise the Lord”; I loved to hear him tell Bible stories and about his life down south. Once, Clarence asked Theola to comb my hair; which was unruly and unkempt. “Every little girl has to have someone have their hair real nice and you have such pretty curls” Theola took me up to the attic room where I stayed and spent what must have spent hours, combing out the knots. When she was satisfied we came back to where Clarence was sitting and I remember him saying, “ Praise the Lord, you sure are pretty.”
During the winter, I missed Clarence so much and when feeling poorly, I would cry for his comforting presence. I looked forward to seeing him every summer, and our talks sitting on the bench near the shed where the garbage cans were kept. When I was thirteen, Clarence told me that we could not sit together anymore because people would talk. “One day all this will change; Praise be the Lord” That summer Sunny Oaks lost its luster, and I never returned or saw Clarence. Again.
That’s such a moving story Mae. How fortunate you were to have that relationship with Clarence and how sad to lose it… but you carry him with you it seems.❤️
Seventh grade, Mrs Blair's english class. We were reading the short story 'Flowers for Algernon' (about the challenges of a young retarded man) outloud. I was so moved by it that I couldn't stop crying, and of course at that age some of the kids made fun of me. Mrs Blair stopped and went on to talk about how wonderful it was that I was so sensitive, how I could actually feel the character. It was so positive for me to be validated in this way - something that I was embarrassed about was shown to be a strength. Many years later I went into the field of special education. Of course there were other factors, but reading this story when I was 12 and the teacher's reaction started me on my path to that career/life choice. Thank you, Mrs Blair!
that book changed my life too (and then the movie), and i read it at the same age as you. do kids read that book anymore? how lucky your were to have such a sensitive and kind teacher. and amazing how that books influenced your whole life. thank you for sharing this.
“At the end of the day, I call it the pleasure principle. Whatever gives you pleasure is going to be beneficial. If you like it, the rest will follow.”
I mean, could it be that simple…? Dare I say, why not!
On age...I was sitting, eating lunch with my students (3,4 and 5 year olds), and my curly, blond boy with the wisdom of an old soul and the spontaneity of little kids says, "My mom's dad is dead. Is your mom dead?" "Yes," I answer and then follow with, "But she was like really, really old. Your mom and dad are like really, really young." (He knows I'm 64). "Yeah," he smiles broadly, "And you're in the middle." I'm in "the middle." How glorious! How enlightening. Thank you, little one, for providing me with the lens which describes how I feel too.
When I was 15 I read Autobiography of a Yogi. The year was 1970. I had been through 10 years of Catholic School by 13. I never heard of
Buddha or Eastern religions.
Along with an entire generation of readers, I was swept away into a sea of consciousness that was limitless. Steve Jobs is born weeks after me. He went to
India after reading Pramahansa Yogananda's book. It changed him as well.
At his Memorial Service everyone who attended recieved a copy. I bestow this
Upon completion of reading Autobiography of a Yogi, I sat down to meditate, having no previous lessons. I found a breathing rhythm of east-west north-south front-back and realized upon landing that I had floated up to the ceiling. I was able to go to the Lake Shrine on Sunset Blvd. where it meets the Pacific Ocean. Upon Paramahansa Yogananda's death the Mortuary Director noted no visible signs of physical deterioration or decay for 20 days after his death. Extremely rare!
It’s not a book; but watching the documentary Earthlings deeply changed me over 15 years ago. It’s about sentience - of animals in particular - and offers an unflinching lens into how humans currently coexist with animals. It’s not an easy watch, but it is incredibly moving.
Sabrina, The word sentience caught my attention. Over the years I have become increasingly interested in the possibility that what connects living things may be more important than what separates them. Some of the deepest forms of communication I have experienced involved no words at all, only a quiet sense of awareness shared between beings. Your comment touched something I have been exploring for a long time.
I am so happy that these words connected with you Rex. You've said it exactly right for me too - what connects us is more I important than what separates us, whether we are talking about humans, animals or nature. xoxo
Omg - I love this, Suleika! I’ve had my own experiences interviewing an important person with whom I would never have another opportunity, only to find that my old school battery operated recorder failed me.
…But I do have a marvelous book I’d love to recommend - written by a former professor of mine, now a cherished mentor and friend, Gerald (Jerry) Zaltman. The book is called “Dare to Think Differently: How Open-Mindedness Creates Exceptional Decision-Making.”
Published by Stanford University Press in 2026.
Jerry is also very accessible and would love to hear from anyone who has any thoughts or questions about his book or research. He is one of the wisest and kindest people I know.
I can’t cite a single work or encounter that has shifted my perspective or thinking, but countless experiences throughout my life have done so. Certainly, books like “The Brothers Karamazov” have shaped my thinking, others include “The Magic Mountain,” “In Search of Lost Time,” and most novels by Henry James. But I can’t leave out “Middle March” and most of Charles Dickens, and too, the books of Thomas Hardy. I do believe you should read what you enjoy, whether it be fiction or non-fiction. However, a book I read recently, “Dust: The Modern World in a Trillion Particles” by Jay Owens arrested my attention with a new focus on the nature of dust and how prevalent and significant it is in not just our lives but what it tells us about the state of the world and our relation to it. I really hadn’t thought too much about dust, other than it is everywhere and made-up particles of even ourselves. This book brought the presence of dust into the orbit of my mind in a way that was surprising. (This also called to mind the mystical aspect of Dust in Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials.”) Many elements connect the world and all that exists. I have often thought about this, especially when looking at the design element of arabesques. The interconnection of all things. I also encountered this idea as a pedagogical approach known as Rhizomatic Learning. This type of pedagogy emphasizes increasing networks of interconnected knowledge and understanding. I explored this approach while getting my master’s at Penn State. I often wonder what human society would be like if instead of learning by hierarchies and rigid goal-oriented results, we learned and lived by how we and the world are connected.
I love to read. Right now I am halfway through Elizabeth Strout’s new novel, “The Things We Never Say.” Next in line is “Mona’s Eyes” by Thomas Schessler. I am also reading a murder mystery—I am addicted to detective stories!!
I have been to many museums in my life but have never really looked intently at the art they housed. I viewed it as nice, pretty, wow, but did not really look or think about the piece or even the artist who created it. I passed by incredible sculptures without much thought about how incredible and impossible they were to create. Then, here on Substack, I ran across James Lucas and his account. He shares unbelievable pictures but has also shared the background on sculptures and art and how the impossible was done. I now have a new appreciation for both art and artist and long to be in a museum almost daily. Now when I see old sculptures, paintings, churches, etc, the beauty and the story brings me to tears.
Braiding Sweetgrass led me to the Mother Tree that led me to Overstory! But Braiding Sweetgrass was the portal. I clung to every word, every sentence in this book. It unlocked something inside me.
Reading is the gateway to other worlds. The saying “ I opened a book and in I strolled.” Is one of my favorite. As the daughter of a career Navy man, we moved around every 2-3 years. Books were my refuge from a world that was ever changing. They were my besties. I was always the “new kid.” I devoured books. I remember being in a new school in second grade, it was discovered that I was reading on a 10th grade level, which sent my teacher on a quest to find age appropriate reading materials, no small feat. That year was magical because she helped me realize that reading a book was not just about reading a book, but learning to delve deeper into the story, to peel back the layers. Obviously, 2nd grade reading material didn’t do this. This wonderful teacher found me books that sparked a deeper love of reading within me. When I was first diagnosed with blood cancer back in 2008, and dealing with all of the trauma associated with the disease nearly taking my life, treatment side effects, and all of the other stuff that a life threatening illness brings, I lost my ability to be able to focus on reading. It was another thing cancer tried to take from me. It took me a couple of years to regain any sort of degree of focus again, but I never fully got it back. With my relapse and subsequent treatment in 2024, I feel like I returning to a level of focus again where I actually enjoy reading. Maybe part of it is due to the fact that hubs just retired and we are enjoying more leisurely time. Currently, we are at the beach home we rent each year for the month of June, enjoying our pool, the beach, time with our kids and grandkids. We arrived Monday and I have already finished a beachy novel, and working on finishing #2. Light reading is better than no reading in my book🥰🦋
Thank you for this Suleika and the introduction to Deb Olin Unferth and her words here. These resonated so much. Also on to her new book, Earth 7, which asks a question I have long asked, "Is all matter conscious?" which started with my lifelong love of trees. I'm dying to read that now.
Finishing possibly the most well written piece of fiction in my life. For real. It made me so uncomfortable with its complicated and often despicable characters yet I could not stop reading. Stoner by John Williams is set in early 1900s. Remarkably painful to read at times and so beautifully rendered.
I was hoping for a reading list from your dad though! I need something to follow this American classic that's got some teeth.
The Correspondent is beautiful! And now I am committed to penning a letter weekly. I even turned a corner of my art studio into a writing spot with stationary, envelopes , stamps.
Isn’t it just so exciting to feel like you have read and been transported to another world in a book. I guess reading it again will be the best way to stay with it!
Thích Nhất Hạnh. As I understand it the pivotal moment for him was when an American soldier spit on him. In that moment he held onto his love with all of his inner strength and subsequently became a great liberator communicator. His books are easy to read and cut right to the heart of the matter. His technique is hugely helpful for dealing with grief,sorrow, troubling thoughts, or whatever the distress. In brief--dont pass judgement on it--acknowledge it's presence, offer it a chair and assure it that you are going to take care of it. This is shrewd--dont let yourself be shut down. (Better to read his advice in his own words.) His mindfulness teachings are gentle and powerful. Of course I love when he writes about eating a string bean--seeing the sky and the rain and beautiful Earth it grew from, or his walking meditations feeling the Earth deeply. Bodhisattva stuff all the way. May all sentient beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. What a sweet powerful guy and what a badass!
Yes I too have been influenced by Thich Nhat Hanh. Just learning how to spell his name helps me be present! I still don’t know how to type the accent but perhaps he would just remind me to accept and breathe.
A book called Jungle Medicine, by Connie Grauds, changed my thinking in ways I did not fully appreciate at the time. I picked it up because I have always been fascinated by medicine practiced under difficult conditions, where there are few resources and no sophisticated technology to hide behind. What began as curiosity about a book eventually became something much larger.
After reading it, I connected with Connie, whose kindness and encouragement opened a door I never expected to walk through. That relationship ultimately led to a trip deep into the Amazon, where I saw healthcare stripped down to its essentials. There were no gleaming hospital towers, no endless diagnostic tests, and none of the complexity that often surrounds modern medicine. What remained were people caring for other people with whatever knowledge, tools, and compassion they had available.
I returned home with the realization that healing and technology are not the same thing. Technology can be extraordinary and lifesaving, but healing often begins much earlier. It begins with presence, attention, kindness, and the simple act of making another person feel seen. At the time, I thought the lesson was about medicine in remote villages. Years later, after cancer, autoimmune disease, countless doctor visits, hospitalizations, and surgeries, I realized the lesson was much broader than that.
What changed was not my view of medicine, but my understanding of what people need when they are suffering. We need expertise, certainly. We need science, diagnostics, medications, and skilled physicians. But we also need connection. We need someone who remembers our name, sits beside us for a moment, listens carefully, or offers encouragement when fear begins to take hold. The Amazon taught me that those things are not extras. They are part of the healing process itself.
Looking back, the book was only the beginning. The real gift was the journey it set into motion and the understanding that followed. Some books entertain us, some educate us, and a few quietly alter the lens through which we see the world. Jungle Medicine did that for me.
When I left the Amazon, I found myself thinking of Howard Carter standing at the entrance to Tutankhamun's tomb. Asked what he could see, he famously replied, "I see wonderful things." At the time I did not fully understand what I had found. Years later, after illness, cancer, hospitals, and countless encounters with both suffering and healing, I realize that what I saw was not the jungle at all. What I saw were the countless ways human beings care for one another when everything else is stripped away. Those remain some of the most wonderful things I have ever seen.
Sorry, I answered a prompt and wrote a book again. 😊
so beautiful. this perspective on healing is what Commonweal's "Cancer Help Program" in Bolinas, California has helped people to experience for 40 years. it's a powerful shift when the space is created for it to emerge.
We are on holiday in Malta. Two days ago, we took a ferry to the island of Gozo, one of the larger islands in the Maltese archipelago. The highlight of this island is the Megalithic Temples of Ggantija—the oldest free-standing monuments in the world, pre-dating Stonehenge and the Pyramids of Egypt. (How did we all not know of this place?) As we walked among the ruins, I trailed my hand across the ancient stones, imagining the people who used these structures almost six thousand years ago. I had a similar feeling to that of gazing at distant stars in the night sky—what an infinitesimal part I am in the vast passage of time and space. What can we take from experiences like this? Humility. Acceptance—of all that was, all that is, and all that will be.
Two books: “Awakened Cosmos, The Mind of Classical Chinese Poetry” and “Hunger Mountain”. Both written by David Hinton.
A few days ago I visited one of my favorite rail trails. Walking along, suddenly, as I listened to birds, wind, insects, footsteps on gravel, all thoughts fell away from the developed habit of naming birds, labelling, claiming knowledge, and All there was, not even “self listening”, was an experience of listening, and being heard, a symphony of Nature’s thriving. Later I would describe this experience, this quiet inner body opening to a unified fabric. No thoughts of past, future, no plans, one motion of a foot followed by another foot. All of life, sounds, nearby trees, reservoir waters, one thriving tapestry. Maybe, maybe, what David Hinton refers to as “consciousness listening to consciousness, listening to itself.”🏮
A symphony of nature’s thriving…what a beautiful expression David. Thank you.🙏
A kaleidoscope of consciousness :-)
Carole, what an awe inspiring experience! I also admire that you have the acceptance of " all that is, and all that will be." I'm not there yet. "Humility" is a lesson I thought I had, and I have learned that I have it in many ways, and still have many places for it to grow. Thank you for your piece today.
Thank you for transporting me. Your comment, “how did we all not know of this place?”, feel so true about our world.
Clarence lit the way to who I became-and I am so grateful-others as well-not having much to consider in a home that was not-I was blessed truly to have "Angelic" encounters-knowing now full well it could have been much worse.
Clarence was the handyman at Sunny Oaks, a hotel in the Catskill Mountains of New York where my father sent me every summer after my mother died. He knew the owner from volunteering at the Hebrew Home for the Aged in Brooklyn. I loved going to the mountains, where I had little supervision and could spend my days swimming and rock climbing and nights talking to Clarence. He was from the south and came up north to Philadelphia with his wife Theola and their son Willy.
Clarence was a very religious Southern Baptist and I considered him to be my second father. Every night we would sit out near the shed on a bench near where the garbage was kept and he would tell me stories that began with “Praise the Lord”; I loved to hear him tell Bible stories and about his life down south. Once, Clarence asked Theola to comb my hair; which was unruly and unkempt. “Every little girl has to have someone have their hair real nice and you have such pretty curls” Theola took me up to the attic room where I stayed and spent what must have spent hours, combing out the knots. When she was satisfied we came back to where Clarence was sitting and I remember him saying, “ Praise the Lord, you sure are pretty.”
During the winter, I missed Clarence so much and when feeling poorly, I would cry for his comforting presence. I looked forward to seeing him every summer, and our talks sitting on the bench near the shed where the garbage cans were kept. When I was thirteen, Clarence told me that we could not sit together anymore because people would talk. “One day all this will change; Praise be the Lord” That summer Sunny Oaks lost its luster, and I never returned or saw Clarence. Again.
That’s such a moving story Mae. How fortunate you were to have that relationship with Clarence and how sad to lose it… but you carry him with you it seems.❤️
Yes...I truly believe in angels.
Seventh grade, Mrs Blair's english class. We were reading the short story 'Flowers for Algernon' (about the challenges of a young retarded man) outloud. I was so moved by it that I couldn't stop crying, and of course at that age some of the kids made fun of me. Mrs Blair stopped and went on to talk about how wonderful it was that I was so sensitive, how I could actually feel the character. It was so positive for me to be validated in this way - something that I was embarrassed about was shown to be a strength. Many years later I went into the field of special education. Of course there were other factors, but reading this story when I was 12 and the teacher's reaction started me on my path to that career/life choice. Thank you, Mrs Blair!
that book changed my life too (and then the movie), and i read it at the same age as you. do kids read that book anymore? how lucky your were to have such a sensitive and kind teacher. and amazing how that books influenced your whole life. thank you for sharing this.
That connection to both sensitivity and your teacher is very moving.
“At the end of the day, I call it the pleasure principle. Whatever gives you pleasure is going to be beneficial. If you like it, the rest will follow.”
I mean, could it be that simple…? Dare I say, why not!
What a gem your father is 🥹♥️
On age...I was sitting, eating lunch with my students (3,4 and 5 year olds), and my curly, blond boy with the wisdom of an old soul and the spontaneity of little kids says, "My mom's dad is dead. Is your mom dead?" "Yes," I answer and then follow with, "But she was like really, really old. Your mom and dad are like really, really young." (He knows I'm 64). "Yeah," he smiles broadly, "And you're in the middle." I'm in "the middle." How glorious! How enlightening. Thank you, little one, for providing me with the lens which describes how I feel too.
When I was 15 I read Autobiography of a Yogi. The year was 1970. I had been through 10 years of Catholic School by 13. I never heard of
Buddha or Eastern religions.
Along with an entire generation of readers, I was swept away into a sea of consciousness that was limitless. Steve Jobs is born weeks after me. He went to
India after reading Pramahansa Yogananda's book. It changed him as well.
At his Memorial Service everyone who attended recieved a copy. I bestow this
thought, to add this to your
Summer reading list, enjoy!
Blessings.
Upon completion of reading Autobiography of a Yogi, I sat down to meditate, having no previous lessons. I found a breathing rhythm of east-west north-south front-back and realized upon landing that I had floated up to the ceiling. I was able to go to the Lake Shrine on Sunset Blvd. where it meets the Pacific Ocean. Upon Paramahansa Yogananda's death the Mortuary Director noted no visible signs of physical deterioration or decay for 20 days after his death. Extremely rare!
It’s not a book; but watching the documentary Earthlings deeply changed me over 15 years ago. It’s about sentience - of animals in particular - and offers an unflinching lens into how humans currently coexist with animals. It’s not an easy watch, but it is incredibly moving.
Sabrina, The word sentience caught my attention. Over the years I have become increasingly interested in the possibility that what connects living things may be more important than what separates them. Some of the deepest forms of communication I have experienced involved no words at all, only a quiet sense of awareness shared between beings. Your comment touched something I have been exploring for a long time.
I am so happy that these words connected with you Rex. You've said it exactly right for me too - what connects us is more I important than what separates us, whether we are talking about humans, animals or nature. xoxo
Omg - I love this, Suleika! I’ve had my own experiences interviewing an important person with whom I would never have another opportunity, only to find that my old school battery operated recorder failed me.
…But I do have a marvelous book I’d love to recommend - written by a former professor of mine, now a cherished mentor and friend, Gerald (Jerry) Zaltman. The book is called “Dare to Think Differently: How Open-Mindedness Creates Exceptional Decision-Making.”
Published by Stanford University Press in 2026.
Jerry is also very accessible and would love to hear from anyone who has any thoughts or questions about his book or research. He is one of the wisest and kindest people I know.
https://www.sup.org/books/business/dare-think-differently
I can’t cite a single work or encounter that has shifted my perspective or thinking, but countless experiences throughout my life have done so. Certainly, books like “The Brothers Karamazov” have shaped my thinking, others include “The Magic Mountain,” “In Search of Lost Time,” and most novels by Henry James. But I can’t leave out “Middle March” and most of Charles Dickens, and too, the books of Thomas Hardy. I do believe you should read what you enjoy, whether it be fiction or non-fiction. However, a book I read recently, “Dust: The Modern World in a Trillion Particles” by Jay Owens arrested my attention with a new focus on the nature of dust and how prevalent and significant it is in not just our lives but what it tells us about the state of the world and our relation to it. I really hadn’t thought too much about dust, other than it is everywhere and made-up particles of even ourselves. This book brought the presence of dust into the orbit of my mind in a way that was surprising. (This also called to mind the mystical aspect of Dust in Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials.”) Many elements connect the world and all that exists. I have often thought about this, especially when looking at the design element of arabesques. The interconnection of all things. I also encountered this idea as a pedagogical approach known as Rhizomatic Learning. This type of pedagogy emphasizes increasing networks of interconnected knowledge and understanding. I explored this approach while getting my master’s at Penn State. I often wonder what human society would be like if instead of learning by hierarchies and rigid goal-oriented results, we learned and lived by how we and the world are connected.
And what is your next read?!? You definitely have “dusted,” off many a novel. Thanks for sharing.
I love to read. Right now I am halfway through Elizabeth Strout’s new novel, “The Things We Never Say.” Next in line is “Mona’s Eyes” by Thomas Schessler. I am also reading a murder mystery—I am addicted to detective stories!!
I have been to many museums in my life but have never really looked intently at the art they housed. I viewed it as nice, pretty, wow, but did not really look or think about the piece or even the artist who created it. I passed by incredible sculptures without much thought about how incredible and impossible they were to create. Then, here on Substack, I ran across James Lucas and his account. He shares unbelievable pictures but has also shared the background on sculptures and art and how the impossible was done. I now have a new appreciation for both art and artist and long to be in a museum almost daily. Now when I see old sculptures, paintings, churches, etc, the beauty and the story brings me to tears.
Braiding Sweetgrass led me to the Mother Tree that led me to Overstory! But Braiding Sweetgrass was the portal. I clung to every word, every sentence in this book. It unlocked something inside me.
Yes Braiding Sweetgrass was alive with nature and harmony.
Reading is the gateway to other worlds. The saying “ I opened a book and in I strolled.” Is one of my favorite. As the daughter of a career Navy man, we moved around every 2-3 years. Books were my refuge from a world that was ever changing. They were my besties. I was always the “new kid.” I devoured books. I remember being in a new school in second grade, it was discovered that I was reading on a 10th grade level, which sent my teacher on a quest to find age appropriate reading materials, no small feat. That year was magical because she helped me realize that reading a book was not just about reading a book, but learning to delve deeper into the story, to peel back the layers. Obviously, 2nd grade reading material didn’t do this. This wonderful teacher found me books that sparked a deeper love of reading within me. When I was first diagnosed with blood cancer back in 2008, and dealing with all of the trauma associated with the disease nearly taking my life, treatment side effects, and all of the other stuff that a life threatening illness brings, I lost my ability to be able to focus on reading. It was another thing cancer tried to take from me. It took me a couple of years to regain any sort of degree of focus again, but I never fully got it back. With my relapse and subsequent treatment in 2024, I feel like I returning to a level of focus again where I actually enjoy reading. Maybe part of it is due to the fact that hubs just retired and we are enjoying more leisurely time. Currently, we are at the beach home we rent each year for the month of June, enjoying our pool, the beach, time with our kids and grandkids. We arrived Monday and I have already finished a beachy novel, and working on finishing #2. Light reading is better than no reading in my book🥰🦋
Thank you for this Suleika and the introduction to Deb Olin Unferth and her words here. These resonated so much. Also on to her new book, Earth 7, which asks a question I have long asked, "Is all matter conscious?" which started with my lifelong love of trees. I'm dying to read that now.
Me too!
Finishing possibly the most well written piece of fiction in my life. For real. It made me so uncomfortable with its complicated and often despicable characters yet I could not stop reading. Stoner by John Williams is set in early 1900s. Remarkably painful to read at times and so beautifully rendered.
I was hoping for a reading list from your dad though! I need something to follow this American classic that's got some teeth.
The list is linked above but also dropping here ❤️
https://theisolationjournals.substack.com/p/a-lifetime-of-reading
Pam, the list is at the very bottom of Suleika’s email. It’s quite wonderful…🌻
I just finished The Correspondent by Virginia Evans and my reading list has grown. One of the books is Stoner!
The Correspondent is beautiful! And now I am committed to penning a letter weekly. I even turned a corner of my art studio into a writing spot with stationary, envelopes , stamps.
Isn’t it just so exciting to feel like you have read and been transported to another world in a book. I guess reading it again will be the best way to stay with it!
Agree. Books are besties briefly ... holding my attention and stretching me in surprising ways.
Thích Nhất Hạnh. As I understand it the pivotal moment for him was when an American soldier spit on him. In that moment he held onto his love with all of his inner strength and subsequently became a great liberator communicator. His books are easy to read and cut right to the heart of the matter. His technique is hugely helpful for dealing with grief,sorrow, troubling thoughts, or whatever the distress. In brief--dont pass judgement on it--acknowledge it's presence, offer it a chair and assure it that you are going to take care of it. This is shrewd--dont let yourself be shut down. (Better to read his advice in his own words.) His mindfulness teachings are gentle and powerful. Of course I love when he writes about eating a string bean--seeing the sky and the rain and beautiful Earth it grew from, or his walking meditations feeling the Earth deeply. Bodhisattva stuff all the way. May all sentient beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. What a sweet powerful guy and what a badass!
Yes I too have been influenced by Thich Nhat Hanh. Just learning how to spell his name helps me be present! I still don’t know how to type the accent but perhaps he would just remind me to accept and breathe.
A book called Jungle Medicine, by Connie Grauds, changed my thinking in ways I did not fully appreciate at the time. I picked it up because I have always been fascinated by medicine practiced under difficult conditions, where there are few resources and no sophisticated technology to hide behind. What began as curiosity about a book eventually became something much larger.
After reading it, I connected with Connie, whose kindness and encouragement opened a door I never expected to walk through. That relationship ultimately led to a trip deep into the Amazon, where I saw healthcare stripped down to its essentials. There were no gleaming hospital towers, no endless diagnostic tests, and none of the complexity that often surrounds modern medicine. What remained were people caring for other people with whatever knowledge, tools, and compassion they had available.
I returned home with the realization that healing and technology are not the same thing. Technology can be extraordinary and lifesaving, but healing often begins much earlier. It begins with presence, attention, kindness, and the simple act of making another person feel seen. At the time, I thought the lesson was about medicine in remote villages. Years later, after cancer, autoimmune disease, countless doctor visits, hospitalizations, and surgeries, I realized the lesson was much broader than that.
What changed was not my view of medicine, but my understanding of what people need when they are suffering. We need expertise, certainly. We need science, diagnostics, medications, and skilled physicians. But we also need connection. We need someone who remembers our name, sits beside us for a moment, listens carefully, or offers encouragement when fear begins to take hold. The Amazon taught me that those things are not extras. They are part of the healing process itself.
Looking back, the book was only the beginning. The real gift was the journey it set into motion and the understanding that followed. Some books entertain us, some educate us, and a few quietly alter the lens through which we see the world. Jungle Medicine did that for me.
When I left the Amazon, I found myself thinking of Howard Carter standing at the entrance to Tutankhamun's tomb. Asked what he could see, he famously replied, "I see wonderful things." At the time I did not fully understand what I had found. Years later, after illness, cancer, hospitals, and countless encounters with both suffering and healing, I realize that what I saw was not the jungle at all. What I saw were the countless ways human beings care for one another when everything else is stripped away. Those remain some of the most wonderful things I have ever seen.
Sorry, I answered a prompt and wrote a book again. 😊
so beautiful. this perspective on healing is what Commonweal's "Cancer Help Program" in Bolinas, California has helped people to experience for 40 years. it's a powerful shift when the space is created for it to emerge.