Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one. ~ Einstein
I haven’t been able to read for months, and I find this strange and disturbing. Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever gone through a period of time when reading wasn’t the answer? I can read snippets, specifically, The Tao Te Ching, short, pithy and comforting.
I withdrew from reading and writing when my wife got sick. She died of cancer two weeks ago. All I will say is this: She was the love of my life. I am devastated. She died and I didn’t and life goes on, I don’t know how.
We have all kinds of reasons for reading books, not the least of which is to drop down into someone else’s reality, to travel to another country or across the street, to enjoy, appreciate, suffer with, laugh with, cry with, and become friends with fictional or real characters. I couldn’t do it—couldn’t go anywhere in my imagination because I was hanging on to a reality I didn’t want to let go of, not even in the pages of a book. Maybe I thought my vigilance would keep my beloved alive or would stop time or . . . I don’t know what.
Books. Right now we are estranged. I look at them on my shelves, the ones I’ve read and enjoyed, the ones waiting for me to open them. They don’t judge. Take your time, they say. We’ll be here when you’re ready.
This is to say I have missed reading and writing. I have missed our book conversations and am in need of something that feeds me—which books and writing usually do—and since I’m not reading right now, I thought maybe we could engage in conversation again and maybe I’ll be able to pick up a thread or a thought that might lead to reading whole pages at a time. I have hope.
Tell me about a time when books abandoned you.
Tell me about a time when books comforted you.
Tell me what books and when and why.
Meanwhile I am keeping company with grief, looking for ways to be open to conversation.
For me, I find that I am unable to read with enjoyment when I'm depressed. It's not that my mind is focused on anything else, it's just that the books I'm reading don't pull me in, and I very much want them to! This is happening to me right now. I would not say that, in general, I am very depressed right now. I've been there before, and this isn't that. But... I've switched from book to book to book. No love. And even streaming the series I really love isn't doing it for me, although it's still better than trying to read. So, I've taken to reading articles in the NY Times, trying to figure out Wordle. Maybe I'll FINALLY start walking and listening to all of the podcasts I haven't listened to since I started working from home! I'll let you know how it goes if you keep me in the loop, too! Love you so!
Music. Lean into music. With or without lyrics, music, like reading and writing, tells a story, yet requires nothing active from us. Not even our full attention. Music, even when it shifts into the background, has the ability to trigger the release of emotion, soothe, and bring healing. Maybe music can hold the space...bridge the gap...until you're reading and writing more again. xo