Inner Stillness
On taking a break, nature walks and reading
I hereby confess… I’m not terribly good at taking breaks. I feel that every day that passes needs to amount to ‘something,’ and that something can’t be just about lazing on the beach and tanning. Back in my backpacking days, when everyone seemed to be reading either The Da Vinci Code or Bridget Jones’s Diary on the beach, I remember being the odd one out, concentrating hard on trying to decode the ancient Chinese Book of Changes - the I ching, and relaxing with Balinese and New Zealand history. Reading “mindlessly” for pleasure was never really my thing. I didn’t seem to derive pleasure from a book that didn’t have something profound to teach me and change my life in some small way (no pressure).
While I mostly feel the same way still, I have learned to relax a little. When a good friend asked me to cat-sit in Val David, I jumped on the opportunity to spend a week away from the city. I packed my books, my bikini and promised myself to take a break from working on my novel. This was going to be a week spent in the company of my teenage girls, cuddling with a cat while reading, taking nature walks and swimming in the river outside of my friend’s house.
My teenage daughters were a little less keen on the idea to begin with and complained about being bored, but crisis was averted as soon as they found a ball and badminton rackets. Both girls took to the kitchen and were cooking pasta with Bolognese sauce and making watermelon-feta salad, which my youngest daughter soon declared as “the best thing in the world.”
The best thing in the world for me is to see my daughters spend time with each other in a way I don’t see them do in the city when they are busy with their own friends. But here, they are best buddies again. Sometimes, they’ll even allow me to enter their precious bubble and laugh at me playing badminton (badly).
I have learned to accept this new reality with a smile. One day, hopefully, I’ll be cool again. In the meanwhile, I appreciate the random chats over coffee, the spontaneous hugs, and the “I love you mum”-s before bedtime.
And I kinda like my own bubble. I recently discovered the poet Kim Addonizio thanks to
’s Visceral Self writing series and I immediately ordered her latest poetry collection Now We’re Getting Somewhere. I don’t remember having so much fun reading a book since Miranda Cowley Heller’s novel The Paper Palace. And by ‘having fun’ I don’t mean a light read, but a read that feels authentic, original, devastating and funny at the same time. I read each poem several times, underlining so many beautiful, poignant and humorous lines, overdosing on their beauty. I love getting excited about good writing, and this was so good I devoured the book in one sitting, and immediately ordered ALL of her books. I read Tell Me on the bus to Val David.
Here is To The Woman Crying Uncontrollably in the Next Stall which I think perfectly illustrates the balance Addonizio strikes, seemingly effortlessly, between words that can devastate you and uplift you at the same time. (In my books I like to mark writing that has made me smile with a smiley face. Kim Addonizio’s poetry collection has many smiley faces, as well as many poignant lines underlined - a rare, and the best combination for me)
When I read Federick Joseph’s poem Making Luxury Out of Flat Soda on the Sun Magazine, I was so touched and blown away, I made another impulsive purchase and ordered his poetry book We Alive, Beloved.
We Alive, Beloved is described as “a radiant collection of poetry that seeks to celebrate, cherish, and magnify the most beautiful parts of our existence.” I think this is a fair description. To write so beautifully about hardship and survival without ever falling into the trap of victimhood, and yet, paint such a detailed, devastating picture of it so we can experience it in our bones, is not an easy thing to pull off as a writer. It is something I deeply admire, and aspire to achieve. Frederick Joseph’s poetry demands space, and many deep breaths. Each poem is a jewel, a gift, that has the potential to transform your life. Like this first poem:
I am taking my time with it, savouring it.
I was debating whether to bring Miranda July’s new novel All Fours with me, which my friend Ines was kind enough to lend me. I am a big Miranda July fan and Ines was so enthusiastic about the book, I was sure I was going to love it. To my greatest surprise, I struggled to get through the first part. And no, it wasn’t the sex, which didn’t bother me, or excite me. So far, it has left me cold, and bored. I don’t tend to stick with a book that doesn’t grab me (because there are too many great books to get through! See above), but I will keep on reading. Perhaps things will improve in the second part? So many people I respect have raved about this book. What am I missing?
On my friend’s bookshelf I spotted with excitement Zadie Smith’s first collection of short stories Grand Union. And again, to my uncomfortable surprise, I found myself often confused, unable to keep track of the characters and the plot, and arrived at the stories’ end, without remembering anything, except a few clever lines. And I love Zadie Smith! Which led me to ask myself, is it the slower pace of life here? Has my brain slowed down too much? Do I have undiagnosed ADD? But alas, story after story, I was just as lost, and not having much fun. I gave up.
I couldn’t convince my daughters to join me for a hike, so I went by myself. I had the perfect podcast to keep me company. The New Yorker's The Writer’s Voice latest episode: Sally Rooney reading Opening Theory from her new novel, Intermezzo. It was an excellent reading and strangely pleasurable to hear Sally Rooney’s Irish accent as I wandered the Canadian nature, in my trademark Converses.
Once upon a time (before motherhood, that is) I was introduced at a cultural event as the “cosmopolitan woman who hikes mountains in her Converses.” Truth be told, Converses were cheaper than hiking boots and I didn’t try to look/be cool. But looking down on my feet now, I couldn’t help but notice that my Converses were indeed very worn-out, and perhaps it was time to order a new pair.
We are leaving Val David tomorrow, so I am eager to sneak in another swim. I’ll give Zadie Smith’s Grand Union one last chance as I work on my tan, but if she doesn’t grab me, I think I’ll just move on to reading Frederick Joseph’s poetry, which I find hard to resist. Perhaps it’s best I accept it: poetry is what my soul craves these days.
And I almost forgot to tell you! A deer dropped by for a visit on Canada Day! Except that I didn’t even know it was Canada Day, or the 1st of July. I was so immersed in the Val David rhythm of life, I was surprised to hear from Liam on Monday midday.
“You’re working from home today?” I asked him.
“No, Imola. It’s Canada Day.”
“Oh,” I said. And then we laughed.
How about you? What are your favourite summer reads? A book, a poem that has inspired you lately, or even changed your life? I love to discover good writing! Please share.
And if you have read any of the books I’ve mentioned above, you are welcome to tell me what you thought of them. What have I missed in Zadie Smith’s Grand Union and Miranda July’s All Fours?
I'm on the waitlist for All Fours at my local library, so I'll let you know what i think when i read it. Have not read the Zadie Smith collection... I used to only wear Converse as well--i still own them in red, white, black, gray and green. But i don't wear them very often anymore as here in LA I only wear slip-ons. And now you know everything!