Before I moved away from Chicago I made one last visit to my health center, this time for a healing touch session. I sat talking with the healer for a while before and after she did her work and had the book Your Body Speaks Your Mind by Deb Shapiro recommended to me. When I got my library card in January I put a bunch of books on request that they didn't have in my local branch and this one finally came in this week. Prior to it I had a short affair with Michael Pollan's book, The Botany of Desire, and also read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and her family. Thus far it's been a very "food and body" year. The focus there has only increased since I began my surprising new job as a cook in a simple cafe. By the way, I do want to get some posts written in the future, about the deep joy that wells up while I'm slicing artisan salamis and subsequently arranging them with arugula or fontina, for instance.
My tendency is to always push for more. More comfort, more style, more knowledge, more sensuality, more, more, more. While I feel that is something that makes me the brave, strong, and creative woman I am, it also can run me into the ground. I am realizing that my greed for a more full life can stress me out. What I want to do is be more gentle and possessed of a graceful equanimity in experiences. That does, somewhat obviously, mean that I'm still wanting more, which is painfully ironic to me, but at least the more I'm wanting is one I'm trying not to push for.
Lady Chatterley's Lover has been rising in my heart lately and so has nostalgia. I am full of vernal, sensual romance about life in general. These feelings have translated into many wonderful experiences. Upon gleefully accepting that I am healing in mind and body I also decided to put Deb Shapiro's book back in the library stacks for now. Though the introduction and first chapter were compelling I'm resisting the urge to push for more and let the knowledge I have worked so hard to acquire settle in. I'm taking a resting break, from the pursuit of direct learning, during which even more healing is bound to occur.
Instead, I am waiting for Lolita to come in at the library. I want to see how I take to Nabokov's most impacting and controversial work. I plan to be savoring prose, in general, for awhile. I aim to rekindle my infinite zeal for the soulful music of artistically wrought language and in doing so, also allow the eager student in me a relaxing break, abound in spring-time beauty and linguistic dance.