I am a lover, writer and sculptor of myths and fairy tales. I love love, love that transcends death, the physical body, pain, suffering and all that nonsense. I am old and young, wise and foolish, calm and angry, happy and sad, content and restless. I am a Wild Woman and this is part of my journey. Here is where I put some of my ideas about living, loving, creating and transcending. Follow me if you dare.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Self-Help Books as Wise Help
I love inspirational books like the The Power of Now and Women Who Run with the Wolves. I enjoy reading wisdom worth passing down. I even feel as if I have changed afterward or
that I struggle to change myself afterward. They put me on my guard, and I try
to follow their words, but then, after a few months, I backslide. My father said
to me once in a dream that I was his most stubborn child. Perhaps I am; I know
I only learn things from experience. I only know life lessons in my bones from
living them. Only when the universe grabs me by the throat and shakes the
snot out me do I change. Only when it applies vise grips to the thumbs of
my ego do I notice it. Only when something shakes me to the core, growls and
snarls at me with hair up and dares me to keep going on the wrong path that
leads into its teeth, do I turn around and head another way. Only when I have
fallen can I get up. It may be because of my First Nations genes. I was brought up to understand that only by experiencing do we truly learn. So, we make decisions, some right some wrong. It is how we learn.
A story that exemplifies this is about two Native American men
in a boat, one old, one young. The old man knew the river well, each stone,
each gill. It was the young man’s first trip down the river. As they paddled
along, the old man looked up. He saw the younger man was taking them right into
some rocks, but he said nothing even as they headed straight for them. "Why?" one
may ask. The boat might be damaged. They might capsize. Why not say something? Because
many things may or may not happen. The only sure thing was that if he spoke, the
boy would never become an old man who knew the river so well, each stone, each
gill.
So, where does that
leave books that inspire? I think of them as the wise help in Joseph Campbell's stages of the Hero's Journey. They may appear
with a word, a phrase at a critical time in our lives, an insight that will help
us on the path. I do not think any words can take us all the way, but they can
shine the light when we are ready to go through the next door. They can give us
hope when we lack it. They can illuminate the troubled path behind us so that
we can see our suffering for what it was: an obstacle on our way to betterment.
So, read books, watch movies, look for omens, for words of guidance. Someone who
has gone before has left you help along the way. It is only waiting for your
eyes to find it, your ears to hear it, your mind to grasp it.
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