It helps even if you only read just one page a day.
Courtney Love spent a part of her life hanging on the coat-tails of one Kurt Cobain. Many fans of his heart-rending music and lyrics chose to compare him with the late Jim Morris of the classic rock band The Doors. I can see why. These folk-rock icons had something tragic in common. Both of them committed suicide. Somewhere in France, the country where Morris took his life, a shrine stands above where his maimed body lies.
But, oh dear me, I was going to talk to you about my love of reading books. But perhaps mentioning these two cult personalities wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Because that’s the one literary genre that utterly fascinates me. I love reading biographies of famous men and women throughout the history of humanity. I don’t think I’ve even covered fifty famous men and women, so you can imagine, I have quite a way to go.
I do, at the moment, have books on Mandela, Gandhi and, would you believe, Winston Churchill, on my shelves. I also have a book or two on Myanmar’s First Lady and Mother Teresa of Kolkata. Poetry is another genre that fascinates me. At the moment, I’m exploring the tragic love affairs of Sylvia Plath and her husband, British laureate and teacher, Ted Hughes. I also have some books of poetry from South African icon, Ingrid Jonker. Ingrid and Sylvia have much in common with Morris and Cobain as well.
They led tragic, traumatized and hectic lives by our own ordinary standards. They also had their hearts broken. Where love is concerned, I’ve been fortunate. Yes, I have been let down and disappointed on a few occasions, but my heart was never broken. Yes, I cried some rivers here and there, and yes, I can even admit to thinking the dreadful thought of just wanting to curl up and die.
I’m not fond of saying this, but this is how human nature works. This is the dark side as they say. Ladies, let’s always try and look on the bright side of life and all the curve balls that it throws at us. Consider for a moment when a man breaks off what you thought was a fabulous relationship. Be rational and try to believe that perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be. Especially pertinent for the poorest among us is hope.
Hope keeps us alive. Sylvia Plath and Ingrid Jonker, it seems to me, lost all hope. Ted Hughes broke Sylvia Plath’s heart. South African-born writer, Andre Brink, among others, broke Ingrid Jonker’s heart. I don’t spend too much time over these. In fact, I don’t spend enough time over them. Self-help books are a big help, no matter what your circumstances in life and what your calling is.
Perhaps my lack of time spent over these helpful guides of which there are hundreds in our local libraries and thousands more pages across the internet, comes down to the fact that I start my day, and end it, with some spiritual reading. Out of respect for all readers out there, because our religions and spiritual leanings are so different, I won’t be mentioning what great book I spend time with regularly.
I have a dream.
What does it really mean to have faith?
I opened a draft page for this post on having faith a few days ago. The legendary line right at