Category Archives: Writing
The things I don’t think about
I don’t think there is something I haven’t thought about. Well, perhaps there is, but with this thought stated right here, right now, I have thought about that as well. I know, very confusing. Tell me about it!
Isn’t it amazing how easy it is to confuse and fool ourselves by the mere thought starting with “I don’t think about it”!
Here is what happened many years ago and probably not only once, when I was trying to overcome a heartbreak of a “love crash” for a friend who didn’t return my feelings. After a short break in a long train of thoughts about him, I congratulated myself: “Hey, I am not thinking about him!” After a while I understood the ridiculousness of this thought and had to laugh out loud. This started the healing process.
Today, I am grateful for all those experiences and how my life turned out, because even if I didn’t want those experiences at that time, I treasure all I have in my life today; at least when I am aware of what I have.
The thought “I don’t think about this” reminds me often of the famous experiment: “Now, don’t think of a blue elephant in front of your door!” This flash of memory is followed by a big grin on my face and a realization that both the greatest and the worst wizards of the world, as I experience it, live in my own head.
Books with all senses
(Inspired by an exercise from the book by Margret Geraghty “The five-minute writer: Exercise and inspiration in creative writing in five minutes a day” – http://www.amazon.com/Five-Minute-Writer-Exercise-inspiration-creative/dp/1845283392/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372715967&sr=1-1&keywords=the+five+minute+writer– to write about the things to be happy about and how we experience them with all senses)
Vision
When reading a good book, especially a novel, I don’t really see the words. Supported by imagination, the words flow into pictures or rather into a movie, of which I am probably as much a director as the book’s authors is. And if the imaginative director has problems to realize the ideas of the text director, then the probability is high that at some point I, as a reader, might give up the reading.
Hearing
The movie my imagination is creating has a clear sound, especially in dialogues. Although, I noticed an interesting phenomenon: when watching a movie based on a book I have read and liked before watching, the difference in voices between the movie’s and imagined characters bothers me much less than the difference in their appearance. In fact, I must say, I wouldn’t be able to describe the looks and the sounds of the characters in the book, only when seeing them filmed I can say that they should have looked differently, for example, taller or smaller, hair is darker or with more curls, complexion thinner or stronger etc. But here, I slipped again into vision.
Taste
How does a book taste? I have never eaten one, I must say, but while reading of good or bad food, my imagination does provide me on a taste feeling, especially when it is explicitly indicated as salty, bitter, sweet, bittersweet (in case of a positive feeling, I am thinking here of how a grapefruit tastes), strong – when related to coffee – and many other. Of course, the taste is different for every person. When I see the word chocolate, I taste dark chocolate of at least 75% cocoa in it. My husband tastes milk chocolate, because this is the right “chocolate way” for him.
Touch
Hmmm, there are two aspects to this.
First, there is the texture of a book. My personal favorite is paperback. I love the texture of pages: flexible but firm enough to bear wonders. And the cover of a paperback is close to the texture of its pages. I think that hard cover is too bold, but if there is no paperback yet out for a certain book I want to read, then hard cover is a compromise. I am still immune against e-books. I do have some on my computer. But I hardly read them. Not so long ago, I have printed one, so that I could read it on paper.
A sheet of paper with words on it has a magical attraction to me. I might be appalled or get bored after reading the printed words, but the first message that is sent by them to my brain and which I follow obediently is: “Read us!”
Another aspect of touch, while reading a book, is the sense that the books generate when being read. These can vary from chill or goose-bumps to hard and rough and soft and gentle.
Have you noticed that watching a movie does not generate the sense of a touch quite as strongly as the books do? The feelings of being happy, sad, scared, excited, terrified or overrun with joy are well transmittable visually, but if you see someone walking on the sand, you will not feel the sand texture yourself unless it is explicitly addressed or talked about, as for example a character asking another: “Can you feel the sand between your toes?”
“So, what is better than reading a book?” you may ask. I can only give a silly answer to this: “Reading more books!”
Smell
Oh, I almost forgot to write about the smell of a book. Like touch, I think there is the smell of the book itself and the smell its text generates in your imagination.
For the smell of a book, I have heard many times that the real book lovers enjoy the smell of the old books and they just adore going to libraries, especially to the rooms inhabited by ancient books. I feel differently about this. The smell of old books suffocates me, and I try to get distance from an old book or read it quickly, as though not to let it pull me in the past as an ancient old oil lamp of a Ginny.
Please, don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy books and texts written long ago, although I prefer the contemporary books and texts. The “old” books and texts should be printed on new and fresh paper, in order to make me come closer. So, you could say, I like looking at books from a new, fresh angle. Well, all right, I know, this bridge to something deeply wise and sophisticated didn’t work. But what is true is that I love the smell of the newly printed books. I don’t know why, but I do. And because of that, my heaven is not a library but a bookstore with new books coming fresh from print.
And now about the smell generated by reading: Can I describe it? No, I can’t. Can you? All I can say here is that most probably like hearing and touch, the generated smell is based on the smells (or sounds and textures for hearing and touch) I already know and they might vary very much from what the author has intended. I guess that is why, book clubs and communities will never disappear, simply because perception of a book is so different from person to person and we can get so many surprises when discussing a book we read with someone else.
Things you can get at the hairdresser’s
There is a small hairdresser family business close to where we live and where all of us three go to get our hair cut. Niklas and his father got their haircuts about two weeks ago. Last week, it was my turn. I picked Niklas at his crèche and we headed to Markus and Tanja. Niklas said that he was going to get cookies there, where he certainly did every time. So, he was sure of this time as well. When we arrived, Markus met him with a cheerful: “Hello, Niklas, my friend!” Niklas loved this and smiled, a bit blushing, but happy nonetheless to be greeted in such a way. There were some people waiting and all smiled at him. After taking his jacket off, Niklas headed to the cookie jar. He certainly had his share.
While I was getting my hair cut by Tanja, Niklas was playing with his toy-cars and was demonstrating to Markus what his cars can do. He loved being asked about his cars. For a short moment he was even ready to give one of the cars to Tanja, but then thought differently of this.
After my hair was done, Tanja gave Niklas a smooze fruit ice and then she and I went to the cashier machine, so that I could pay. Niklas asked me what I was doing. I told him about paying for my haircut. He said that he wanted to pay for his ice cream. He didn’t want to hear that this was a gift and insisted on paying for it. So I gave him a 20 Danish Crones coin and he paid to Tanja. She wanted to equal my payment by subtracting this sum, but I insisted that the smooze was a separate item paid by Niklas. My two-and-a-half-years old son was very content with this move from my side. He nodded very solemnly.
When we came home and had our supper we talked about what we got at the hairdresser’s. When I prompted that he got an ice cream, he insisted that he didn’t get it, but buy it. Then we talked about haircuts and when I touched my shortly cut hair Niklas asked: “Do you have now a new head?”
Being kind
“To build a respectful, kind and loving relationship, begin by being respectful, kind and loving to yourself.” Ariel and Shya Kane
We have a tradition in my family to say “Good night” in our thoughts or aloud to those whom we love dearly but who are far away or are not anymore among living….
We did it since my mother, father and I stayed in Algeria for three years and my sister was alone at a boarding school near Moscow. Then we did it after my father died. Later we extended to all we loved, even if there were sleeping in the same house or in the same bed. I still do it time to time. And the night before my husband’s birthday party this year it occurred to me that I never ever said Good-night to myself. I wondered shortly why and then said: “Good night, dear!” I had a strange but very warm feeling spreading as a wave from my head to toe.
Next morning of the party, my mother came to help me with preparations. In the past, we had stressful time doing this and had arguments what to do and how to do different things. But this time, it was so relaxing and we smiled and laughed a lot. And at some point, my mother said very spontaneously: “I love you!” You must know that she grew up in a time when saying this was considered as being loose or not educated and so on. So saying this is definitely not something that she does easily. And when she said it in the past she whether said as an answer to my “I love you” or I simply didn’t believe her. I knew she loves me in her way, but my inner reaction to her saying loving me was: “Oh she just says it like that, she doesn’t mean it!” But this time, I truly believed her and hurried to hug her. And when she said it at this moment, a similar wave of warmth washed over me as the night before when I said “Good night” to myself. And I recognized that if I am kind to myself then I am able to be kind to my mother, to be kind to people I love dearly and even to be kind to all people whom I meet on my way.