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Since March, which, according to the date of my last entry here, I have been doing other things. Things other than what, you ask? Things other than writing and reading for pleasure. I have been traversing the path through graduate school. I have been teaching bilingual kindergarten. I have been being in love. I have been learning anew through all of these amazing experiences. All exclusive of writing and reading for pleasure.

But I think it was a necessary break. Why? Because it made me realize how much a part of me both of those activities are. And how important it is to my creative soul that I learn to keep them integrated into my life, even at its busiest. My friend Helena came to visit me earlier this year, and we squeezed all we could into her 1 day visit. And as usual, we talked about books. She was part of the Nashville book club, whose sense of community and sisterhood I still long for six years later. That group of women, eclectic by design, was a beautiful cross-section of all that makes life grand. They were (and most likely still are) beautiful, intelligent, sensual, humorous, introspective, provocative and had a sense of social interest. We made democratic decisions about the books we chose to read, and we shared openly our thoughts and opinions upon having finished (or at least having attempted to finish) each one. Reading those books on a loose deadline did not feel like work. It felt like taking one’s own path toward a common destination. And of course, at the end of the journey, there was food. And usually wine. And lots of conversation. What, on planet earth, could be a better way to spend one evening each month?

I digress. Back to the book at hand. Helena brought with her to my house a book she was beginning to read by Elizabeth Gilbert called Eat, Pray, Love. I looked it over, thought, “Wish I had time to read this one…” and returned it to her. A few weeks ago, with my first semester of graduate school and its final exams behind me, I stopped in at Borders to shop. And this book was the one that caught my eye. I snapped it off the shelf and went to the checkout. I was on my way to help my boyfriend, Chris, at his school’s baccalaureate service, but I expected a little down time between preparation and execution of the duties. Within the first five pages, I had already laughed out loud three times. A good sign. And I thanked God that the first book I had picked up to read for pleasure in over six months appeared to be one that would deliver what I needed: pleasure.

So, as with all things, any activity, art, creative venture that seamlessly incorporates several of my favorite activities — eating, praying and loving, in this case — begins with an unfair advantage. Favorite films? Like Water For Chocolate, Babette’s Feast, Spanglish, Mostly Martha, Chocolat. Honestly, how can you go wrong mixing food and love? They are both driven by passion. And this book folds in faith, which when at its mutually beneficial and ideal best, is the hub of all other passions in life. I am loving it. I woke up at 3:41 a.m. this morning. I am certain that it was not because I had logged enough hours of sleep (I read until about 11:30 p.m. last night); but I wonder if it might have something to do with wanting to continue reading about Ms. Gilbert’s journey through Italy in 2003?

It’s 6:37 a.m., now, and I have had some shredded wheat with strawberries and some Costa Rican coffee. And I am on page 106.

“It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection.” (from The Bhagavad Gita)

That is a strong statement, don’t you agree? How many of us have slogged through phases in our lives, preparing or studying to reach someone else’s goal for our lives? Or have pushed down our own hopes and dreams to fulfill those of another person? I have done this to some degree. Luckily, I have caught myself pretty quickly before the quicksand of a dream unfulfilled pulled me under completely. Right now, I am happy to say, I am doing exactly what I want while diligently preparing to fulfill another destiny that I want with all my being.

There are a few pages in this book (103-105) that make reference to one Italian man’s theory that “every city has a single word that defines it, that identifies most people who live there. If you could read people’s thoughts as they were passing you on the streets of any given place, you would discover that most of them are thinking the same thought. Whatever the majority thought might be — that is the word of the city. And if your personal word does not match the word of the city, then you don’t really belong there.” Then he lets Liz know that Rome’s word is SEX. This sets the author to thinking about her hometown of New York City’s word: ACHIEVE. The word for Los Angeles: SUCCEED.

So of course, this provokes me to think about MY word. I have rattled through several. It used to be CAPRICIOUS (I came up with that one playing an icebreaker game at First Baptist Church in Waco, Texas, 1986). It’s not so much that anymore, although capriciousness still definitely is part of my personality’s tapestry. FAITH? Maybe. Because faith is certainly the foundation of who and what I am. But is it constant and unwavering? I would like to think so, but I would never worry or feel anxiety or have wrenching muscle pain in my neck and shoulders if I did not have chinks in that armour, now would I? AMBITIOUS? Mmmmm. It’s only one aspect. GRACIOUS? I wish that defined me all the time. DOMESTIC GODDESS. Apocalypse now. Heavens, no. EMPATHETIC? Getting warmer. COMPASSIONATE? Warmer still. KIND. Maybe that’s what I would LIKE it to be. Excavating this word will take more time and thought.

The past week has been one of great growth. Of great discovery. Of deep revelation of thoughts and feelings and values. And of celebrating the ability and willingness to communicate.

The train is going by. I love it. I think I must always be near the train. Not this train in particular. Just some train. I could always hear one from my house in Nashville. I cannot remember if there was one nearby in Waco. But I probably had not learned to be attentive to such things at that young age, either.

In the book, Liz’s sister Catherine comes to visit, and she describes her this way:

“She arrives in Rome, prepared as ever. She brings five guidebooks, all of which she has read already, and she has the city pre-mapped in her head. She was completely oriented before she even left Philadelphia. And this is a classic example of the differences between us. I am the one who spent my first weeks in Rome wandering about, 90 percent lost and 100 percent happy, seeing everything around me as an unexplainable beautiful mystery. But this is how the world kind of always looks to me. To my sister’s eyes, there is nothing which cannot be explained if one has access to a proper reference library. This is a woman who keeps THE COLUMBIA ENCYCLOPEDIA in her kitchen next to the cookbooks — and reads it, for pleasure . . . So my sister comes to visit me in Rome — in my new city — and then shows it to me. This is Rome, Catherine-style. Full of facts and dates and architecture that I do not see because my mind does not work in that way. The only thing I ever want to know about any place or any person is the STORY, this is the only thing I watch for — never for aesthetic details.”

Interesting. I am much more like Liz than Catherine. I do generally have an idea, when travelling, where I want to go on particular day or what I want to see — but in retrospect, I think that is primarily due to that fact the I always knew I had some level of ADHD (the lack of focus, inattentive version), and if I did not make at least a skeletal plan, my trip would be over, and I would not have seen or done one thing that I had intended. I love the lack of an agenda, though, and a day with no plans. And a day with no companion, from time to time. I think it sounds like an amazing adventure to go to a beautiful place with someone, spend a day separately, meeting locals, taking photographs, writing stories and then to reconvene to lay on the loom each person’s unique perspective to weave it all together. I am taking a trip to Colorado this summer with Chris and his family — maybe we can make a day like that while we are there.