Recommended by: Catherine Holmes Clark, who also has a detailed site about her journey with environmental illness.

The sweet relief of reading about Buddhism from the perspective of women connected with their bodies took me by surprise. Until I read this book, I didn’t realize how much I’d been reading around a feeling of exclusion in [...]]]>

Recommended by: Catherine Holmes Clark, who also has a detailed site about her journey with environmental illness.

The sweet relief of reading about Buddhism from the perspective of women connected with their bodies took me by surprise. Until I read this book, I didn’t realize how much I’d been reading around a feeling of exclusion in The Wise Heart by Jack Kornfield and other books about Buddhism centered on male experience.

Thirty-three essays by different Buddhist women are divided into five sections:

• Body as Suffering – bringing awareness to the experience of chronic illness.
• Body as Nature – the feeling of failure because giving birth brought pain, even with awareness.
• Body as Gender – helping a daughter remain aware as she navigates adolescent self-judgment of her body.
• Body as Vehicle – dealing with difficulties through “no more struggle,” “using poison as medicine,” and “seeing whatever arises as enlightened wisdom.”
• Body as Self – navigating addiction to alcohol, compulsive eating, and the loneliness of being embodied.

Images from the essays have woven themselves into my awareness.

At my cutting board chopping carrots or parsnips, I think of Darlene Cohen’s essay, “The Only Way I Know of to Alleviate Suffering.” She writes about helping people with arthritis discover that they can cut carrots by bringing their awareness to the details of their bodies’ experience with the board, the knife, and the carrots.

I recommend this book to anyone who wants to revel in the Buddhist perspective of women connected to their bodies.

Available at Powell’s Books.

Recommended by: Dave Hingsburger’s blog

The book begins, “My name is Perry L. Crandall and I am not retarded. Gram always told me the L stood for Lucky.” Perry is indeed lucky to be raised by his observant, patient Gram, since the rest of his family is avaricious and self-centered in the extreme.

He is also [...]]]>

Recommended by: Dave Hingsburger’s blog

The book begins, “My name is Perry L. Crandall and I am not retarded. Gram always told me the L stood for Lucky.” Perry is indeed lucky to be raised by his observant, patient Gram, since the rest of his family is avaricious and self-centered in the extreme.

He is also lucky to be employed at Holsted’s Marine Supply (where he does a great job), and to have a best friend Keith who lives on a sailboat in the harbor.

Perry makes the most of the opportunities that luck brings his way, with hard work, integrity, and the careful attention to detail taught by his Gram. He calls himself an auditor, a listener, as he observes the conversations and behaviors of the people around him. His commentary on their quirks is one of the pleasures of the book.

The dramatic plot, as Perry copes with winning $12 million in the lottery and other life events, is a vehicle for a clear moral about not labeling people. Over and over, Perry says he is not retarded, and that it is wrong to label others as well. His successes demonstrate the point.

In a book bringing such awareness to language, it was jarring to see the repeated use of “gyp” to mean “cheated” without comment or apology. The author may need to gain awareness of the discrimination suffered by the Gypsy/Rom peoples.

Overall, a thought-provoking read.

Available at Powell’s Books.