Of Books and Cultures

This past weekend I worked at the semi-annual book sale put on by the Friends of our public library. It was gratifying to see the number of book lovers who crammed into the large sale room, looking for a good read. By the end of the 4-day sale, the Friends had gained some $10,000 to be used for special projects at the library which the meager city budget would never cover.

My love of libraries is a longstanding one. Our home in the suburbs of Chicago was located just a block from the Dole Branch of the public library, and I can remember going there from the time I could first begin to read -- and no doubt before. Children's books had a whole separate room, and I can still see vividly two fairy tale illustrations painted in bright tempera on long, vertical, cardboard flats that dominated the room. One was of a stack of animals representing the Brementown Musicians, and the other a picture of Rapunzel with her blond hair in a braid hanging down the length of her tower.

That library had a particular smell to it which is equally memorable. I still catch hints of it from time to time in libraries today, though it's blended with that of synthetic carpet and other modern odors.

I loved that children's room, but how exciting it was in the middle grades to move into an occasional volume from the "grownup" section.

My point? Just reminiscing! And urging: libraries are great places. Read a book! Tell somebody else about a good book you read. Read a book to a child. And support your local library!

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Perhaps the most seminal book in my earlier education was Ruth Benedict's Patterns of Culture. By reading it and related works by renowned anthropologist Margaret Mead, I came to realize that there were many cultures in the world that didn't just look different on the outside, but which represented an entirely different world view than my own.

I'm currently reading two books by anthropologist/ethnobotanist Wade Davis. At one point in his Light at the Edge of the World (National Geographic, 2001), he quotes a linguist colleague speaking about the Penan, a nomadic tribe living in Borneo (he was studying them in the early 1990s). "There is one word for 'he,' 'she,' and 'it,' but six for 'we' . . . . Sharing is an obligation, so there is no word for 'thank you.'"

Davis goes on to say, "The greatest contrast between the Penan and ourselves may well be the value that they place on community. Since they carry everything on their backs, they have no incentive to accumulate material objects. They measure wealth not by the extent of their possessions but by the strength of their relationships."

(More on Davis' ideas to come.)

Spring into Newness

"What's new?" -- an old but very important question.

I have just returned from a visit to Arizona: Sedona, the Grand Canyon (neither of which I have ever seen before) and Tucson, where I lived for 6 years some 30 years ago. Here is newness aplenty!

What a wonder spring in the desesrt is! I always marvel at the powerful vitality of the Sonora desert; it's not just a dead, brown wasteland, but a very lively place in its own way. It's as if the life forms there radiate the energy of the sun that blazes so brightly, each tough little plant and creeping lizard very much alive.

Spring in Tucson seems to multiply this effect even more. Everything is throbbing with color: bougainvilla with its masses of astonishing deep red, ocotillo whips topped by fiery orange blooms, and along the roadsides , golden California poppies and blue-purple lupine. My friend's garden is filled with flowers of every sort. Many plants I could not name, but her roses are enormous, their fragrance out-perfumed only by the jasmine. Such amazing and riotous beauty offers a tremendous opportunity to wonder and to rejoice with gratitude.

All this is in addition to the mysterious red rock formations that circle Sedona, and the breathtaking majesty of the Grand Canyon.

The power and artistry of the landscapes were accompanied by the inspiration from a spiritual workshop I attended while in Arizona entitled "Don't Fence Me In." This is an apt title for my experiences of newness there. I came away motivated to find more that is new in my moment-to-moment life and to not pull back when I find new activities taking me out of my "comfort zone." I vowed to see new, do new, and Be new.

It's our habits that fence us in -- habits not just of actions, but of words, thoughts, emotions, beliefs, convictions. From infancy on, people learn so many habit patterns from family members, teachers, friends, the media. Such automatic thoughts and behaviors can turn into a largely unconscious, unhappy and meaningless life.

How to tear down the fences and realize spiritual freedom? A few ideas: Be a skeptic; ask questions constantly. Be aware; take in all the amazing details around you and also be aware of just where your thoughts come from and where they are taking you. A popular phrase with a lot of meaning: Be Here Now. Now and new go together.

You don't have to travel to engage newness. But you do need to be willing: willing to question, willing to change, willing to realize that the Power some call God, or Love, never changes. And That Power can lead you into constant newness.

So ask often -- yourself and others -- "What's new?"