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Tuesday 6 May 2008 | someone left a cookie
Behold this nice blurb from Publishers Weekly, in re: the Dying Book. Not starred, but a decent review anyway; and maybe they don’t even give starred reviews to Buddhist self-help books? Notice how it says, “clarity”; and, “supremely readable.” Notice too how I’d much rather have a copy of Martha Sielman’s art quilts book, also reviewed this week. Hopeless, I’m hopeless.
In this moving meditation on palliative care, Herself tells a story about a dying Zen teacher who confesses to his students: “Maybe I will die in fear or pain. Remember there is no right way.” This sentiment forms the core of a book that provides practical and philosophical guidance to caregivers. Drawing on her 30 years of experience in the “contemplative care of the dying,” Herself honestly enumerates the challenges of being with the dying while exalting it as “a school for unlearning the patterns of resistance…[it] enjoins us to be still, let go, listen, and be open to the unknown.” According to Herself, “bearing witness to dying” can teach innumerable lessons to the living—assuming “we give up our tight control strategies, our ideas of what it means to die well.” Herself is a Zen priest, and while many of her teachings derive from Buddhism, her supremely readable book will attract readers of all faiths who will appreciate her clarity and compassion and the poignancy of these stories of ordinary people facing their final hours with quiet courage.
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Are you considering changing the blog name from the Unreliable Narrator to the Supremely Readable Narrator? Because you could, you know?
Horrible to realize one has been undergoing unreliable narration withdrawal, symptoms of which include wondering whether it’s even worth it to turn on the computer, inappropriate laughter that one doesn’t bother explaining to anyone around one because they wouldn’t get it, lingering over textiles even though everything one has ever attempted sewing has turned out twisted and distorted looking, lapsing into third person until one’s friends and loved ones are screaming at one to give it a rest, and a compulsion to know where one’s cell phone is at all times.