Reading my way out of a diaper bag

All those naysayers who said my life as I knew it would end when I had a child can go kiss a moose. I still make time for the things I want to do, but I've actually become more efficient because I have less time to waste. This is good for me, since most of the things I used to waste time doing weren't really all that interesting or good for me anyway.

The writer's strike helped me phase out my "active TV watching" - that is, the shows I'd make time to watch or tape when they were new, as opposed to just flipping through channels. And two of the three shows I was actively watching were phased out anyway (the Bionic Woman and Crossing Jordan). When the few shows I was still remotely involved in finally started back up with their new material, I just wasn't interested anymore. Reading is so much better for my mind, and much less annoying - I am not nearly as tolerant of ads as I once was, especially now that I'm reading more and am accustomed to uninterrupted entertainment and mental engagement. True, there's always the mute button, but then I'm bored and looking for something to do.

Yet another reason I'm not actively seeking out and watching the shows I had been into - CSI, Law & Order, Women's Murder Club? I just can't do the violence and death and suffering implicit in them anymore. It sounds corny, and this is not in any way intended as a judgment against anyone who loves crime drama (I still like reading it, which is somehow different), but now that I'm a mother - now that I've created, nurtured, and borne another human life, with my own body - I just can't deal with death in the same way I used to. I really think that there's something animal that gets triggered in us as a species that's built in to ensure survival, because I can tell you it was immediate and instant once I held Ben for the first time. Now, my empathy for the mothers in the shows is raging out of control, as are the maternal instincts that want to protect every single child on earth from suffering and harm. Stuff from those shows gets into my head, and I start thinking, "Oh my god...what if that happens to Ben? I have to go check on him right now..." and then the insanity begins. I won't do that to myself anymore. It's just too disturbing at this point.

I suppose I could find a new genre of TV watching - say, comedy, or sitcoms. But I am so sick of the same crappy formula. Man is an idiot. Man is also fat pig, and is slob. Man somehow is married to gorgeous, thin, tolerant, supermodel wife. Man, amazingly (given that he is fat, messy, and stupid) takes supermodel wife - who also functions as his full time maid, chef, and clothing consultant - completely for granted. Man treats wife like cave man and is about as communicative. Wife is frustrated with man.

And these situations are portrayed as funny?! ARRRRGH!! I find them trite, unevolved, and, truth be told, quite depressing. If anyone has any suggestions as to good comedy that isn't completely lost in the 50's with regard to gender roles, I'd welcome them. I'm not going all anti-TV prudish; David and I still love watching The Simpsons and Seinfeld together, but that's about it. And at least when I watch things with him, I have someone to talk to or snuggle during the ads. :)

And so, I turn with renewed appreciation to my fiction and non-fiction bibliofriends. I finished Dean Koontz's The Husband, which was a riveting thriller with whiplash-inducing plot twists that were absolutely spinetingling. My brother turned me on to Koontz, who I am delighted to report is a phenomenal writer. Not only does he spin a mean tale, but his imagery and word painting are just so real you feel like you're there. I love a writer who can suck you right into the book like that.

I then picked up Zadie Smith's On Beauty. My friend Jen had turned me on to Zadie a while ago with her debut novel White Teeth, which was very good, but I think On Beauty was even better. Both novels delved deeply and intricately into culture/nationality/race/class clashes, but perhaps because Beauty was set in America and the characters were more believable and sympathetic, I enjoyed it on a deeper level than Teeth.

Recently I have begun Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. While I don't necessarily identify with the author's beliefs or practices, so far I am finding it an enlightening and entertaining glimpse into someone else's spiritual and personal growth journey. Gilbert is hilarious, heartbreaking, insighful, and sometimes annoying (her comedy seems forced and a bit over the top sometimes). But I am having fun reading it so far.

For the Buddhist study and meditation group at my church, we are reading Traleg Kyabgon's The Essence of Buddhism. This is a very good book, but it sometimes keeps the kid gloves on when dealing with difficult issues. I was so annoyed when I read the chapter on karma and rebirth, both of which are probably the top two stickiest subjects Buddhists have to reconcile in their faith. After much turgid definition and explanation, at the very end of the chapter tat addresses both concepts, Kyabgon writes: "...even if rebirth does not exist, we have not lost anything by believing in it, because leading a moral life makes us into better human beings, endowing this life with meaning and significance." I laughed out loud; so what was the whole point of that chapter, then?

Paul Norton of the Milwaukee Mindfulness Center gave a fabulous seminar on Buddhism and meditation at my church at the beginning of April. It was just fantastic. He explained both subjects easily in less than 2 minutes. On karma, he explained that if you do good things and live well, good things will definitely happen but they will be internal, not external. He also said that the literal definition of reincarnation (as in a soul is plucked from one body and then reinserted into another body) is implausible, but rebirth on a figurative level - that we are reborn in every moment, with every breath - is indeed very real. I found his explanations infinitely more helpful than the book. :)

For the Sacred Poetry class, also given at my church, we're reading a lot of Rumi, a Sufi poet who has written some absolutely beautiful (and difficult) poems. We're also reading Mary Oliver's Thirst, which has some of the most deeply poignant and exquisite poems I have ever read. They are so musical in their construction; each one is like a song.

So what are YOU reading these days? You can post a comment anonymously, you know, without having to create a Blogger account...