Boldly Brunching --and at Length

This morning was the Christmas brunch with five other women I've been getting together with for 34 to 39 years. Always fun and this one for no particular reason was particularly so.

This time instead of getting each other bath products, etcetera, we each gave some money to some good cause. Mine was to pay for all school fees and books for a very underprivileged Indian child for a year.

In spite of having co-authored The Healing Power of Doing Good, I'm not naturally a great do-gooder, much more prone to trying to paddle my own canoe without making trouble for anybody. That has changed some since I collaborated on that book. (We teach what we need to learn.)

And I do have a special interest in India, and was so often surrounded and followed by poor kids there, wanting rupees and to know "what is your country." So I can visualize such a child. And I do find it satisfying, far more so than a more generic "good thing" I might have chosen.

My mother arranged for me to sponsor an Indian child at Christmas one year. I liked that, but didn't feel it as directly.

Anyway, the breakfast was fun -- brie crepes for me -- and I already feel the holiday is well celebrated.

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Boldness and Keeping On

I've been posting less the last few weeks because I've been working extremely hard. Didn't want you to think it was because my boldness was flagging.

I grew up in a retailing family, and December was the time of most intense work; so that feels normal. As a writer/editor/critiquer/consultant, I've found that December is either madly busy or very quiet. People either want things finished by Christmas or they don't have time to get stuff to me until the first of the year. This is one of the busy years, which I prefer.

Writers often like to talk about what a hard line of work we're in: having to figure out how to make money and strive for immortal art at the same time. Once I heard writer Tim McLaurin respond on a panel to a comment about how hard the writing career is. He said, "Well, it is, and so is driving a Pepsi truck, which was what I was doing before."

I've come to think there aren't any smooth and easy lines of work. Which is why we need to keep the boldness muscles toned. As well as the keep-going, resilience muscles. Hats off to all those who are currently in the most intense period of the teaching semester.

Welcome to new regulars, Aimee Westbrook and Sue Ivy.

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Charles Dickens Worries About His Sales

The New York Times City Room blog is carrying a story on Dickens' handwritten revisions of "A Christmas Carol." This post "A Christmas Rewrite" by Alison Leigh Cowan is a companionable reminder that we all have to revise--and Dickens made at least one major after the copy had gone to the printer.

I was mainly struck by the fact that he wrote this lovable classic, about a cold-hearted rich man who turns generous, under financial pressure himself.

"At the time "A Christmas Carol" was written, Dickens feared for his own future. He had six children to feed, a large house in London to maintain and a lavish lifestyle. Christmas was approaching. Yet the work he was then producing, a few chapters at a time, “Martin Chuzzlewit,’’ was not selling as well as earlier installments of “The Pickwick Papers” or “Nicholas Nickleby.” Bitterly, he confided to a friend that his bank account was bare."

He turned out his Christmas story just in time for the season, but in spite of its golden future, it fared dismally financially that year.

Good (emboldening) to remember these stories, especially knowing the happy ending.

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Party Time

My friend Carrie throws more parties in a year than the total number I attend in the same period. (She's the same one who started an international music festival in Raleigh.)

This afternoon I'm popping in at an affair in which she has long been a/the major sponsor: the 17th annual Boylan Heights Arts Walk. It's a neighborhood-wide juried arts fair that draws some quite good artists, including at least one represented in the NC Museum of Art (a very big deal), and a range of fine work in glass-blowing, clothing design, ceramics, photography, cabinetry, basket-making, jewelry, sculpture, weaving. Etc.

Who wouldn't go to this, you say?

Alright, I'm going at least this one more time, even though it's forty minutes from my house and I've been half a dozen years before and my leisure time impulse is usually to stay home and read and weed (or rake). And I'll have a good time and probably pick up a Christmas present or two.

But I'm still an introvert! Even though I talk a lot and spill a great deal! And that's okay!

At least it's not raining.


And welcome to Aysha Nasser, photographer and sometime student of Hindi. Is there anyone I've forgotten to welcome to the regulars club here? Let me know and I'll say a double welcome.

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An Encouraging, Emboldening Movie for Writers and Other Passionate Persisters

I was slow to go to see Julie and Julia. I'm not a cook. And the movie is, as you likely know, about a blogger named Julie who spends a year cooking every recipe in Julia Child's grand-opus cookbook.

But last night it was on at the $1.50 theatre, and Husband Bob (who is a sometime cook)and I went. And I am so glad I saw it.

It's an extraordinary movie. It shows the writing/publishing process as well as I've seen a movie do it. Even though it collapses and summarizes the years and stages involved, it's true to the difficulties and triumphs. When Julia Child finally gets her first copy of her first book in hand, I felt more intense emotion, (seemingly) on her behalf than in comparable moments in my own life.

There's a reason it was purer joy for J. Child. The movie--thank God!--didn't show all the correcting of proofs and bound galleys, etc. that come before that point. So her book seemed to rise full-blown from her manuscript.

Still...the heart of the matter was there. As well as a demonstration of her long struggle and tenacity and passion.

I was dripping tears in the theatre. And, though maybe there's no connection, tripped just outside afterwards and fell to the pavement like a rag doll. Wasn't hurt or troubled by this, and didn't bother to jump right up either. Just let Bob haul me to my feet and went on with whatever I'd been saying.

At any rate, it was all very cathartic and I felt so proud of both Julie and Julia and of all of us.

And that includes new regulars here: Hidup Lenang, annakate, and Mikki Aby. Welcome!

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Getting Rich

I just wrote a perfectly nice post on this subject with lots of links, hit Publish, and the text disappeared totally, nowhere to be found.

Here's roughly what it said. The Dallas Morning News has a story today that says: Wanna feel rich? Give.

The story cited the book I co-authored with Allan Luks: The Healing Power of Doing Good, which says that helping other people feels good and is good for your health. And you don't even have to be super-bold to do it.

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Boldly Took a Break

I didn't even blog during the second half of my week at Rancho La Puerta. That's how engaged I was in what was going on right there.

Now I'm back at my desk in Raleigh, reorienting. Feels a bit strange not to be spending the day in yoga clothes.

More later.

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Wednesday Wisdom

It's midweek here in my term as novelist-in-residence in heaven (Rancho La Puerta spa in Tecate, Mexico)and I've had several bits of personal enlightenment.

*A few months ago I posted about having a contrarian tendency, so often wanting to play the wrong card for a situation, taking some perverse delight in that. Sometime yesterday, I got a sense that that is changing. And, for a change, that would be alright with me.

*I discovered in a yoga class yesterday how little I listen. Maybe I was feeling particularly foggy but I think I heard about a third of the directions. I did a shoulderstand with my shoulders in the wrong place in relation to the blanket and the teacher came over and hoisted me by the legs as if he were pulling a tree out of the ground and moved me (upside down) to a slightly new location. As you can imagine, this experience will probably stay with me.

*I find myself taking in compliments. This is, for me, a really nice change.

*I'm not pushing myself to work out as hard as usual and I'm not troubled by this.

*The thought has come to my mind: stop fighting. This feels like a good thing, not at all a backing down from my ambitions but more of a lighter touch maybe.

*I'm older than I was in 2007 when I last was here (at 58). I'm more wiped out from a morning with a mountain hike and two exercise classes than I was then--and more wrinkled in the unsparing light of this Mexican sun on my bathroom mirror. (But I can still do the intense morning! and there's a 91 year old woman in my writing classes who is lively and vital and setting me a good example here)

It has been an excellent first half of the week.

Also, I have shot some photos, as requested, but I forgot my camera and am struggling to figure out sending from a borrowed camera phone. I hope to get them here eventually. In the meantime, the link to Rancho above goes directly to a photo-tour of the place.

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Spa Teaching

This morning I went to three exercise classes: one working out with a heavy bar, next circuit training, then an hour and a half of Iyengar yoga.

This afternooon,as novelist-in-residence for the week at Rancho La Puerta spa in Tecate, Mexico, I taught my writing class. Teaching the class took more out of me than all the hopping and hoisting and yog-ing.

Teaching is the most demanding thing I ever do that I can do. I once tried to learn how to sell mortgages and that was simply beyond me. Almost no one wanted to rely on my wisdom on the subject of mortgages.

My brand of bold is teaching. It's the thing that feels scariest of the things I actually am capable of. Which is my definition of bold.

What activity takes you to the place where possible meets demanding? Or do you have lots of them?

(Other good adventures in the last 24 hours included a concert of Tibetan sacred music which the audience of about 100 listened to lying down.

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Adventure Is What We're Not Used To

First full day at Rancho La Puerta in Mexico, the spa where I'm teaching writing this week.

Yesterday after leaving leafy North Carolina in the morning, I was on a bus by early afternoon from the San Diego airport to the Mexican town of Tecate (yes, they make Tecate beer here) Suddenly in sun and mountains and TV Western country. At least that's what it looks like to me, because I'm not accustomed to this kind of boulder-strewn brown mountain land. As I hiked this morning the mountain tops looked like Nutty Buddys rising out of the clouds. Nothing could be more exotic.

Catching sight from the road yesterday of a coyote standing out in a field was thrilling.

What I'm also not used to is how much exercise I get here. It's precisely 10 a.m. and I've already taken a 3.5 mile hike,half of it going up, and a level 2 Sculpt and Strengthen class. I'm skipping a Nia class to rest and post, mainly rest.

I love this adventure. And the feeling of pushing my usual limits a bit.

This afternoon the group I lead is Wordplay.



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Bold Benares #11

A Hindu holy man, or sadhu, is usually identifiable by orange robes. Generally such people have left home to pursue an ascetic religious life, owning only what they carry. On the Ganges bank in Varanasi (setting of my novel Sister India), a holy man or two is sometimes available, for a few rupees, to look after your sandals and belongings while you bathe in the river. Some of these holy men are considerably holier than others but it doesn't appear to be an easy life for any.


Tomorrow I head to Tecate, Mexico to teach writing for a week (and do yoga)at the idyllic Rancho La Puerta spa. I'll be there over Thanksgiving and I'm indeed thankful: Conde Nast Traveler readers have voted it one of the best three spas in the world. I'll be popping in here to report.

And a welcome to this blog to Padma Pillai. I hope you'll visit often.

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Bold Benares #10

This rickshaw in Benares, or Varanasi, India, represents a variation on "Bloom Where You're Planted." The idea is: "Splash Color Wherever You Roll."

I like to go places where decoration shows up unexpectedly, where the ordinary objects and the unsung corners are turned into something wonderful.

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Bold Benares #9

This is the mosquito net on my bed in Benares, or Varanasi (where--did I mention?--I was doing research for my novel Sister India.) My first few nights there I didn't have one of these, and so many tiny moths were darting around my room in the dark that I pulled the sheet over my head to sleep.

Then the little creatures batted against my pulled-tight sheet in large enough numbers that they sounded like steady soft rain patting just overhead. I was very damn glad to get this spooky-looking rig. Once inside I felt safe from not only moths but wall lizards and any other trials in life.

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Bold Benares #8

What, you might ask, is bold about the Indian city of Benares or Varanasi--(other than being the setting for my novel Sister India)?

It sits by a holy river, the Ganges, which purifies the sins of sunrise bathers, draws millions of devout visitors, and floods regularly high up the city walls. It is the city of Shiva, Hindu god of both creation and destruction. Since it is the auspicious place for a Hindu to die, dead bodies carried on stretchers are a steady traffic. It is believed to be a microcosm of "sacred India"and the first created bit of land, the Hindu Eden. It's the world's oldest continually inhabited city. The gods themselves bathe in the water here. That's a lot to live up to.

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Bold Benares #7

Another of my favorites from Varanasi (or Benares) where I spent a winter doing research for my novel Sister India. I like it because of the angle of the light, the feeling of motion, and again the sisterhood image of the two women. And the red.

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Bold Benares #6

Some culvert pipes are left on the street for construction and quickly turn into a market, a little strip shopping center. I love the enterprise and ingenuity of this.

This is at the market area called Dashashvamedh in Varanasi. This central site turns up in my novel Sister India. It's the point of reference for most explorations of this city. The marigold garlands are for celebration of a Hindu holy day.

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Bold Benares #5

This man, Sakhai Prasad, was my model for the character of Ramesh in my novel Sister India. Like Ramesh, Sakhai was an innkeeper; he was the cook and manager of the two bedroom guest flat where I spent my three months in Varanasi (or Benares).

I think he's the only real-life model I ever used for a fictional character. I needed that kind of help, though, to write from an Indian's point-of-view. He and I were locked up in curfew in the flat for the two weeks that Varanasi was shut down by riots during my visit. He spoke little English and I spoke only a few words of Hindi. Still I felt we'd had full conversations.

You writers among us, do your characters come to you or do you base them on particular people or combinations of people?

(Welcome, BTW, to Judy and to Jewon An in South Korea. One of my stepsons is teaching English now at a university in South Korea, so I feel a special connection there.)

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Bold Benares #4

An original mattress factory. There's something satisfying about seeing daily objects made by humans, knowing that it can be done.

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Bold Benares #3

This photo, taken in one of the wider of the narrow alleys, called galis, of Varanasi, is part of the reason I called my novel Sister India. The other reason was that my good friend Usa who lived in the flat across the stair landing from me said that I was her Indian sister, which meant a lot to me.

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Bold Benares #2

This intersection is the site of a crucial moment in my novel Sister India. Jill is riding a rickshaw that is trapped in a traffic jam beside a political demonstration that seems on the verge of erupting into violence.

I did have that experience myself at this spot. I briefly considering walking across the bars and bench backs of rickshaws to get out of there. There was no space between the wheels to walk on the pavement. But the rickshaw traffic jam broke. Violence in Varanasi, also called Benares, didn't break out until a few days later.

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