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192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
Honestly, I don’t know how to a make a decent review for this book. As I have yet to hear from the author of her thoughts for writing this book (I love sending “fan mail” hahaha!), I would just like to say that I love The Earth House. I love new learnings, and analogies to life, and this book gave me a lot.
I bought this book from Amazon, and it was definitely worth the shipping cost! And Jeanne DuPrau is still one of my favorite authors.
I have too many favorite lines from the book, and I really, really want to share them, so here goes:
Here are some circumstances I would call unpleasant, in which I, in my current state of spiritual development, would be likely to feel unhappy: dangling from a peg stuck into the sheer side of a mountain over a thousand-foot drop; spending all day peering into hot car engines; writing books on political theory; walking a tightrope strung between skyscrapers. But people exist who do these things of their own free choice. They are happy doing these things, one assumes, or they would not do them. So misery is not built into these activities, only attached to them from the outside.
The point of saving all sentient beings is not to ensure the personal health and happiness of every bug, bird, fish, and animal on the planet. It is simple to foster the attitude that leads away from suffering. We can’t change the world so that no one gets sick, no one is hurt, no one dies. The best we can do is to take care of suffering where we find it. We save all being because in the process of doing so we expand the boundaries of our identity; we push out the fences that limit what we can love.
The problem unravels. I rise above it.
Why is nature like this? Why would any craftsman be so zealously attentive to every tiny detail?
This was one of those times when what appears to be a disaster turns you in an interesting direction that you would never otherwise have known about. The universe throws something at you that seems like a problem and then waits to see if you’re clever enough to find the blessing in it.
You can’t walk away from pain in the hope of escaping it; you have to turn around and walk toward it. You have to suffer, as the Guide says, to end suffering.
Pain became my familiar – not my friend, but someone whose face I knew. By writing I opened the door to it, I said, “Come in. Run through me.” I would write and cry, write and shake, and when I was finished I felt battered but somehow saved.