A raw and stunning collection of essays on healing, surrender, and learning to laugh at cosmic jokes, this book is for anyone who is trying to find their way home. The author, in the wake of a traumatic and unexpected heartbreak, penned 35 short essays in an attempt to transmute her pain into art—to reclaim pieces of herself lost in the fire. If you have ever endured the dark night of the soul, felt lost, alone, or pranked by the Universe, this book will remind you of your cosmic roots and the magic in your bones.
This slim, but powerful book of essays is to be cherished. I will keep it on my nightstand for a long awhile, right next to Tolle, Yung Pueblo, Danielle Doby, Gilbert and Doyle. :)
“... part of me grew, while I waited. That’s the part that sets us free.”
“Among the many things I explored in the apartment on Frederick street, death was the most prominent. Not the death of life, necessarily, but the death of things that no longer serve, the death of things that keep us small, the death of that which suffocates the soul.”
“I learned to let dead things die.”
“I fumbled around for something to keep me from falling, and what I found was myself.”
The most fitting, most timely set of incantations. On heartbreak. On finding hope. On magic and self-excavation and reclamation. There is much to consider and reconsider within (the book, yourself). Adding to the work’s charms (#puns) are the generous HP references. ⚡️🤓 Leviosa is undoubtedly one of my favorite essays, with Tequila and Whatever as fellow standouts.
Lastly, I leave you with a sampling of the literary spells that can be found within:
“Hope will keep you soft, when life gets hard. Hope will keep you grounded, when the walls around you crumble. Hope must stay sewn into the edges of your heart, for rainy days, for rescue.”
“When you travel through the dark night of the soul you are not being punished—you’re being initiated. Each threshold of this journey is a portal. Every skin you shed, an offering. Each curse, a blessing.”
“I’ve got to tinker with time, find pockets where sunsets and sunrises and star gazing can be penciled in, here and there, as needed, as the schedule allows.”
Alright this book wasn’t horrible- but it was pretty redundant. I felt like each chapter said the same thing, but in different ways. To be completely fair though, I read this book front to back consecutively in less than two hours. I could see how reading an essay a night would be more beneficial for the entirety of the books purpose. I love short essays, and I feel like Fonooni has a decent grasp on how to do it well. I just wish there was a wee more story telling or more metaphors that weren’t as redundant. I will admit though the greatest take away from this book was that we all share pain, whether it’s the same or opposite- it’s all just pain.
I liked it, the book was real without being corny (for the most part). One line really resonated with me that i might get tattooed on me: we are not meant to worship at the altar of our pain. It really resonated and if you are someone who disdains self pity yet still has a romantic heart, this book is for you.
I think the point of poetry-adjacent books is to make you feel something, and this did that. I resonated with all of the stories of love, grief, gratitude and more, and I'm glad I read this cover to cover.
I’ve loved Neghar’s content online for years. Her book is beautiful. If you’re going through a difficult time, or you have before, it especially will speak to you.
I love how raw these personal essays were and how easy they are to relate to in one way or another. Although I think anyone could read this book and get something out of it, I think it does help to already be familiar with/a fan of the author through her other creative outlets.