I love books like this, that help my soul find respites and revelations and comfort in this life. Having gone through a traumatic health emergency myself, I related to the inner work that you feel compelled to do in order to adjust back to living life "like a normal" person. But you're not the same person as you were before the trauma happened. You discover more about yourself and about how you fit into life, what used to work for you likely no longer does, in terms of unhealthy patterns and thoughts and feelings. You learn how precious you are and to put in place and embrace boundaries to keep you well. You live "you" authentically. Trauma and tragedy can bring you closer to love, if you choose to go deeper.
This is a very different way of life than you're used to. But it is the best way possible for you forward now. And it happens slowly, you learn gradually, you make mistakes again and again, but that is part of the learning process. You learn to listen to your body as the highest keeper of your good. You learn to honor what your body needs. No more disrespecting it. And you learn that death is always a possibility, but you accept it and live your life knowing it's ahead of you at some point. Every day is a gift, gratitude reigns supreme. Love is at the center, the heart center. And you thank your body each day for the miracle that it is.
"This book is a love story. It is primarily about the love between two sisters, but it is also about the kindness you must give to yourself if you are to truly love another. Love of self, love of other: two strands in the love braid. I have braided these strands together in all sorts of relationships, in varying degrees of grace and ineptitude. I've messed up in both directions: being self-centered, being a martyr; not knowing my own worth, not valuing the essential worth of the other. To love well is to get the balance right. It's the work of a lifetime. It's art. It's what this book is about." pg. 3
"There is no ten-ways-to-get-it-right list when it comes to love. No exact formulas for when to be vulnerable and when to be strong, when to wait and when to pursue, when to relent and when to be a relentless love warrior. Rather, love is a mess, love is a dance, love is a miracle. Love is also stronger than death, but I'm only learning that now." pg. 3
"Nietzsche described amor fati as the ability not to merely bear our fate but to love it. That's a tall order. To be human is to have the kind of fate that doles out all sorts of wondrous and horrible things. No one gets through life without big doses of confusion and angst, pain and loss. What's to love about that? And yet if you say yes to amor fati, if you practice loving the fullness of your fate, if you pick up the third strand of the love braid, you will thread ribbons of faith and gratitude and meaning through your life. Some will reject the idea of loving your fate as capitulation or naivete; I say it's the way to wisdom and the key to love." pg. 4
"She was an avid reader, but her taste did not include anything that smacked of self-help. She liked novels or nonfiction books about beekeeping and bread baking. Then my mother died and Maggie left her marriage, and there's nothing like trauma to change one's reading habits." pg. 39
"This is what happens when you put your soul in charge of your life. You dare to claim the sky. That sky is different for everyone. For one person, maybe the sky is having a baby, being a parent, growing a family. But for another it's never having kids; it's traveling the globe; it's saving the world. Your sky might be leaving a job, whereas another's might be fighting for it. Your claim to the sky could be an act of surrender--that moment when you finally learn how to love another. Or your claim to the sky might be when you finally learn how to love yourself; when you walk away from a relationship that demeans the soul, and you lay claim to your freedom. You know your sky. And if you don't, it's because you haven't listened closely enough. You are arguing with your soul instead of putting it in charge of your life." pg. 42
"Sitting on a long bench in the boat, alone except for the driver, who is sleeping in his captain's seat, I think about hidden things. Hidden life under the sea, under the ground, under the skin. The buried marrow in my bones and the secret stories in my heart. What are we supposed to see and hear, show and tell? Are things hidden for our own good, or is the human journey about going into the shadows and searching for the deeper truths about ourselves and each other, about life itself?" pg. 59
"I promised the women they would be less likely to need drugs or other interventions if they could visualize the uterus and understand the mechanics of the cervix--that little muscle that must stretch from a clenched fist to the size of their baby's head. If you fight the pain, if you resist the contractions, you cause even more pain. I told them that labor is like life and life is like labor: sometimes the most painful experiences deliver the best things--new life, unexpected insight, the chance to stretch and grow. This was the greatest lesson I learned in my years of delivering babies: don't strain against pain; learn its purpose; work with it and the energy of the universe will assist you." pg. 60
"For now, I ignore the parts of the information sheets that describe the painful side effects and potential risks of the procedure, and focus on the more miraculous aspects of marrow and cells and blood. I am becoming a devotee of blood. I feel like a vampire, but a nerdy one." pg. 72
"It was the Bard's ironic way of saying that, while the key to life is authenticity, most of us pay lip service to the idea, never really biting into the gold kernel of truth at the core of the self. Never really having the support, the know-how, the guts to mine the gold and live the gold and give the gold. That's the tragedy at the heart of Hamlet. And it's a tragedy in all of our lives until we summon the courage to dig deep, to say our truth, to be our truth." pg. 88
"'To thine own self be true,' we're told throughout our lives--when faced with decisions big and small, when wondering about whom to love or where to live or what to do with our talents and dreams. How do I grasp my purpose? How do I live a meaningful life? How can I make a difference in the lives of others?
'Just be yourself.'
You have heard this. You think it's true. Or at least you want it to be true--this idea of having and following an authentic self. . . All you know is that it's painful being separated from your one true self. And so you keep searching, sometimes effectively and sometimes like a fool, like a zealot, like a lost soul." pg. 89
"To them [the Greeks], your daimon--your spirit guide--lived within you. You were born with it; you came into this world with your daimon embedded in the body, like the grand oak already present in the acorn--a kind of spiritual DNA that already knows who it is, what it should do, how it should live. Greek philosophers spoke of the responsibility to put the daimon in charge of your life. If you didn't--if you tried to live someone else's life, if you covered your light, if you squandered your purpose--you would deny others the fullness of your gifts." pg. 94
"Those in touch with their authenticity share similar traits. They are gentle and strong in equal measure. They are not overly concerned about what others think of them, and yet they are greatly concerned about the well-being of others. They are so in touch with themselves that they are open toward everyone. They have tasted the sweetness and the bitterness of their life and declared it all good; they want you to taste your own life too. They don't want your allegiance; they want your liberation. They won't come after you; you must seek them out. And when your work with them is done, they will give you wings to fly away." pg. 96-97
"It showed me that no one is living the exact life you think they are, so if you compare your life to another person's, you're usually comparing it to a fantasy of your own making. Seeing the imperfect humanness of my teachers side by side with their genius has helped me stop expecting perfection of myself. My close encounters with the wise ones have helped me relax and lighten up. I've let go of the goal of perfection and taken up the goal of authenticity." pg. 101
"In all of these settings--East and West, North and South, sacred and secular, ancient and current--the best of the philosophers and witch doctors and shrinks have always been what shamanic cultures call 'wounded healers.' Wounded healers are comfortable with people in dark and troubled places because they too have been there and have found their way out. They may not have perfected the human experience, and they may be a little strange from frequent sojourns into the underworld, but they do have eyes that can see in the dark, and faith in the return of the light." pg. 124
"My mind knows that the bone marrow transplant may not work, that the cancer may come back, that Maggie may die sooner rather than later, but my heart and bones have other ideas. They are attached to the outcome with a fierceness I have only felt before as a mother." pg. 144-145
"And isn't this what all of us must do? Give ourselves to each other, even though we know one day we must part? Give ourselves to this life, even though we know it will end? This is the paradox at the heart of being human. Nothing stays the same; everything will change. And yet the love we long to feel, and the love we were born to give, can only be ours if we abandon ourselves to each moment, each breath, each other. If we wait for the perfect time, the perfect person, the perfected self, we'll stay frozen in an idea of love. But if we fearlessly engage with the life spread out before us, we will be rewarded with a heart that can hold it all--happiness and messiness, clarity and confusion, love and loss." pg. 145
"I think of how we go about our daily life, unaware of the dazzling feats occurring right beneath the skin. Will I remember this when the drama of the transplant is over? Will I remember to be awestruck by the human body, by the beautifully choreographed dance of the stem cells in the marrow of the bones? I inhale, and my lungs fill with air. The lungs filter out oxygen and send it to my heart. My heart pumps oxygenated blood to every part of my body. I exhale, and what my body cannot use is sent back into the atmosphere. Who thought this miracle up?" pg. 148
"An honorable human relationship--that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word 'love'--is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.
It is important to do this because it breaks down human self-delusion and isolation.
It is important to do this because in doing so we do justice to our own complexcity.
It is important to do this because we can count on so few people to go that hard way with us." pg. 153, excerpted from Adrienne Rich
"You can ask yourself, does this person have enough love of himself to know how to love me? Does he suffer from excessively low self-esteem or narcissistic self-regard (two sides of the same coin) to be able to really see me for who I am beyond the roles, the wounds, the past? Will this person be patient enough to hear me out, brave enough to confront me, and game enough to travel with me to the field beyond wrongdoing and rightdoing? Has she demonstrated that kind of self-awareness in other relationships and situations? If the answer is no, then be careful. He or she may be a naked person offering you a shirt. A person cannot give you what he doesn't have." pg. 156-157
"Another heart you must investigate is your very own; you must test your own trustworthiness. Sometimes we think we're more genuine in our motivation than we really are. Sometimes we're manipulating others as opposed to truly wanting to grow a new kind of relationship. . . Am I ready to do this? Do I really plan to take responsibility for my side of the story? Or am I pushing an agenda? Am I too hurt, too impatient, too needy, too reactive, too confused to listen well and speak the truth? If so, then it's better to say nothing, to wait, to do my own inner work before inviting this kind of exchange with someone else." pg. 157
"She said, 'Give from your strength, and give to your sister's strength. Don't be the big sister helping the little sister. Don't be the strong one helping the weak one. Don't be the fortunate one helping the victim. Give from your strength to her strength. Strength to strength.'" pg. 172
"He [Deepak Chopra] quotes Sir Arthur Eddington, the renowned British physicist, who said, 'Something unknown is doing we don't know what.' Handing over the reins to that unknown something is the best thing I can do, Deepak Chopra writes." pg. 186
"When we know and love ourselves, down to the marrow of our bones, and when we know our oneness with each other, down to the marrow of our souls, then love becomes less of an idea and more of the only sane way to proceed. We are one, we are many, and love is the bridge." pg. 200
"Here are mine [mindfulness instructions]: We are made from the past, and for the future. Both are embedded in the present moment. Without the pain and sweetness of what came before, and the enticing lure and heart-pounding fear of what comes next, we cannot celebrate the fullness of the living moment." pg. 211
"We are remothering each other. In my constant (and sometimes obsessive) care of her, I am rewriting how we were raised. I am giving her the kind of attention we rarely, if ever, received. The kind that says through constancy and presence, 'You are my precious, cherished, worthy girl. I will put you first. I will do this because you are my girl, because you belong to me, we belong to each other, and you belong here on earth with us. And as long as you are here, you deserve to be seen and tended to.' That's not the message--expressed or implied--that we received from our parents. They loved us, but they did so without much fanfare or tenderness. They felt it their duty to give us a moral compass, and then we were on our own to go forth as good citizens of the world. Demonstrations of love, acknowledgement of one's unique character, guidance and solace ater falls and traumas--these were for other people. These were Hallmark Card coping strategies for the weak and the silly." pg. 223
"'Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.' I was being pulled by the strength of unconditional love. I knew that pull; it was the force I felt when I first laid eyes on my babies. It was primal. It was the response a mother has to a child's cry. It was the response we each long for as children--to be seen by our parents for who we are; to be loved, just because of who we are; to be cared for not because we have done something right but because we are here, we matter, we belong." pg. 224
"Now would be the time to say I am sorry for trying every which way to feel loved and valued, respected and taken seriously, instead of the one way that works the best: telling my truth and asking for what I need." pg. 233
"How many wounded relationships in our wounded world could be healed if people would only risk being vulnerable and honest? And hurt and angry too, but angry in a way that leads to positive resolution. This is possible. It's difficult, it's risky, but it's possible. And the opposite has a terrible track record." pg. 244
"The opposite of violence is not a world without anger, not a world without conflict. In fact the fear of conflict often leads to violence. It leads to unexplored assumptions, dishonesty, and backstabbing. Nonviolence is the ability to be in honest, patient conflict with another person, to hold each other's flaws up to the light, to talk it all the way through and to discover that, although none of us is perfect, still we can be each other's perfect match. This is the 'human love' that Anais Nin speaks of. This is what happens when we stop taking things personally, when we stop making assumptions, and when we are impeccable with our word." pg. 244
"Surrender. Feel the grace of what was, what is, and what will be." pg. 249
"They don't need you to perform for them so they know how good you are. They need you to love them so they know how good they are." pg. 270
"His eyes search my face, as if he's saying, 'Please see me. Please see who I was before I got sick, before my brain went haywire, before I ended up here. I'm still that person; I just don't have the right words and thoughts to dress him up, to make him presentable. But please see him; please respect him; please love him.'" pg. 272
"But I'll remember what I learned (for the umpteenth time) at the Brain Trauma Center: that we are souls who have met for a purpose on this mysterious journey; that each of us is here for the other, and all that is required is to strip down to the marrow and to be present. To look into each other's eyes and to search beyond the identity of victim and helper, sick one and well one, weak one and strong one--to look deeper and to find the dignified soul of each being, and to stand in solidarity as a fellow human who is striving to be free." pg. 273
"She has just wanted my presence--my strength to her strength--and the sense that our being together is a gift for both of us." pg. 273
"We hovered like mother hens--her daughters who had never been clucked over. We touched her, talked to her, and loved her with a passion we had never before been allowed to express." pg. 279
"Deep within the heart of the earth and the marrow of the bones is a compass that quivers to the power of love. I doubt the scientific community is going to back me up on this, but that grand unifying force that Einstein went to his grave still searching for? I believe it is love in its many forms: kindness, passion, connection, empathy, generosity, forgiveness, and the guts to tell the truth. Love is a force--an adhesive force." pg. 306
Book: borrowed from SSF Main Library.