7 & 8. Two books by Thich Nhat Hanh

[helens78]

As I was looking around at websites for authors of color, I happened across the recommendation for The Miracle of Mindfulness (on Pearl Cleage's website). As it happens, I'm sort of in the market for meditation-type books right at the moment; I struggle with GAD, and lately the closest thing to feeling better I've found was a beginner's yoga session at my gym. (And then I got food poisoning and couldn't go to the next two sessions. I can't wait for Monday.)

I find Eastern philosophy a lot easier to read and work with than Western religious philosophy. (My therapist recommended a few books by Western authors about spirituality, and I just couldn't read them. I'm an atheist, and reading Christian-type spirituality or anything that asks me to surrender myself to God really makes me uncomfortable, not relaxing at all!) The simplicity and practicality of it really works for me, and Nhat Hanh's books are very clear and practical.

The Miracle of Mindfulness is a pretty basic introduction to meditation and mindfulness, with various suggestions for changing the way one looks at the world and a number of breathing exercises. The Long Road Turns To Joy is a much shorter book on "walking meditation", which is exactly what it sounds like -- walking and meditating at the same time. (The book is even sized so that you can put it in a pocket and take it with you while you walk!) Both of them offer a lot of wonderful exercises that could be very helpful in the long run, although my first attempt at meditating lasted a whopping six minutes before I had to get up and do something else. Still, it's not like there's a prize for doing it right or like anyone's going to judge me for doing it wrong (except myself, and hopefully I'll stop that eventually).

Both come recommended if you're interested in learning more about mindfulness/meditation. :)

11. My Father's Daughter, by Hannah Pool

[rydra_wong]

I first heard about this book when I read Hannah Pool's pithy and hard-hitting Guardian column on Madonna's adoption of a boy from Malawi.

At the age of six months, Pool was adopted from an Eritrean orphanage by two white academics working in Khartoum; they were told that she was an orphan, with no family. Decades later, it emerged that this was a lie (likely told, as Pool says, to increase the chances that she would be adopted).

The book chronicles her return to Eritrea as an adult to meet her birth family, including her father, three brothers and a sister (and an extended family of step-siblings and cousins).

Pool is chatty and funny and self-deprecating, portraying herself as a London fashionista (she writes "The New Black" hair and beauty column for the Guardian) who is prone to Bridget Jones-like spasms of anxiety about the appropriate outfit for meeting a long-long cousin and proud that she knows the best kind of eye gel for covering up crying fits (and who is not at all happy with Eritrean expectations that women should wear suitably "demure" garments and not drink in public).

But the book doesn't pull any punches; it's a powerful and sometimes uncomfortable read. Pool doesn't attempt to smooth over the complexities and contradictions in her experiences, encapsulated in the fact that throughout, she refers to both her dad ("I hate it when people call my dad my 'adoptive' dad") and her (Eritrean) father.

She describes her deep attachment to her British family (noting that, ironically, it was her dad who tried to keep her in touch with her Eritrean heritage, while for years she refused to be interested; it was through his Eritrean colleagues and friends that she first met one of her birth family) -- and her need to make contact with her Eritrean family.

She's deeply aware of her privileged status as someone who's a successful journalist in a developed country, and of the sometimes-painful realities of her relatives' lives (one sister was married at age 14 and depends on food aid to survive; another sister died on the front in the war with Ethiopia) -- and she's also unambiguous about the fact that she feels the adoption uprooted her, and that she regrets that she had to be placed for adoption.

She describes her fear that she's not "authentically" Eritrean -- and her experiences of British racism, and the emotional impact of going to a country where she's not in the minority:

"Everyone looks so comfortable, so relaxed, walking around as if they own the place. So this is what black people look like when they are not having to constantly look over their shoulder, or justify their presence. Where they are not always waiting for the next bit of aggro, expecting to be singled out, ignored or given too much attention depending on the situation."

I'm still digesting the book, and suspect that I will be thinking about it for a long while, but I found it a moving and thought-provoking read.