today's obsession

Really good, though it may not be for everyone.

I think I can understand why this book isn’t necessarily for everyone. It was suggested to me by a close friend who said I would immediately connect with the author (at least, the bit of the author that my friend had already read about – she wasn’t yet a third of the way through the book), and at the same time I was warned off it by another friend who said it would get too almost . . . “new-agey” for me. And by new-agey I mean my own stereotypical ideas of how hippies generally act/feel about life.

And in their own ways, both friends were right. I both loved the book and sometimes felt that I needed to step back and take a grip on “reality” once again. So, yes, I can definitely see how this book is not necessarily for everyone.

But I would, and probably will in short order, read it again. As I do.

I guess I’ll tackle this review in three parts, since that’s the way the book was written.

Italy – Pleasure

As M. promised, I immediately connected with the Liz in Italy. In fact, I connected so much, that I had to actually stop reading this book for a while (read: a month) before picking it up again [when I was in a frame of mind where I would not burst into uncontrollable tears after every page]. In her section on Italy, Liz takes you through what may be the most powerful part of the book, for me, and it lasts maybe three pages. It’s the disintegration of her marriage. For those who have been following me this passed semester, you may get why this section is particularly meaningful to me. For those of you who haven’t been, let’s just say that, over the past few months it’s been like someone – or something – has taken my entire life plan and been like, “well, you were just kidding right? This can’t really be what you want, is it? No . . .” And, for a while, I was a veritable a mess because of it. So my favorite passage in all of the Italy section occurs on page 12, where Liz finds herself, once again, on the bathroom floor of her perfect house, in the middle of yet another night in her perfect life with her perfect husband and perfect career, and she says,

“The many reasons I didn’t want to be this man’s wife anymore are too personal and too sad to share here . . . I also will not discuss here all the reasons why I did still want to be his wife, or all his wonderfulness, or why I loved him and why I had married him and why I was unable to imagine life without him. I won’t open any of that. Let it be sufficient to say that, on this night, he was still my lighthouse and my albatross in equal measure. The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving. I didn’t want to destroy anything or anybody. I just wanted to slip quietly out the back door, without causing any fuss or consequences, and then not stop running until I reached Greenland.”

There are, of course, wonderful passages from her actually being in Italy. Passages where she has eaten all the pasta, pizza (oh, I can’t tell you how much I want to try that perfect pizza from Naples), and gelato she can stomach. Italy, after all, is where Liz indulges in pleasure, and so eats her way through Rome in a fashion I can only envy and plan on doing myself one day. But for many reasons, that one passage from pg. 12, which began her entire journey across three continents, still stays with me after I’ve finished the entire book.

There’s so much more I could say about Italy. About how it’s the type of travel I want to do. It’s the type of freedom I want to have. It’s the type of wide-eyed fascination slash scary self-realization I want to experience. But this is only part of Liz’s story, so moving on.

India – Divine

Now, I was prepared to not like the section on India. For some strange reason on other, India is one of the few countries I’ve never really had a strong desire to see (which says something huge, since I probably have a desire to see every other country on the face of the Earth). Added to that, Liz’s mission in India was to find God, so going in I knew there would be a lot of talk about the divine self and (*here, I almost wrote “blah, blah, blah” but that just sounds so absolutely disrespectful that I can’t do it*) everything that comes with it. There would be lots of meditation and yoga and talk of transcendence and God living in our inner hearts and minds, and all that which I (and I admit this is my own ignorance and/or bias) relegate to hippies and new-agers.

So I was completely surprised to find out that I got through this section faster than Italy.

While I don’t agree with everything Liz says and feels about God (nor does she agree, she admits, with the one Christian tenant that is almost central to my beliefs, so I think we could safely and happily agree to disagree and still enjoy the each other’s stories), you can’t help but fiercely believe that this has happened to her, and that this is truth, and that this is beautiful and meaningful and sacred. And not all of it conflicts, either. She talks about prayer the way I wish my pastor growing up would teach about prayer. She talks about loving yourself and learning to do so in a way I wish some of my counselors would have talked to me about it. She discusses faith the way I understand faith to be. And she talks about God the way I want to understand God for myself.

It’s enough to make you want to find a Guru, go to an Ashram, and learn to meditate in silence for a week. Which I am probably incapable of doing. Meditation, that is. I’ve tried, once, and failed miserably. I also tried yoga once or twice, though for the physical health aspects rather than the spiritual. It wasn’t a hot success either. So it was sort of comforting to read the difficulties that Liz went through during her meditation exercises at the Ashram. And I also liked the . . . well, inclusiveness of it all. How meditation and yoga make room for so many different faiths and paths and beliefs. Even if the end-goal isn’t necessarily what I subscribe to, I can appreciate the journey.

I also enjoyed Richard from Texas and his realness in the face of it all.

Indonesia – Balance

Not sure how I felt about the section on Indonesia as a whole. It felt less cohesive than the rest, like there was less of a mission or goal to accomplish, though I know that Liz was seeking a balance between what she had found in both Italy and India. I just felt like both other countries were so purposeful, and then in Indonesia, she just sort of . . . went about life. Though I guess that’s one of the ways to find balance, isn’t it? Simply, live your life in balance as much as possible. I think I just felt that there was less of a change made here than there were in Italy and India. Indonesia was the culmination of a long year of change though, so the change was gradual rather than the life-affirming BAM! I guess I was looking for.

In Indonesia we see the result of all these months of self-reflection and reassessment. Her journey wasn’t a reinvention, but sort of a reawakening instead. She learned to accept the things in herself she used to find as limitations. She found that relationship both with herself and with God that she’d been starved for, and without which it seemed like her life was . . . well, out of balance.

So it probably says more about me than it does about the book that I preferred the drama and roller-coaster-ish nature of Italy, as well as the discovery of India, to the balance and eventual happiness in Indonesia.

It would be interesting to find out if this is just me, or if more people feel this way. So if you happen to read the book, let me know!