I found a wonderful literary magazine titled West Marin Review that is based in Pt. Reyes Station in California. The quality is excellent, but what I was most attracted to was the cross-section of writers and artists who appeared in the journal. All walks of life were represented, from children to the aged. This publication is created using 99% volunteer effort.
A personal story, What Would Buddha Do? by resident Elizabeth Whitney, immediately captured my attention.
There are things I read because I need the information, and things I read and think, This is good writing. I'm enjoying it. But the best writing is the kind synchs with something already inside. When this happens, I can forget the act of reading and enter the flow of the story. It's a rare union when the writer and reader can connect on this level.
The nonfiction piece What Would Buddha Do? had that effect on me. Whitney is a concise, clear writer, as she should be as a self-proclaimed "lifelong journalist".
The story is about a house-sitter who seems sane and competent when hired. The two women share an interest in many of the same philosophies and books and seem compatible. All is well when Whitney leaves. She returns to find a delusional house-sitter who believes she is going to continue to live in the house. As the woman descends into "full-on psychological disintegration" Whitney writes, "The right question is: What would a psychiatric nurse do?"
I've had similar encounters and always find it difficult to set up boundaries. It can take some time to find out just who you're really dealing with when it comes to mental illness. I err on the side of compassion then, as the turnips start tumbling off the truck, come to regret my decisions. It took me a long time to realize that a big dose of rational thinking is a ridiculous plan for reaching out to someone whose brain is just not set up to work that way. Professional help is almost always beyond the reach of people who are "sliding down society's flagpole". In short, we've created a mess, devastating to those who can't even take care of themselves on even a basic level.
My complaint with the piece (doesn't every writer know this moment is coming?") is that the story doesn't have much of a conclusion. Whitney surprised me by offering the house-sitter a "reprieve" with "rules and an end date". The last two paragraphs are mostly broad generalizations. What interested me was the personal interaction and the conundrum of not arriving at a resolution to the situation. Sometimes there is no happy ending.
We read fiction and nonfiction alike to learn more about life, and how to approach the challenges both positive and negative. Sometimes all we learn is that the world can be a grey, screwed-up place.
A personal story, What Would Buddha Do? by resident Elizabeth Whitney, immediately captured my attention.
There are things I read because I need the information, and things I read and think, This is good writing. I'm enjoying it. But the best writing is the kind synchs with something already inside. When this happens, I can forget the act of reading and enter the flow of the story. It's a rare union when the writer and reader can connect on this level.
The nonfiction piece What Would Buddha Do? had that effect on me. Whitney is a concise, clear writer, as she should be as a self-proclaimed "lifelong journalist".
The story is about a house-sitter who seems sane and competent when hired. The two women share an interest in many of the same philosophies and books and seem compatible. All is well when Whitney leaves. She returns to find a delusional house-sitter who believes she is going to continue to live in the house. As the woman descends into "full-on psychological disintegration" Whitney writes, "The right question is: What would a psychiatric nurse do?"
I've had similar encounters and always find it difficult to set up boundaries. It can take some time to find out just who you're really dealing with when it comes to mental illness. I err on the side of compassion then, as the turnips start tumbling off the truck, come to regret my decisions. It took me a long time to realize that a big dose of rational thinking is a ridiculous plan for reaching out to someone whose brain is just not set up to work that way. Professional help is almost always beyond the reach of people who are "sliding down society's flagpole". In short, we've created a mess, devastating to those who can't even take care of themselves on even a basic level.
My complaint with the piece (doesn't every writer know this moment is coming?") is that the story doesn't have much of a conclusion. Whitney surprised me by offering the house-sitter a "reprieve" with "rules and an end date". The last two paragraphs are mostly broad generalizations. What interested me was the personal interaction and the conundrum of not arriving at a resolution to the situation. Sometimes there is no happy ending.
We read fiction and nonfiction alike to learn more about life, and how to approach the challenges both positive and negative. Sometimes all we learn is that the world can be a grey, screwed-up place.
No comments:
Post a Comment