They're Not Just Books!

     I've loved books since I was gifted my first one by a family friend on my tenth birthday. Books had played little role in my life until then. They were absent from our postwar Belfast bungalow, my parents not being readers. There were books at  school, of course, but upon grasping that  "Little Women" was my own to peruse as often as I wished, I was hooked on reading for life.

     After sixty years of collecting, my home library now numbers in the thousands.  I lend, give away and  donate frequently, even as bookshops and thrift stores lure me in to gather more, often on the same day!  A prodigious reader, I burn through many volumes in a year, in genres ranging  from fiction to biography, geology to true crime, and everything  in between.

     Books were what got me through a troubled childhood. However chaotic  my home life, however lonely I found myself to be, I had my books to turn to. They offered consolation when needed, along with the promise of a gentler  future, a reminder that was sorely needed amidst each day's ongoing drama. 

     To me, cradling a book is akin to holding a loved one's hand. Found there is memory, trust and the shared history of years. If it is a book given to me by a friend or is one equally cherished by them, then for a moment that friend is right there with me. That is a source of great comfort to me.

     I've come to realize that books are not just a part of  a home...books are a home to me. They have unfailingly provided me with respite, contentment and stimulation in varying amounts. I don't consider any book to have let me down, however mediocre the story or meagre the content. With every page read, I learn more about the world, and about myself. What more could I want?

     I am contemplating a move, and am trying to winnow down my possessions. I care little for such things as dishes, clothes, and furniture, but deciding which of my old friends to keep is a bigger challenge.

      I know I will never part with any book written by  the Bronte Sisters, who have inspired me to write since I read the first sentence in "Jane Eyre".  I have not a fraction of their talent, courage or the tenacity needed to achieve what they did, but their shared spirit continues to awe and inspire me.

     And how can I let Jeffrey Archer go, he of immense story -telling skills and fascinating life? My major collection of archaeology, history  and forensic books are must-have references and I cannot contemplate giving away my theatre scripts or my volumes of Shakespeare.  Harry Potter stays, as does Jane Austen. The stack of Irish writers I've amassed also remains as does a shelf of beautifully bound and weathered English Literature classics that have been read and reread throughout  the years.  As for my numerous art book so carefully sought out over decades..could I seriously let them go?

You see the challenge I face. Books have provided one of the true constants in my life. I do own and eReader, have books on CD and book apps on my  iPad and iPhone, but the  hard-covers stacked beside my bed offer a comfort nothing electronic could ever give  me. 

     

                

           Books influence everything I do. Going into a strange house, the first thing I look for are the bookshelves...and the dogs.  If I find neither books, nor dogs, I begin to wonder why I'm there. And I both love, and hate, knowing that no matter how many books I read, I will never get to them all.

 
 
 That said, I mean to give it my best shot.

                


 Must run... literary places to visit, characters to meet, old friends to check in with, and many unread books to devour before I part with them.

  I'll be in my library, should anyone need me. 
  
 Just ignore the Do Not Disturb sign...lol!

The Stoning of Soraya M.

A serious word of caution:

            This is not  a "nice" post…I offer no pretty pictures or poetry for International Women's Day. What you will find is graphic depiction of violence in words and images to tell a story that is ugly beyond belief, but is a story that needs to be told until such things never happen again. If you choose to skip my page today, please know that I very much appreciate you stopping by. 

   


      Most of us are neither naïve nor ignorant of world affairs. We know that life is harsh and that we humans are frequently less than our best selves, yet we doggedly seek out goodness in life and cling to optimism even in the face of adversity. This can be easy to do for those of us sustained by the bounty of lush lands and bolstered by the love of family and friends. Other realities are far more horrific.

      My comfortable life was dealt a visceral blow recently in the guise of an ordinary TV movie, stumbled upon while I ate my gooey dessert and idly flicked through channels. I caught only the end of this film, but in that half hour, the savagery of the story stunned me and quickly turned dessert into bile.

     

         Based on true-life,” The Stoning of Soraya M” is the account of a tragedy that took place in 1986 as Khomeini was coming into power in Iran. Within a marriage arranged in her early teens, Soraya and the nine children she bore suffered repeated abuse under the heavy hands of husband and father, Ali. When Ali requested a divorce in order to wed a 14 yr old girl, Soraya protested, knowing her family would starve to death without the support of her husband.

            The devious and tyrannical Ali was undeterred…as adultery is a crime punishable by death under law he simply bribed a local man to testify to Soraya’s infidelity. In a cruel twist, her paid accuser was the husband of a recently deceased friend, for whom she’d helped daily to cook and look after his children, a fact that was conveniently twisted to help condemn her. With no means of defence, and no offer of aide, Soraya’s fate was sealed. To her husband’s demand that she be stoned to death to cleanse the village of her, the village officials with whom he was colluding responded enthusiastically.

            It is said that 1,000 women have been stoned to death in the last two decades. I have read accounts of these brutal punishments, described briefly in a paragraph or two posted in the local paper…I wonder now how I remained emotionally removed from them for so long. A few minutes into this film, I began to shake, and was unable to control that shaking all evening, so great was my distress. I am beyond horrified, and can find no words to convey the hole this story tore in my heart.

            How have we gotten to a place in life where burying a bound and defenceless women up to her chest in sand, then systematically pelting her with rocks and bricks till she dies is an acceptable thing to do, indeed an honorable thing to do in the name of God’s will? No God I know -or want to know- would advocate the inhumanity this story depicts.

            I watched the film in horror, as Soraya’s own father stepped to the front, exercising his right to take the traditional first shot. A respected village elder, he would thus claim revenge for the shame his adulterous daughter had brought down on his head. The first heavy stone he aimed at Soraya’s face missed its mark, but at his feet were left three of the four stones each man in the village was allowed. Angry with the miss, the father picked up a larger piece and threw again with more force. When that also went wide, he impatiently grabbed a third, not stopping until he’d cut through the skin of this daughter to whom he’d given life.

          As is the custom, Soraya’s husband was next to hoist a stone, hurling it unprompted with eager excitement. When it did not hit her, his smile slipped and he quickly shot again, this rock barely glancing off a shoulder. Now becoming enraged, he hurled a jagged rock with such force that it bounced wildly off his wife’s head, and snapped her backwards. Forehead split open and bleeding profusely, Soraya still managed to right herself and raise her head once more.

            When I thought the story could not get more abhorrent, I watched the husband pull his two oldest sons out of the crowd. Roughly, he placed rocks in their hands and pushed them to the front so they might fulfil their duty of glorifying God and the Iman by ridding their village of the wicked infidel who had borne them. They did as they were bid with swift and simultaneous throws. I have never been impacted by a movie to the extent I was upon watching these young men stone their innocent mother and be lauded for it by the frenzied mob of villagers. Rocks began showering Soraya, occasionally making contact, but when she still refused to die, the enraged men circled the bleeding woman and threw rocks with such force that her head split wide open.

              If you have the heart, and the stomach, to watch this film you will share my horror. I need not watch it again; it’s burned into my head for all time. The 1994 novel, on which this film is based, was written by journalist Freidoune Sahebjam. Its English title is, “The Stoning of Soraya M: A Story of Injustice in Iran”, translated from the original French edition of four years earlier, “La Femme Lapidée”. It is an horrific, compelling and infinitely disturbing read.

            Whether or not you choose to pursue the story please let me know what you think. Show me there are many who abhor the gender apartheid that marginalizes women, the religious fanaticism that condones violence and the mob mentality that dares masquerade as law; please remind me there are countless numbers of people for whom such barbarity will never be mistaken for justice.....

E is for Enjoyment

In the overall scheme of things, our human lives are brief...mere blips in a universe that has existed for more millennia than we can even conceive. 

By dint of this brevity, I believe we owe it to ourselves, and our world, to enjoy life to the fullest and give back to it the very best of us.

Of course, we know life is also hard. Pain and misfortune befall us all and enjoyment is sometimes far removed from the picture. I have had my share of those times this year...

 But think...even in the midst of tribulation, have you not appreciated a steady arm around you when you needed it most...a quick nod of empathy from someone who cares, and the sweetness of encouraging words from a friend?

Embrace fully that depth of sharing, should you be blessed to have it offered.

Enjoyment is not limited to the grand things we dream of and plan for. 

I have marvelled at a hot-air balloon ride
over the Serengeti...




gazed with wonder at the majestic temples of Egypt...



and watched breathlessly as waves crashed wildly against the Giant's Causeway on Ireland's northern coast.

Undeniable pleasures, yes, but enjoyment is abundant in the everyday. 

The sight of a squirrel lolling comfortably on my porch railing.....

my sweet cat whiling away the afternoon in a tree,

and the camera that's never far away from my hands.

Small pleasures abound. I have bubbles to blow, a garden to tend,

  

and the continuing support of a blogging community that offers me encouragement and inspiration.

On the bluest of days, I can still count my blessings and take comfort in knowing the bad times will pass.

Let's celebrate our lives as the treasures they truly are.

Let's make our time here special, remembering to reach out and share that enjoyment with those we love...:)


I'm linking this post to ABC Wednesdays, a fun même you should check out if you haven't yet done so...

http://abcwednesday-mrsnesbitt.blogspot.ca/

B is for Books

"There's more to life than books you know, but not much more.."

from the 1984 song "Handsome Devil" by 

The Smiths 

After my people and pets, books are my greatest treasures. I am fortunate enough to have amassed hundreds thousands of them, and have spent many hours lured in by their irresistible richness. A peek into my home library will attest to my obsession with the printed word! 

Book in hand, the whole world is laid at my feet in all its beauty and complexity. I can be anyone…go anywhere…experience lives entirely different from my own, and grow a little from the experience of trying on other peoples’ realities, however briefly. 

 Books took me through a troubled childhood by being my friends when I had no other and my refuge when the world asked more of me than a child should have to give. As an adult, they have been my joy and my inspiration…a continual celebration and exploration of life in all its diversity.

Additionally, I have found a wonderful serendipity at work in the world of words. Sometimes the right book manages to find us at exactly the time we are in need of it. Such was the case a few years ago when I happened upon Tara Frey’s, “Blogging for Bliss”. 

I’d been curious about blogs, but knew little about them. That all changed after reading this book. Its straightforward and concise information, coupled with yummy pictures and pages of inspiring bloggers and sites, was just the catalyst needed to lure me into the vibrant world of blogging. I have never looked back. 

 A Few Books In My Studio

 I am a fast and focused reader, so it's an ongoing challenge to ensure I always have great stacks of both fiction and non-fiction books awaiting my eager hands.

 (Okay, it's not that difficult since I do make weekly visits to Chapters and the local thrift stores!)

My mother complained that I always had my nose stuck in a book, as if there was something wrong with that! 

Now the only complaint I hear is from my beleaguered husband who doesn't understand my reluctance to ever give books away. 

I live in the thrall of bookish delights. Here are a few titles that have delighted me so far this summer, (with many more in waiting)...

1) Still Alice  by  Lisa Genova  (2009)

2) Small Wonder: Essays  by  Barbara Kingsolver  (2002)

3) To Cut a Long Story Short by  Jeffrey Archer  (2000)

4) Collected Stories  by  Carol Shields  (2004)

5) Floating In My Mother's Palm  by  Ursula Hegi  (1990)

6) Saturday  by  Ian McEwan (2005)

7) The Art of racing In The Rain  by  Garth Stein  (2008)

  8) Wildflower  by  Mark Seal  (2009)

9) The Weird Sisters  by  Eleanor Brown  (2011)

10) All Roads Lead to Austen  by  Amy Elizabeth Smith  (2012)

 Old or new...printed or electronic...I take comfort in knowing books will always be my friends...

To read other takes on the letter "B", do stop by ABC Wednesday and enjoy the variety...

http://abcwednesday-mrsnesbitt.blogspot.ca/

Where Bloggers Create lV

 The first thing you might notice about my studio is that I have way too much stuff, a circumstance shared by many artists and crafters, I'm sure...  but my collections and supplies comfort and inspire me on a daily basis. 


With everything visible and within reach, my creative spirit bounds to life as soon as I walk into this overstuffed room.

Favourite artists' works are always close at hand. On my door is a poster titled, "One World, One Hope", designed by Joe Average for an AIDS Conference held in Vancouver some years ago. 


Its plea for united brotherhood never fails to move me.

While it's true that I have a lot crammed into this tiny space, it is organized and tidy...at least, most of the time!

Drawers, shelves and containers of all sorts are pressed into service in an effort to keep the chaos at bay. I particularly like clear jars that let me find what I need at a glance, be it scrabble letters, buttons or beads.

I continue to believe there's a little magic to be found in my storybook tins.

Unfortunately, time restraints

 have often kept me from 

pursuing my artistic efforts

 to the extent I might have wished, 

but as I have just hit the magical 

retirement age, I will finally be 

able to chase a few of the

 dreams I have kept on hold 

for years. 

What a glorious feeling of

 freedom and

possibility that is!

This picture was taken
as a scrapbook
project was ongoing.
I could have tidied it up, but desks are made to work on after all, not be show pieces.




The carpet has long since come
out and I've been waiting, (a while!), for my dear husband to finish putting in the hardwood floor.
Growing weary of 
drab plywood 
underfoot, I painted
on this cheery rug.
 I will miss when
it finally gets 
covered up, though I don't think I need worry about that just yet!

Inspiration boards spill over with 

opera programs, postcards 

and assorted bits that

have captured my 

imagination.

My Artful Dodger poster always 

makes me smile...Nick Bantock's

 artwork simply

amazes me.

This is my muse. Isn't she beautiful?

We rarely see figurines of this sort 

here in Canada...I was delighted to

find her while on a visit to the States.

Her grace and quiet beauty embody

all the qualities of a sincere

and giving heart that I work on

emulating every day. 

Always the dilletante, I am easily pulled from one project to the next.

While happily prepping journal pages, I'll spy my colourful stack of wool and decide it's time to knit another scarf. The fact that it may be summer does not discourage me from rooting through baskets of woolly balls to begin a new project.

I am hooked on all Stampington & 

Company publications. In neat and 

orderly rows, I store every issue 

of Somerset Studio, Artful Blogger 

and Where Women Create. 

My goal is to be published in 

Somerset Studio. Of course, 

that  means I need

to control my procrastination

habit and actually submit

something!

It goes without saying that books are

 an important part of every room. 

I have always been a bibliophile, and 

own a sizeable collection of 

art and crafting books that I pore 

over lovingly.

If I could only control that 

evil doppleganger, 

Penny Procrastination,

I have all the tools I need

to produce great art!

Photography being my 

first love,

I'm fond of setting up

 vignettes

of vintage sewing goods 

and 

stationery supplies.

I love the little

medicine cabinet  

below and am always on the lookout for

antique jars to

fill it up.

A collection of tiny chairs line up on the window ledge, ever-ready should very small visitors come to call...I'm sure there are faeries at the bottom of my garden.

As convenient as computers unarguably are, doesn't everyone love the look of old typewriters?

By now you will have guessed

my secret...that I spend

more time talking about making 

art than actually doing so.

While photography and writing 

are my passions, and I do

pursue them avidly, I am aching 

to expand my creative 

boundaries. 

I am making progress. It certainly helps to have my own space with its bounty of supplies and endless inspiration. Wonderful things are bound to happen here!

   

I know how fortunate I am to have my own space and never take it for granted.

I am also doubly blessed....my studio adjoins our personal library which is stuffed to the brim with books. How lucky can one lady be?

For more inspirational studios, do stop by Karen Valentine's blog and check out her party. It promises to be spectacular...

http://www.mydesertcottage.com/