I just finished a rather interesting book. It's called "Nora, Nora" by: Anne Rivers Siddons. During the first half of the book, I thought it was boring and colorless. With the second half of the book, I was able to see why it was like that. It is a coming of age story for a girl in 1961. But this girl carries the painful belief that she killed her mother by being born. For as long as she can remember, she has always been basically alone. No one was there emotionally for her, though people were there physically. Hence she learned to just kind of plod through life without seeing any of the joys in the basic day to day things all around her. So the first part of the book is written in that same emotional manner. It is devoid of most emotions, except for the occasional glimpses of Peyton's pain and how it affects her current actions, such as showing old home movies to herself in her tiny room at night and no one knows she is doing it. She does it as a way of "finding" her mother, and seeing her "family" for what it used to be, before she destroyed it by being born and killing her mother. Very sad. Then her cousin Nora arrives and things start to change. Slowly at first, then with more speed. Until eventually the book is going at a much faster pace, and the reader can't put it down, so badly do they want to read the end. At first I figured it would have the typical happy ending. Nora marries the widowed father and becomes Peyton's step mother. (they're distant cousins) Peyton passes her first real test of maturity, the speech for her graduation of grammer school before entering high school. (she's the valedictorian). Even when the "old town boy made good" shows up, and Nora falls for him (or seems to anyway), I still thought the end would be the typical fairy tale happy ending. I was pleasantly surprised. In many ways the ending made the book. With the way it ended, and the things said at the end, the whole book takes on so many different meanings, and shows a depth that was not visible on the surface. I find my mind running a mile a minute now, thinking of those things, and those depths, and the raw truth within them. I think the book was supposed to make the reader think, feel, and reflect upon themselves, their lives, and their own coming of age, of that awkward time when we are not children anymore, but are not yet young adults either. When we feel major changes are coming, and we both fear them, want to hide from them, and welcome them, crave them in the hopes that they will bring about bigger and better things. Only to find that when those changes come, they are not as obvious as we had thought they'd be. Instead they are usually quiet, deeply fundamental changes made within the heart and mind of a person, not the exterior or conscious mind. The time in our lives when we begin to see beyond ourselves and our little slice of the world, where we first glimpse the big picture, and the vast possibilities spread out before us. Where we become almost drunk on the sensations this glimpse causes. Where we begin to believe that we will become adults, and thus have an impact upon the world, even if it is only in a tiny way. That impact is caused by our interactions with other people. How we treat them, and whether or not we can truly love one another.

At the end of the book, when Nora is gone, Peyton is laying in her bed being cuddled by her father while she cries for a real long time. Finally the sobbing stops and they talk to one another. At one point the father says "Nobody's safe Peyton, and nobody's free. There's only somewhere between safe and free, and what people are. The only thing we can ever be is just human, and that ends up breaking our hearts. We all try so hard to be strong, or free, or safe, or whatever it is we think we need the most...and in the end, al we can ever be is just us. And it's enough because it has to be. There's not anything else." (p. 262, hardback) Those words touched me, and ring true within me. People are just people. People are always searching for something outside of what they are right now. Something that they consider to be important, and they believe that when they finally get what they are seeking, they will be fulfilled and everything will be wonderful. In this search, we often overlook what we have now, and just how good it actually is. When we do that, we can't find what we seek. What most people seek to find, already exists within them, if they dare to look for it there. I keep thinking that in some ways people are too focused on things outside of themselves as being their satisfaction, when it is what is within them, and what people can give to one another, that will bring not only deep satisfaction, but lasting contentment. Satisfaction is a momentary thing, it can be easily removed by doubt or fear, but contentment lasts longer and though it may be overshadowed by the current stressful situation or crises, or current situation that needs our full attention, it can't be erased. When someone is content with the fundamental structure of who they are, though they may still seek to improve themselves and embrace growth and change within themselves, that contentment is always there and lends the search for improvement a stability that is lacking for those who seek simple satisfaction.

Another passage, said just two lines after the one I quoted above is: " Well, this is what we do. We try to give what little we have to somebody who hasn't got it, and maybe they try to give us back some of what they have, that we haven't got. That's what love is. That's all it is." In many ways I think these are also very true words. Love is a give and take, where each person gives to the other something they need to be complete. Within BDSM, this is exactly how the symbiotic relationship of domination and submission works. The sub and the dom each give to the other, sometimes without even realizing it, the opposite that is needed to complete and balance the whole. With this give and take, comes the love. Maybe people really were put on this earth to love one another to the best of their abilities. No one really knows why we are here. So I guess everyone has to come up with his or her own answer, even if the answer changes over time. And I think the answer does change over time, and with situation. With maturity comes a calmer view of life, one that tends to include such things as this give and take of love as being a major part of the meaning to our lives. With certain experiences comes the ability to see this give and take, and even the symbiosis that can often exist without our conscious thought. There are times when people will automatically give of themselves something that another person needs at that time in their lives. When with someone we care about a lot, and the person is sad or depressed, we may instinctively know they need a hug, or someone to listen to them, or a shoulder to cry on. And we give that to them. In that way, we are providing something they need, but are lacking, with something we have and can thus provide; in that way we show love and caring. We show humanity. It isn’t the major things that matter, it’s these small things we give one another that matter the most. It is these small differences, that when brought together complete a whole, that bind us tightly to one another. It’s these little things that we overlook as we rush about desperately seeking “ourselves”, never realizing that what we seek is already within us just waiting to be brought out. Sometimes this giving from one person to another, takes the form of bringing forth the hidden treasures within another person; so that they can find what they were searching for but had no idea where to look. For example when someone gives another person the means by which to find self-esteem, a sense of worth, or dignity. By teaching an uneducated person the things they need to hold a job that will support them. We aren’t giving them handouts; instead we are giving them the means by which they can help themselves, and thus teaching them skills for living. Something we have, and they are lacking. In the giving, we create a whole. We also get something back; the love.

Very in depth book, or maybe I’m over thinking it, but somehow I don’t think so. Nora was a free spirit, written as the type of person who flits from one thing to another, never settling down and staying in one place. Flitting into people’s lives, drawing them out of the shells they hide in, showing them the pleasures and joys found in their every day lives, then leaving quickly. She is made to seem flighty and uncaring; a user. But in the last few paragraphs, you learn she is not a user, nor is she flighty and uncaring. She is fear driven. She craves stability, and an anchor; a place to call home where she can feel safe and loved, no matter what. Yet, when those things are offered to her, she doesn’t know what to do with them, so she runs away. Peyton’s father speaks of her as a butterfly in flight. She flew into their lives, opening their eyes to the joys around them both between father and daughter, and in life itself. Peyton had said she hated Nora, to which her father replied: “Well, you’d just as soon hate a butterfly. We didn’t give one single thought to what she might need. We just climbed up on her wings. We loved it there; it was a wonderful ride. And she tried to hold us up, but we were too heavy. Finally she had to drop us and go. All the time she wanted an anchor, a place to light, and we were too busy riding her wings to see that.” With these words you see that the selfish ones here, the ones who took but did not give in return, least not in the sense of giving what they had that Nora did not, were Peyton and her father. Though considering their great pain and separation from one another, this is understandable. This seems to be the way many people are; take what they need from whoever is offering it, without considering that what they are giving in return might be something the person does not need nor truly desire, or that what they are giving in return is not what they believe it to be. I don’t think it’s from any inherent selfishness, as I think it’s from the way life has become. Life has sped up dramatically from the way it was 75 years ago. Everything is more power, move faster, and get it done quicker. We do not take the time, often enough, to seriously consider what we are doing with one another and how we are affecting the people around us. People have gotten away from truly interacting with one another, and moved in to interacting with others for what they can give you, not what the interaction can give both of you. There is an awful lot of taking going on, but not a lot of giving.

The other thing that struck a deep chord in me was when the author was explaining a discovery Peyton had about herself. When she gets named valedictorian and asked to give a speech at the graduation, Nora gives Peyton a lot of support and encouragement. From that Peyton starts writing. While she does so, she finds she can view the world in two ways. One way is with the eyes she was born with, and the other is with a pair of internal eyes. Those internal eyes view the world and everything in it with more emotion, impact, and in the terms of this has to be written about. Through writing this speech, Peyton discovers that she has the gift of not only words, but also the sight necessary to give her words life, make them reach the emotions of the people reading them. Make them literally come to life upon the paper, and be more real. This was something I understood because I have often viewed things in more than one way, same as Peyton. I never really thought of it as a “gift”, but I can see how it very well might be. For me, it’s called “being bitten by the writing bug”. It is at those times when my vision broadens, and even the mundane things I see frequently, are imbued with a new life. A whole new level of meaning, intention, purpose, and feeling becomes visible in those simple every day occurrences, acts, and objects. Reading a story to my son is no longer just a chore to get through, or a pleasant interlude that passes before it can truly be enjoyed; instead it becomes a ritual of bonding, a means of passing on to my son a love of words and reading, a love of exploration of the world through books, a way of teaching my son not only the rudiments of our language, but of interactions between a parent and a child, of the give and take of love, the bonding necessary between two people, and to partake in his innocence and wonder at everything he sees. At those times, a walk around the block is no longer just a means of exercising to shut the doctors up, but a discovery of just how beautiful the earth is. How amazing the sunlight looks when it is reflected on the leaves of a tree, or the scent of the air around me, or the feel of wind on my skin. At those times, that walk becomes almost a religious experience, where all emotion is calmed and any anxieties are soothed, so I can just “be”, and enjoy “being”. It was very interesting to see that “writing bug” as I call it, explained in a book I was reading. I’ve read books where the characters are authors, but until now had not come across one where the urgency of writing, the need to get everything down on paper, and that sudden ability to see the bigger picture and capture it quickly before it gets away, are explained or even discussed. Stephen King’s book “Misery” brings up the “gotta” but it’s more of a “got to find out what happens next” kind of thing than a driving force demanding that what is being seen and experienced be written down for the writer to remember, learn from, and teach others with. That ability is indeed a rare one. And because of it’s rarity, I think it may very well be a gift. But I wonder now can this second set of eyes be something the person can use at will, and thus see the bigger picture when they want to, and not just whenever it occurs? Can it be used in such a way that the bearer of it can see more clearly, in order to write specifically for others to read? That’s an interesting thought. I suppose it could be because it is part of the person, and not an external thing taught by a teacher. People can harness their abilities and gifts so they can use them more completely within their every day lives, and to achieve the goals they set for themselves. If this ability is indeed a gift, and is indeed internal, then logically speaking it should be able to be harnessed and the bearer taught to use it like they do any other ability they may possess, like maybe the ability to dance very well, or the ability to understand math easily. The question now is, how? How to harness it, and learn to use it? I don’t have a clue, and I suppose if I did, I’d write a lot more often instead of waiting until the urgency becomes overwhelming to the point that I can’t sleep or eat until I write everything I need to and get it out of my system. That’s something I’ll just have to continue thinking about.