Mira Prabhu's Blog, page 58
December 8, 2015
The Reason Why We Are Not Friends
Gautama Buddha came up with the Three Jewels – Buddha, Dharma and Sangha; Sangha pretty much means that it is critical that we keep the right company. What does that mean to me? That my friends support me on my highest path, and vice versa.
Please read Suzie’s interesting post on the reasons she decides to “unfriend”….and let us know what drives YOU to “unfriend”. (That said, whenever I am forced to do such a thing, I make it a point to send that person light especially during my daily formal spiritual practice – that way I don’t feel guilty for doing what I felt I had to do!!!)
December 6, 2015
The novel combines freedom with intimacy says JANE SMILEY Quotes for Writers (and people who like quotes)
“To me, that’s the essence of the novel: accessing the mind of another human being in a way that combines freedom with intimacy…” Jane Smiley (Thank you, Bridget Whelan).
Originally posted on BRIDGET WHELAN writer:
To me as a reader, this greatest thing about the novel…is that it gives access to the mind of the writer. Our Mutual Friend is a perfect example of this: You have access to the mind of this guy, Charles Dickens. Prolonged access, 880 pages of access. There is no intermediary between you and this guy’s mind. There are no actors, there’s no stage production. To read a book is an act of humanity. It’s an act of connection. And it’s also an act of freedom—at any point, I could say, I’m done with Our Mutual Friend, I’m moving on to Anthony Trollope. As long as you’re reading, you’re there voluntarily. To me, that’s the essence of the novel: accessing the mind of another human being in a way that combines freedom with intimacy…Jane Smiley
photo credit: Charles Dickens reading to his daughters via photopin(license)
December 3, 2015
The Magic of Being Alone
1992 for me was a time of great personal darkness—sparkly on the outside, rotten on the inside. Stuck in a difficult marriage, I asked a friend at work if I could unload my troubles on her.
Karen was an opera singer at the start of her career; like me, she supported herself by freelancing in Manhattan law firms and on Wall Street. I admired her creativity, courage and higher values. Often after work we’d walk across Manhattan to my apartment and chat while I cooked us dinner.
“Let’s go to Central Park tomorrow,” she suggested. “We can talk freely there.” So next day we strolled through that gorgeous park and I told her, tears streaming down my face, that the husband I once believed I’d love and respect to my dying day had turned into a materialistic stranger.
“Why are you so scared to leave him then?” she asked in her direct fashion. “Sounds like you have good reason.”
So I told her about the conservative family I’d fought in order to marry this guy, and about the in-laws who stood against all my higher values. Neither would support me in seeking my freedom, I said. How on earth would I ever make it alone in this expensive and chaotic city?
“I vibe with the bit about losing financial support,” Karen said, “but why are you so scared to be alone?”
“Because I heard too many ghost stories growing up,” I explained haltingly.”Because, ever since childhood, I’ve seen some pretty weird things. Truth is, Karen, I’m afraid to be alone at night.”
“Scared of spirits?” she interrupted. “And what are you, pray tell?”
Her answer took me aback. Already I’d begun diving into eastern philosophy for an answer to my angst. I knew the theory well—that in essence we living beings are immortal spirit encased in mortal flesh—but this truth had not percolated down into the fiber of my being. Now my friend had brought up a big question—why was I so scared of the spirit realm when I too was spirit?
Nothing changed on the outside after that talk in the park, but on the inside things began to simmer. And when I finally picked up the courage to quit my painful domestic situation, things got even worse when I lost every cent I’d earned to my angry spouse who had always controlled our finances.
It was a sharp woman lawyer who convinced me that I should cut and run no matter what. “You’re young, smart and talented,” she said. “You can make it on your own. Fight him and all I can promise you is a nervous breakdown.”
I took her advice; but every single day for the first few months of being alone, I fought the phantoms of fear. What helped was talking to my therapist on a weekly basis, meditating morning and night, dumping toxins on willing friends, hatha yoga and walks in the park.
As for the phobia I had about sleeping alone at night, another friend, also in the process of dissolving his marriage, gave me two of his cats. Sweetie and Liza flanked me in bed, and another friend installed night lights all the way from my bedroom to my bathroom—just in case I had to go in the night!
Time passed, and my internal sun began to shine again. Seven years later, I quit the relative safety of Manhattan for the mysterious Himalayas, and continued to make major errors of judgment. I also came close to death several times. The worst experience was when I was literally trapped in a guest room in Rishikesh, dying excruciatingly due to an untreated infection caused by a spider bite.
Looking back on those crazy times, one thing stands out: that the most intense maturing and surrender I did was during times when I was alone and had no trustworthy human to turn to—times when I honestly would have preferred to be dead.
Today I am utterly grateful that I did go through that darkness—for those who never dare leave a comfort zone also never have the chance to crumble and change on the interior. I’m not recommending my form of savage rebellion to others, but now that I’m doing what I’d always craved to do—which is to deepen my spiritual quest as I write novels designed to inspire others on the path less traveled—I see that it was those stormy times when I was alone that carried me from darkness to light.
The other day a friend dropped in for a visit. She told me about her new boyfriend and admitted she doubted he could be a life-long partner. “He can’t stand being alone for any length of time and that really bothers me,” she said. “Why?” I asked. “Because I’ve come to believe that it is in deep solitude that the soul shines. Unless he can be happy on his own, I don’t want to commit. I’ve been burned too many times.” I nodded in agreement: Better to walk the path alone than with a mate who cannot fully support you.
Today I love the dark. It is friendly, rich and warm. It smiles, whispers and caresses. I owe this ongoing transformation in consciousness to an ancient tool I received via the grace of Ramana Maharshi, the greatest sage of modern India: for Atma-Vichara removes the darkness of a mind gone berserk with worry, fear and false imaginings as it reveals the light of our Self.
Greetings from Arunachala!
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November 25, 2015
Bye Bye Darlings: The Editing Gauntlet by Alice Zorn
“I’m now at the last read-through before Five Roses goes to the design people. I’ve rewritten the manuscript three times since I thought it was finished in 2013. Cutting, puzzling, moving pages around. Lots of darlings sent marching to the recycling bin.”
I read Alice Zorn’s terrific post with great interest – since I am editing my own second novel Krishna’s Counsel. She is of course spot on when she sees the author cannot “see” the work clearly. I rely on beta-readers, not professional editors, for various reasons, and not just money. What I loved most about her post is her second last line — “At each stage of editing, the book becomes more of an entity that lives separate from me. Which is what it will have to be when it’s sent off into the world.” Yes, that is the stage every good author/writer must reach – to move from the deeply subjective to a brilliant objective recounting. Thanks, Alice Zorn, and good luck with Five Roses – bet it’s very good!
Originally posted on QWF Writes:
Alice Zorn’s new novel, Five Roses, is named after the FARINE FIVE ROSES sign that marks the southwest horizon of Montreal and Pointe St-Charles, where the novel is set. Photo: Alice Zorn
You’ve finished your novel manuscript and you even – finally! – get a publisher. It took ten years. You have Neanderthal muscles across your brow from frowning at the computer screen. But now you’re home-free. Bingo!
Then you get the first slew of comments from your editor. She’s the objective eye who sees what the book can be, but isn’t yet. Does it begin in the best possible place? Is there too much exposition? Does it have structural integrity? What about the ending? She tells you all the darlings you cherished while you were writing don’t belong unless they serve the book. The clever turns of phrase, the crisp dialogue, the research that shows off your erudition…
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This is What Meddling In Middle Eastern Politics Gets You!
Although I generally stay away from politics, knowing little and often wanting to know less, I found Jack Eason’s recent post most interesting. I think you might too.
Jack’s friend and fellow author Robert Bauval, who was born and brought up in Egypt, has summed up the situation perfectly in a recent post on Facebook:
“I have often heard people comment that Islam means “peace”, assuming, wrongly, that it is a derivative of the word “salam” which does indeed mean “peace”. But actually Islam means “submission” i.e. to submit to Allah. The expansion of Islam from Arabia where it began in the 7th century, has been mainly through warfare and occupation of other countries mostly under Christian, Hindu and Buddhist religions.” Now please do read on…
Originally posted on Have We Had Help?:
I’m betting that the majority of the four hundred and eighty three people who follow this blog won’t even bother to read this, let alone comment. Some may even stop following it considering this post’s content, especially woolly headed bleeding heart liberals, who prefer to bury their heads in the sand. So be it!
Ever since the West redrew the boundaries in the Middle East at the end of World War One to create a homeland for the Jewish nation inPalestine, we have continued to meddle in that part of the world.
While in recent years we in the West abhor what both Muammar Gadaffi and Saddam Hussein did in their respective countries, and the Middle East at large, there is no getting way from the fact that together with the one remaining strongman, Syria’s Bashar al-Assad, at least they kept a lid on what has now become…
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November 24, 2015
Is this the worst sentence of the year?
The worst sentence of the year! And how’s this for a bloodthirsty pun?: “Old Man Dracula forgot to put his teeth in one night, and so had to come home hungry, with a sort of “nothing dentured, nothing veined” look on his face.” Read Bridget Whelan’s post for more.
Originally posted on BRIDGET WHELAN writer:
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
Every year the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest at San Jose State University honours the author of an obscure 1830 novel, Paul Clifford, which opens with this famous opening sentence. Thousands of writers from around the world compete against each other to come up with something that comes close to the awfulness of the original.This year Joel Phillips from New Jersey won with this entry:
Seeing how the victim’s body, or what remained of it, was wedged between the grill of the Peterbilt 389 and the bumper of the 2008 Cadillac Escalade EXT, officer…
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November 22, 2015
Monday Funnies with MAXINE
Maxine!!!! Just what we need to cheer ourselves up…..its been raining here and the sun is yet to make an appearance. But we can sill have a good belly laugh, right? Thanks so much, Chris Graham!
Originally posted on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog:
November 21, 2015
Facing Self-Doubt as an Author
“I don’t believe anyone ever suspects how completely unsure I am of my work and myself and what tortures of self-doubting the doubt of others has always given me.” Tennessee Williams (one of the most celebrated authors of the twentieth century.)
Personally, I never doubt myself as a writer. Why? 1) because I write mainly to express myself, and don’t think I could find people interested enough to keep listening to me ad nauseam. 2) I also write because I am in love with ancient India and its wisdom; today India is labeled “third world” when indeed once we were the acknowledged fount of great wisdom and a multitude of riches. 3) I write stories because my mind is full of them…and they come out effortlessly…if I did not use my energy in this way, that same energy turns destructive. In the end I write for myself – so, while I love genuine praise, I wouldn’t stop writing just because I didn’t get it. Thank you Veronica Bale!
Originally posted on Veronica Bale's Blog:
“I don’t believe anyone ever suspects how completely unsure I am of my work and myself and what tortures of self-doubting the doubt of others has always given me.”
It may surprise you to learn that this quote is from none other than Thomas “Tennessee” Lanier Williams the 3rd, one of the most celebrated playwrites and authors of the twentieth century. Self doubt is the author’s constant companion, and if that example isn’t proof enough that even the greatest literary minds of our times are afflicted by its cold, clammy grip, then I don’t know what is.
If you haven’t guessed it yet, then yes — I’ve been mired in self-doubt lately. Or, I should say, moreso than usual. The question that keeps popping up in my head is, “Am I really an author? I mean, really? Or am I just a wannabe? An imposter? A…
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November 19, 2015
why writers make incredible friends!
Writers do make wonderful friends…I can attest to that…for me the draw is that they are always curious and interested in stuff that usually bores other people…everything becomes alive and exciting when you are around them (patting myself on the back here, ha ha)….Thank you Kawanee Hamilton and Chris Graham!
Originally posted on Kawanee's Korner:
November 17, 2015
5 Novels that Inspire Me as a Writer
Writers love reading…that’s a fact. Here’s Veronica Bale’s excellent post on the novels that inspired her. Funny that her first pick is Styron’s ‘Sophie’s Choice’ – because, long ago I was blown away by it too. Looking back I believe it was the book that made me want to write seriously. Read on….
Originally posted on Veronica Bale's Blog:
No matter what our genre, we authors – traditionally published, self-published and aspiring – can agree to one absolute truth: All writers are readers first and foremost! We scribblers are influenced heavily by what we read. Some books make a positive impression, some a negative one. Then there are some that have made such a lasting impression on us that aspects or features of them make their way into our own writing.
It’s a given that, as a romance writer, I read a lot of women’s romantic fiction. I simply love a good falling-in-love story. But romance isn’t the only thing I read. Like every reader, I enjoy lots of genres from true crime to mystery and suspense, from historical non-fiction to classic literature. Each book I read has influenced me in one way or another as a writer.
Inspired by this Bustle article, 12 Authors You’ll Love No Matter Your Genre, I’ve decided…
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