Remember last month when I gave Everett Bouge’s The Art of Being Minimalist a kind of lackluster review in this post on *8Things to Minimize?

I changed my mind. (You knew I’d come around, didn’t you Everett?)

It’s sticking with me, this little book, and the ideas presented in it are turning ’round and ’round in my mind. Since reading it Paul and I are seriously considering:

• living without a car when we return stateside.
• extending the lease on our six bedroom house in Seattle in order to experiment with  living in small, downtown condo. 
• selling 90% of our 1,000 volume library. (150 is our new golden number)
• getting rid of most of our DVD’s.

Anything that makes you re-think that much stuff is worth the $9.95. (Soon to go up to $19.95.) Plus, it’s an ebook – no physical clutter required. And it has a beautiful minimalist design, which I, the migrainuer, appreciates. (No visual clutter!)

Now look, I know a lot of you are doing too much.  So don’t buy this if it’s just going to be one more thing sitting on your desk waiting to be read. But if you have 90 minutes to read it this weekend, it might change your life.

Click here to buy The Art of Being Minimalist.

P.s. If you buy the book by clicking on a link in this post, you’ll be buying me a cuppa. For my full disclosure statement about how I love you and only tell you good things, click here.

When I got sick with debilitating chronic pain, everything had to change. My once busy calendar had to be cleared. The defacto commune had to move out of my house. I had to Do Less. A lot less.

Thankfully, due in no small part to the book The Power of Less: The Fine Art of Limiting Yourself to the Essential by Zen Habitswriter Leo Babatua, I learned that doing less made me more powerful. The once spread-thin me became a master of what I call “concentrated living” where doing less, means accomplishing more.

In the middle of learning this Do Less lifestyle, I moved out of a 6 bedroom house and into a 3 bedroom apartment. This meant drastically scaling back everything we owned. Two years later I’m happy to announce that I love my modernist apartment and my scaled-back stuff. So much so that I’ve already begun worrying about how we will be tempted to spill back into all 6 rooms (plus basement storage!) in our old house once we return to the States.

In an effort to study-up, glean ideas, and set some intentions for the move home, I recently read Everett Bogue’s new ebook The Art of Being Minimalist.  I’m not an affiliate for this book, because I’m not sure there’s enough “meat” in it for me to recommend the purchase. Plus, I have a hard time taking minimalist living advice from someone who is under 30 with no kids. But the book is beautifully laid out and can be read in about 90 minutes, which I like. Check it out and if you think it suites you, give it ago. After all, $9.95 is not a huge price and maybe it will inspire you to a whole new way of living.

In the Art of Being Minimalist Bogue points out that he only owns 100 things. If he doesn’t use something in 1 month, he gets rid of it. It made me think about all the things I haven’t used in a month’s time, or even in 6 months time. And it inspired me to clear out some of those things.

So, for today’s *8Things, I suggest we make a list of stuff of which we could have less. Here is my list of *8Things to Minimize. (Thanks Everett. That was totally worth $9.95.)

1. Books: We regularly give away books, but our shelves are still over full to over flowing. The fact is, there are few of these we will ever re-read. If I can strong-arm my husband into it, I’m going to try to get us down to one shelf of books. (We have bookshelf in every room. Even the kitchen.) We live 6 blocks from the library. We’ll be fine.

2. DVDs:When we moved to Denmark we loaded up on DVDs. I have to stay, in these long dark Winters they have been a lifesaver. But when we are back in the land of Hulu and Netflix, we won’t need them. I’m hoping to leave most of them behind.

3. Dishes: I’m kind of torn on this one. On the one hand, we like to entertain. It’s a huge part of our ethos. On the other hand, how many teacups does one really need when one is no longer hosting a group of 12-20 for dinner every week, or living with extra adults? And do I really need an additional plastic set for outdoor eating now that the children are older? Methinks not.

4. Twitter Follows:Immediately after reading “Minimalist” I cut my list down to 249. (From 1,300) Everyone has to be on a sub-list (personal, artists, or coaches.) Much more manageable, and hopefully more productive work-wise.

5. Songs:I love Zune because you can download all the music you want for about $15 a month. But do I really need the definitive collection of every musician I like? I’m thinning this out on the weekend.

6. Cookbooks. I have this neat organization system for my recipes and I really only use this, my GF baking cookbook, and online resources. As long as I leave Paul his Joy of Cooking, I can get rid of the rest.

7. RSS Feeds: Also right after reading the book I narrowed my list down to 7 feeds — just the people I want to read but can never find easily on Google. I used to worry all the time that I was “behind” on reading my feeds. Not any more.

8. Cleaning Products: I mean seriously, we all know I rarely clean. Why do I have stuff under every sink plus a bucketful of potions in the hall closet? As soon as I can figure out how to dispose of these “greenly” in CPH, they are out of here!

What is your list of *8Things to Minimize? Share in the comments below grab a button and play along. If you post on your list on your blog, please give us the permalink in the Mr. Linky below so we can come say hi!  Maybe you will inspire someone to live with less stress and more space today. Thanks for being here.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to introduce you all to the goodness that is the community over at Flock: a nesting place for restless souls. Joining an online community when it is just starting is a rare opportunity.  Getting in on the ground floor means you have time to get to know each other, and you don’t get lost in the crowd.

I long to show you more of the good things that are going on in the Flock, but I’m trying to balance privacy with my boundless compulsion to sing Flock’s good praises. (It really is very cool over there.) For instance, just today Karen Mori Bonner, one of our liscensed therapists, came by to help us understand the symbols in our recurring dreams. It was just fascinating! Oh, I wish you would join us there!

Flock needs to be a place of safety and security, so I can’t go about pell-mell letting the whole internet in on the discussions that go on there. People need a little privacy to tell their stories. But suffice it to say, what’s going down in the Flock  is good stuff!

I am trying to think of ways to let you in sideways a little, and you can learn a lot from people by what they read. So today I am sharing with you some of the intriguing books that Flock members have on their bedside table. There are A LOT of good ones, so I’ll start with just three novels today. May you find a book to companion you on your journey — and may you join us in the Flockso we can be your withmates as well.

Much Warmth,

-Rachelle

Sing Them Home: A Novel
This is a new novel from Stephanie Kallos, author of Broken for You, which was a formative novel for me in my process of deconstructing/reconstructing faith. (See this postfrom 2005 to see what I started breaking.) Now Kallos is back and Publisher Weekly says: “This novel will find a welcome audience in anyone who has experienced grief, struggled with family ties or, most importantly, appreciates blossoming talent.”

The Help
by Kathryn Stockett. This debut novel is about a white woman gathering stories from the black women that served in their upper crust households in the early 1960’s. Again from Publisher Weekly: “What perfect timing for this optimistic, uplifting debut novel…set during the nascent civil rights movement in Jackson, Miss., where black women were trusted to raise white children but not to polish the household silver… Assured and layered, full of heart and history, this one has bestseller written all over it.” (This one was raved about by more than one Flock reader!)

Her Fearful Symmetry: A Novel 
Oh, thank God Audrey Niffengger is writing again! I adored The Time Traveler’s Wife. It remains one of my all time favorite novels. And her incredible The Three Incestuous Sisters: An Illustrated Novel is a favorite art piece of mine. (It was ten years in the making!) Now Niffenger is back with another haunting tale, as described by Amazon reviews:  “The novel opens with the death of Elspeth Noblin, who bequeaths her London flat and its contents to the twin daughters of her estranged twin sister back in Chicago. These 20-year-old dilettantes, Julie and Valentina, move to London, eager to try on a new experience like one of their obsessively matched outfits. I am SO buying this the next time I am in an English booksellers!

Stay tuned for more recommendations from the Flock bedside table. Sign up on my mailing list, or follow me on Twitter and you won’t miss a single post. Thanks for being here!

Since reading Style Statement: Live by your own design, I’ve begun following author Danielle LaPorte’s kick-butt blog White Hot Truth. For the start of the new year Danielle had a couple of great posts in which she asked “What are you going to STOP doing in 2010?”

 Being a big proponent of the Do Less Revolution, I thought Danielle’s idea was fan-damn-tastic. So for this week’s *8Things let’s list *8Things To STOP Doing in 2010. I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours….

STOP:

1. Talking Myself Out of Exercise. It’s not longer a conversation. It happens every day. Period.
2. Trying to Get to Know Danes/New Expats. We’re used to big circle, but our tiny circle is lovely.
3. Reducing My Prices/Waiving My Fees. I charge a fair fee. Full stop.
4. Taking Sleep Meds. They don’t work. Why do I keep trying?
5. Feeling Guilty. Chronic pain is chronic pain. Sometimes you have to lie down.
6. Watching Hulu:I just found out I can access it again from abroad. Yipes! Lalalala. I can’t hear you Hulu.
7. Leaving Facebook Open: Time to just check it once and shut it down.
8. Deflecting Compliments. Send ‘em my way — this year I’ll accept them graciously. Try me!

What are are your *8Things to Stop Doing in 2010? Grab a button and play along, or put your list in the comments below.  If you post on your list on your blog, please give us the permalinkin the Mr. Linky below so we can come say hi! Thanks for being here.

To hang out a little more with Danielle LaPorte’s way of thinking, join us in the Flock in February when we’ll be doing Style Statement: Live by your own design as our first ever Read-a-Long.

Returning To My Mother’s House: Taking Back the Wisdom of the Feminine

by Gail Straub

Of all the things I struggle with in my overly reflective life, one of the most prominent is my somewhat spotty ability to stand in my own power and to connect with my innate internal authority. So much of what has informed my life-decisions has come from sources external to myself—forces dominated by the patriarchal structures of church and culture. As I approach my forties, I have made it a priority to stop listening to those external opinions, and to focus more intently upon the intuitive, instinctive wisdom that lies within my own self. This is what Gail Straub addresses in her book, Returning To My Mother’s House: Taking Back the Wisdom of the Feminine. This not the story of a literal return to the place of her childhood, but a metaphysical return to the birthplace of classically feminine traits which Straub describes as “the rich realm of feelings and moods, intuition and creativity, stillness and contemplation.”

Straub tells the story of herself, her mother and the disconnect that occurred between them as she moved into adulthood. In her own younger years, Straub’s own mother left behind adventure and creativity to acquiesce to the cultural norm of home and family. In contrast, Straub chose to travel the world, to embrace art and lovers, and to delve into experimentation and intrigue. But in spite of her bohemian lifestyle, Straub eventually felt a deep disconnect from her feminine wisdom—a disconnection which was tied to her mother’s unexpected death in Straub’s early twenties. This book is the story of how Straub recovers from that loss and reacquaints herself with feminine ways of knowing and being.

I think now that taking back my feminine was like a holy excavation, a layer-by-gradual-layer digging to reclaim the hidden artifacts of untamed imagination, kinship with the mystery, quiet contemplation, feelings and moods, and the fluid spaciousness that embraces paradox, mending the opposites of life into a whole.
(p. 100)

Returning to My Mothers’ House is an intriguing story of a varied and thoughtful life. Straub has a concise but reflective writing style that allows the reader to move rapidly through the story. She is effectively selective regarding which stories she chooses to tell, and makes clear observations about key events in her life and the revelations which followed. While she does not make a distinctive summary of these life-lessons in the book, the reading group questions and other materials on her website help the readers draw out the specifics and enhance the “take away” value of the text. For instance, the accompanying material includes a summary of five ways women lose their innate feminine wisdom which includes, among others: fleeing from one’s emotions, losing connection with one’s physical self, and becoming addicted to ‘doing’ – all things to which many of us can relate. Straub’s website also includes suggested practices for taking back the wisdom of the feminine. These practices are embedded within the stories told in the book, but are separated out and stated more succinctly here. The combination of the book along with the discussion material provided on her site, create a powerful transformational tool for women who are seeking to reconnect to the wisdom they know lies within. I highly recommend it, especially as reading material for a book group, or perhaps as the launching point for a Soultribe.

Come, come dear reader, return to the house of the Great Mother. Up, up, take the elegant grand staircase of relationships made up of collaboration, cooperation, communication and caring….where the rooms of intuition provide safe haven for the imagination, for dreams and symbols, for creativity, and the arts. … I know how you feel up here in this sacred space; this is what has been missing from your life, this is what you have been so hungry for.
(from the prologue)

I know I’ve been on a bit of a depressive bent lately, but I’m a big fan of being in the moment, and this is the moment right now. Hang in there with me. We’ll turn the corner eventually.

If you are mourning some loss in your life — a loved one, your own youth, your health, a dream unfullfilled–these books could give you some companionship for the journey. And as always, please add your own good resources in the comments. Shalom.

The cover from my current journal, made with a postcard of Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist”–my personal icon of mourning.

I am coming to the realization that I have two functional weeks a month. Otherwise the pain level is too severe. I can’t write well when I’m this foggy.

For awhile there, for a beautiful hopeful season, I was in better remission and I had most of the month free and clear. But now, it’s back to just two weeks. If it gets worse, if it gets to be more than this, I’ll have to fly home and see my super special Dr. Woo-Woo and get back on top of this. You all have to hold me accountable to this okay? If I’m out of it more than two weeks a month you have to say, “Rachelle, it’s worth the money. Fly home. Spend a week or two on Dr. Lewis’ treatment table.”

Chronic pain is such a complex creature. It is a large part of your life, but it is not your life. It is a big part of you, but it is not who you are. Living within those paradoxical realities is challenging, perhaps as challenging as figuring out the physical bits and pieces of it–the medicines and the food allergies and the exercise and sleep needs and all the more attainable nuts and bolt-ness of it all.

I’ve wanted to write something about this for while. Something like Nicholas Wolterstorff’s Lament of a Son which not a self-help book, but the author’s story about the death of his son. The telling itself though, is helpful. The telling itself is the companionship for the journey.

In the beautiful children’s book Frida, the author says “she turned her pain into something beautiful.” I’d like to do that. I’d like to tell true things – stories that are also helpful.

I don’t know why I always leap to the idea of a book, when clearly articles and essays are my most natural length. (I just get so distracted by sparkly things, and without a real deadline I skip from project to project. This is not a boon to my agent.) At any rate, maybe an article would be more reasonable here….maybe something for The Sun. I have a couple little bits that might turn into something. This one for instance, or this artsy bit here, or here. Or maybe these more practical stories. And then there is what I wrote this morning, based on an image that came to me while I was doing Shavasana on the living room floor:

I offer this pain to you on a gilt platter.
No, held aloft in a silver bowl.
I give it to you coiled, or swirling and boiling.
A dark depth. An oily surface.

I give it to you as an offering because it is a part of me.
Because some days, it is all of me.
I give it to you as a gift, you who the wise ones says want all of me. (Though perhaps they are not so wise.)
I give it to you as a gift to see what you will make of it.

Will you touch it with a long-nailed finger and turn its surface to silver? Sprinkle it with some earthy magic? Feed it drops of Lucy’s cordial? Will you blow on it and part the waters; wave a hand and vanish it all; speak and make it to run clear; drink it down within yourself?

What will you do then,
with this pain that drains from the trinity of my eyes and the bridge of my nose?
What will you make of this dark offering?

Play us out Sister Alanis.

The energy and sunlight of Summer can wake up our creative spirit — or the the heat and presence of the Children can rob us of our energy and time. Either way, this set of books is a good fit.

If you’re feeling ready to make/write/create/do something, one of these will give you new ideas and encourage you on. If you don’t have time for your regular work of writing/painting/carving monuments out of marble, then these books will let you slip things in around the edges. Several of them work well across age groups and can be used for collaborative art with the young ones. Happy creating, and thanks for supporting Magpie Girl! (More reviews here, if you’re curious…)

I’ll admit it — I read The Da Vinci Code, in hardback, and I LOVED IT! Sure it was like reading a Hollywood script and the timeline (among other things) was completely ridiculous. But I dig religious conspiracy theories, and grail legends are well…legendary…for a reason. Plus, it was Summer, so why not read something that has a cliffhanger at the end of every chapter?

But even better than a fun read, is a fun read that’s also well crafted. Those, dear friends, are hard to find. So here’s a little list for you all — a brand new carousel full of great reads for road trips, backyard hammocks, and days at the lake. I hope you find something you love amongst these treasures I love. And remember, anything you purchased by clicking on a link helps support this blog. Tak, and good reading!

Notes from an Exhibition
Patrick Gale

When it comes to museum gift shops, I am an undeniable sucker. I usually manage to resist buying the paint-your-own-Van-Gogh tee shirt set for the kids. But beyond that my will power fades.

Last month at the National Gallery in London I discovered a new and marvelous new gift shop offering – novels with art-and-artists tie ins! I am so in love!

The culprit this visit was Notes from an Exhibition by Patrick Gale. This moody, complicated novel drew and me in and kept me captivated from beginning to end. It’s one of those books you just devour.

Rachel Kelly is an abstract artist with fabulous execution and ground breaking ideas. She’s also schizophrenic, bipolar, and fond of hiding her meds. For some reason having four kids seemed like a good idea, and her longsuffering family is shaped by her difficult personal world—inheriting both her brilliance and her madness.

When Rachel dies suddenly in her locked studio, her family begins to peer tentatively into their past and face into their mental and emotional present. As each character unwinds his or her story, we see how Rachel’s dominate presence has influenced each of them– for good and for ill. Author Patrick Gale also shows us how each character’s individual personality, talents, and perspectives forms their own story and shapes their family’s history.

You know how I love clever, and Gale uses a very clever technique, beginning each chapter with an exhibition card from Rachel’s posthumous final show. But where many authors stop at clever hooks, Gale manages to go on to craft a very fine story. With the exception of the youngest child Petroc, each character is well developed, showing us both their flaws and the things which makes them endearing. And while the book moves back and forth through time, at times telling us the same piece of family history from a different viewer’s perspective, Gale manages to avoid that annoying re-hashing phenomenon that most authors fall prey to when employing this timeline technique. Finally, Gale manages to weave together meaty themes without preaching at the reader or bogging down the narrative.
With finely developed characters and topics as diverse as faith, family, art, passion, illness, death, and creation, Notes from an Exhibition feels as enriching as it is intriguing. Today’s Flavor: Complex and satisfying.

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