Anne Lindbergh, Part 1 of 3: on Simplicity

While hurling my body across the country on a recent trip I took my mind on a vacation of several hours by reading Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s book, Gifts from the Sea. Written more than 50 years ago, it’s a collection of meditations from a few weeks’ vacation taken alone. The 1950s world she was leaving behind was a different world, and yet, much the same too.

As she adjusts to the rhythm of life in her beach cabin, Lindbergh embraces its simplicity. The world she lived in was already characterized by choice, by freedom, by the opportunity to expand in any or all directions. This can make life quite stressful and complicated. She points out that women in large parts of the world have been forced back by war and poverty and the struggle to survive into lives with fewer choices; necessarily, simpler lives. The typical American is relatively free to choose a wider existence. While that’s a tremendous privilege, it often leads us away from a sustainable life of simplicity into a fragmented multiplicity.

At the beach, in her bare seashell of a house, things were different. Not only was she able to leave behind her husband and five children for a time, but also the round of chores, errands, and appointments, of what to wear and what to say and what to do. To sit, and rest, and listen, and think, and write.

What extraordinary freedom and peace a simpler life can bring. Surely we should all seek some days, at least that are simple, and not crowded with the many choices and privileges with which we fill our lives.

“I remember, again, ironically, that today more of us in America than anywhere else in the world have the luxury of choice between simplicity and complication of life. And for the most part, we, who could choose simplicity, choose complication.” Gifts from the Sea, p. 33

As she reflects on it, Lindbergh realizes that this has been a struggle for mankind all along, but maybe more so in our day, and maybe especially for women.

“For to be a woman is to have interests and duties, raying out in all directions from the mother-core, like spokes from the hub of a wheel. The pattern of our lives is essentially circular. We must be open to all points of the compass; husband, children, friends, home, community; stretched out, exposed, sensitive like a spider’s web to each breeze that blows, to each call that comes. How difficult for us, then, to achieve a balance in the midst of these contradictory tensions, and yet how necessary for the proper functioning of our lives.” p. 28

What do you think? She was writing in a time when to be a woman was to be a wife, mother, and housekeeper. And you who are housewives may recognize and identify with this description more readily. But perhaps it describes many other lives as well. As a single person I find my life is a bit different yet in my work it does tend to ray out in different directions. People know they can come to me for help, or connections, or resources, and I’ll help them get what they need. Is it just my personality, or is it in some sense because I am a woman?

Would such words ring true for some men, as well?

Free Stuff

So, most of you know I edit a weekly ezine. The only part I actually write, though, is the monthly roundup promoting cool missions resources.

I've always thought that people who ask me to promote their stuff through that means might think about sending me a free copy. But this seldom happens. In the CP days people sent a lot of stuff to our office and it would usually make its way to my desk. Greg, our president, often received free books. He'd pass them along to me to peruse, promote, and/or add to our library. These days, without Greg or someone like him, that kind of thing has slowed to a trickle.

When I got home from my latest trip, though, I discovered I had hit the jackpot. The Southern Baptists' Women's Missionary Union had asked if they could send me some samples. I said sure.

25 books! (Look like some good 'uns, too.)

Southwest

I would kind of like to be one of those people who brings back cool stuff from the places I visit - food to share, gifts, souvenirs, or photos at least.

All I'm really good for is stories.

But I did get out my camera this time.

More images here.

Jet Set to El Paso

Ever flown on one of these little Canada Regional Jets? When I printed my boarding pass last night I knew that I was in for something different.

Gate B79... that means you go all the way to one end of the B concourse, and then some. Descend a mysterious staircase into the bowels of the airport, down a long hall, and finally, out onto the tarmac where you walk through actual air out to where the plane is parked. It looks like nothing so much as a city bus that just happens to have wings.

The front door of the plane folds down. Climb the five little steps, and in you go.

A CRJ200 holds 50 people.

Best Song

In honor of Slumdog Millionaire (which I saw last weekend, and hear is a shoe-in to win best picture at the Academy Awards tonight) I commend to you the song played under the closing credits, Jai Ho. It's also up for "best song."

Read

Jai Ho Lyrics

here.

Choosy

People speaking or writing about the joys and/or importance of reading often start off talking about how full of books their houses are.

Yet it is not necessary to own something to enjoy it.

Our library district appears over-funded. I'm presently carrying around two books that they did not previously own but purchased on my request. I feel a little spoiled but am glad for their generosity. By the time my three weeks are up I'll return these riches to their shelves so others can enjoy them too.

My basic rule (though I bend it some) is to avoid buying anything I haven't read at least a good chunk of, at least once. That won't make sense to those of you who only read things once, but I seldom read good books less than two or three times.

When considering buying a book I see for sale in a bookstore (or advertised) I frequently think, "I'll wait until it comes out in paperback."

I'm rethinking that policy. Sure, it saves money. But a lot of what I like about owning books is wrapped up in their paper, design, and pleasantness to handle. And sometimes the hardbacks are just better. There's something that's really satisfying and superior about a nice hard-cover book, old or new. If I'm going to give a book a semi-permanent space in my life, I want it to be high quality.

I mention this because I recently found myself in possession of two books in hardback which I'd intended to acquire in paperback, and am glad at the mistake. One I bought used from Amazon; the other a family member picked off my wish list. Both Mike Mason's Champagne for the Soul (about which I've blogged previously, and may again) and Phillip Yancey's Prayer (ditto) are books I'm glad to now own in sturdy editions.

What things are best in paperback? Maybe those one wishes to carry on a trip, wherein weight becomes a factor.

Last week my suitcase weighed in at 50.5 pounds on the way to Indiana. Yikes. The airline didn't charge me for overweight luggage, but they could have. I came home 20 pounds lighter, having sold all the books I brought for that purpose. Now each of those customers who bought my books (or those to whom they gave them) has to ask, is this book worth space on my shelf?

What about you, what things do you love enough to be choosy about?

You’ve Got MORE Mail

I’ve noticed that the more promptly you answer your emails, the faster you get a response. For me, this can be very motivating. I thrive on feedback. But it can also create false priorities and inappropriate urgency. Keeping up with the new stuff tends to mean letting the older stuff get older.

As a result, I wonder what my correspondents think of me (if they think of me at all?) Were we to poll them, some would probably say, “That Marti Smith, she is so helpful and responsive!” and others would say, “It was just a simple question, and I’ve been waiting for months…” And of course both perspectives are equally valid: I’m tremendously responsive and tremendously unresponsive – consistently inconsistent!

And phone messages are harder, because I tend to lose any social skills or finesse I may have when I talk on the phone. Even as things tend to get resolved more quickly on the phone, and it's a better way to get to know people than over email, it's not a better way to get to know me; it's me at my worst. I'm always at least a little upset at being interrupted, put on the spot by receiving the call or having had to make it, and that tension shows. Something inside me freezes. I'm so much better on paper or in person.

Well, about a week and a half ago I tried to dig out, on the email side at least. By writing 45 emails on Friday, and 30 on Sunday, I got my inbox considerably cleaned out. So, now, with my messages flooding the inboxes of others, I suppose I am either (1) a blessing, or (2) part of their email problem!

Monday felt good, but I logged in the next morning to find 31 new emails.

Maintaining communication networks is both wonderful and stressful. I have a love/hate relationship with it. Sometimes it feels like an addiction. I need to lay down some ground rules for myself to make sure I’m being responsible and responsive, but also finding some peace and balance.

(With this, as with any struggle, I find only one thing that's really effective in dissolving my tendency to make things more complicated than they have to be. It's my friendship with Jesus. Some of my more secular readers might not understand, but if you've experienced this, I guess you know what I mean. It's as if he just takes my hand and says, with gentleness and love, "Get up. I'll go with you.")

See also Jon Swanson's post of a few weeks ago, Friday Morning.