Reading may seem like a solitary pleasure, but we do not believe it is so. As we read, we intimately interact with writers, the worlds they create, and our own inner selves as well as the real world that surrounds us. Some of us are also blessed enough to have friends to share the experience with.

While discussing the idyllic village of Three Pines and the captivating characters author Louise Penny created in the Inspector Gamache books, we were aware of the sensory pleasure to be had in the meals described. Olivier’s Bistro, Gabri’s baking, and dinners at the Morrow’s can easily make us salivate while reading the books… Louise Penny's books, are a wonderful entrĂ©e into a sensual world, where each book is a season, capturing its mood and flavours, and contributing to the layers of meaning about the characters, who are marvellously revealed over the series.

At one point, a daydream of going through the series with a notebook in hand, writing down all these meals and later cooking them, took shape. This is our "notebook". We hope you enjoy this literary-culinary-sensory-philosophical journey.

Friday, August 12, 2016

Tea, Ruth, and Kindness

by Amy

This may just be my most personal post yet. And I don't have my books with me so I can't get actual quotes.

Remember the whole butterfly and caterpillar theme? And change? And "in-between" phases? Well, I'm going into cocoon mode now and am in an "in-between" phase.

My family is in the midst (literally) of a continental move. The last post was posted from one place. Today I'm writing from a hotel room, with a new computer I haven't yet quite gotten the hang of (I keep inadvertently deleting things and selecting things and losing all my work), drinking tea from a bag in a paper cup (Libby might revoke my friendship rights - I hope not).

I had been planning to write about tea and Ruth. Or begin to write about Ruth. There is so much to say I don't think this post will even begin to cover it. There will be a part 2. I'm sure. So I suppose this particular tea is probably the perfect one to post. It's very Ruth-like, isn't it? Paper cup and tea bag?

There's a scene, in NATURE OF THE BEAST where Ruth is drinking tea, looking at (or is it reading?) the play and remembering. Memory tortures her and she has spent an embittered life full of remorse.

I'm not even half her age. But there's something about a big move and lots of goodbyes that gives you a unique opportunity for reassessment and self-evaluation (especially if you're already prone to it - I am). I spent most of the past months planning who I want to become (because we can always ask ourselves who we want to be when we "grow up") and reassessing who I was - and am.

Kindness has been the recurring word in my mind.

It's almost eerie how the written word "haunts"  me in a sense. Whatever I am thinking about, mulling over, or needing seems to pop up in literature or in whatever written media I happen to come across.

I was thinking about what I was leaving behind, I was wondering how I would be remembered and hoped my legacy included kindness.

That said, I wish I had been kinder. In a conversation with a friend about an incident between us that happened 20 years ago, I mentioned I still regretted not having been kinder. She laughed (she didn't remember the incident) and told me I couldn't expect my younger self to be at the same place I was now and that she was sure I wouldn't have done the same in the same circumstance if it had been nowadays. She was gracious. She was also right. I hope.

Then I was reading Auggie & Me (R.J.Palacio) with my son and we ran across the character Charlotte. I knew her. I was her. I am her. Even though she's an 11 year old. She is learning what it is to be kind. At one point, she acknowledges and realizes that she may be nice, but that kindness trumps niceness. My son summarizes it as, "it's good to be nice, but between niceness and kindness? Kindness wins". I love that at one point, when she tells her principal about a friend who should be acknowledged for her kind behavior, the principal (who is as gracious as my friend was) tells her that she, too, is to be congratulated because "being nice is the first step to being kind". His words were a balm to my soul.

That same week (see how the written word seems to "haunt" me?) I read George Saunders's Advice to Graduates. It was like he had written how I felt. Except he was much more eloquent than I could have been.

I began receiving thank you notes and messages and cards and phone calls from patients in my practice. After 10 years, I was closing up shop and moving away and they were feeling orphaned. I was gifted with their appreciation and so happy because what they thanked me for and what they said they would remember was my kindness. So as I was assessing myself and finding myself wanting (I set high standards for myself in some regards), I was soothed by feedback from those who had been on the receiving end and were assuring me that (while I may not have reached my goals) I am on the right track.

And, finally, in packing up the things that matter (like old journals and school papers and books), I found an old journal I had written when I was 9. Just a little older than my son is now. The entire journal was dedicated to kindness. I was trying to be kinder and writing down things I had done to make people feel better about themselves, or to help someone in need, or to make someone feel appreciated and welcome, or...

I confess that I was shocked. I didn't remember that. I also hadn't realized how little I'd changed in almost 30 years.

When I reread the scene with Ruth, I was moved to tears. She sat down and wept.

That must have been so painful.

Is there anything worse than being condemned by our own conscious?

I feel for Ruth. But I am thankful that while I may find myself wanting and while there is more than one (many, many more) incident where I, too, feel like I have betrayed a friend or a trust, have taken a wrong turn, or have hurt someone... I have not been paralyzed by remorse.

As I looked back on my life and evaluated those instances where I could have done better, some I could console myself with the fact that I had asked for forgiveness and, when possible, made amends. Some, like George Saunders's story, where about growing up and learning to do better. And, in those instances, I reminded myself that I am still learning and to be tolerant of my own shortcomings.

I feel for Ruth.

But I am thankful that while I have shed a few tears in all these goodbyes and adjustments, they have mostly been happy tears.

I apologize for posting an unedited post, but the cocoon awaits and transition has a "to do" list a mile long.

My main goal? I hope my metamorphosis makes me kinder.

5 comments:

  1. Dear Amy,
    Have always been deeply moved by your many thoughtful considerations and expansions on Louise’s writing and her wonderfully truly human characters. But I cannot help but respond to your latest post. Thank you for sharing your vulnerability, your strength, your insecurities, your courage, and your thoughts during this time of enormous transition for yourself. I can only imagine the difficulties and fears about moving to a new continent! Your introspection into the real meaning of kindness is beautifully written. I have encountered many of the same struggles with efforts to be truly compassionate and kind over the years. I have relished the opportunities when they provide themselves to encourage young kids working in a summer internship program with the parks department, working on trail repair and maintenance; purposely getting in line at the grocery store for a cashier with the sign, “cashier in training”, trying to offer encouragement and humor at the seemingly impossible task of trying to remember all those numerical produce codes for the computer; offering a simple “good morning” greeting to those walking alone whom I pass on my morning walks. When I reflect afterwards on some of these simple actions, many times I feel really stupid, like I’m trying too hard, that my encouragement might seem patronizing, that I will be viewed as just a silly old, emotional woman. Many times, I find that it is also so much harder to accept kindness than it is to accept it – feeling unworthy to be the recipient of kindness from another.
    Ruth embodies so many of these conflicting feelings. I have come to truly love Ruth as a character. Her sharp tongue and apparent rudeness cover an incredible sense of unworthiness, deep regret and remorse over past actions. And yet in Louise’s books, she is also often wonderfully strong and courageous. In Fatal Grace, Ruth instantly assumes complete control over several emergency situations, organizing the community and giving orders to take control of the situation, when CC dies on the ice at the curling match, and later in the same book, when there is the fire at Saul Petrov’s rented home. The Three Pines community looks to her for leadership and she does not disappoint them. Her fierce loyalty is frequently demonstrated, as she maintains her daily vigil near the grave of her beloved dog, Daisy, and her ongoing care for Rosa, her concern and patience with Jean Guy when he is at the rock bottom point of his difficult journey, her encounter with Clara at the end of The Nature of the Beast where she forces Clara to confront the truth behind her artistic block and provides her the hint of the way forward, her tender invitation to Evelyn LePage to come live with her when her world seems at an end, after she has lost not only a child, but also her husband. She camouflage’s her sense of vulnerability and fears with her rough language, but her Three Pines friends can see through that and understand her and love her on a much deeper level. I look forward to learning much more about Ruth in Louise’s future books and hoping that she can arrive at a sense of peace, allowing her to finally forgive herself.
    I too find myself at an in between point in my life, attempting my own metamorphosis into what my heart has been needing all my life, but which I have been unable to do due to multiple other requirements and prescriptions. Yes, there is much uncertainty and fear and insecurity, but through it all, we must listen to what our hearts are telling us, to move on with courage and strength, like our friend, Ruth. Soon, you will be able to settle in to your new home, and as you unpack and begin your new life in your new world, you will unpack to find your favorite mug to hold your tea, and even that little discovery will give you a boost and you will find the strength and courage to discover your way forward, ready to discover your new Three Pines community, even as I try to do the same. Thank you again for sharing your thoughts with us – we are so very deeply appreciative.

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    1. Beautifully written, anonymous!

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    2. Oh Anonymous,
      You have made me cry.
      Happy tears.
      Your answer was more valuable, even, than Mr. Tushman's (principal in Auggie & Me) words to Charlotte...
      You have hit upon two issues that I hadn't included in my post and didn't even think to write of, but could immediately identify with. It's easier to give than to accept kindness. Also, there is a difference between being kind and being patronizing. And sometimes there is a fear of being seen as the latter. You are so right.
      I wonder if empathy -true empathy, that is - is the divider?
      Your response is much appreciated and your thoughts on Ruth are wonderful.
      I agree... she hides her vulnerability.
      I think she softens as the series goes on... Or is it just that we, like Beauvoir, learn to read her better and see beyond her gruff manner? Perhaps.
      Sigh.
      And already I can think of more than one instance, just this week, where I feel like I could have been kinder.
      But I'll try to be forgiving of myself. My son painted a self portrait at school a few months ago. All the other children just painted a self portrait. He added words to his. It's a portrait and, to the right, he painted: "Message: it's not perfect, but I'm not da Vinci." Haha! Yeah... I'm not perfect either.
      Thank you for your words. And for your thoughts. And for being so considerate of my baring of my soul.
      You have been kind.

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  2. Amy, I think your writing throughout your blog posts, your observations, your empathies, leave little doubt that kindness is at the heart of you, however much you might at times find yourself wanting. Working on our perceived 'short comings' and striving to be a better person surely speaks of a good heart. And from the goodness of my own, I forgive you the teabag! LOL!!! You are in the throes of settling into a new place after all. Bon chance!
    I love Ruth because of those glimpses of her capacity for great kindness (how could we love her without those), no better exemplied than with Rosa and Beauvoir. She reminds me of those competing parts in ourselves, the good and kind versus the wanting, negative and hurt parts, and the struggle it can be at times.


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    1. Hi Libby,
      Oh! Thank you for forgiving me the tea bag. I use them at home, too... (I'll confess now that you're in a forgiving mood - hahaha)
      And exactly. We forgive Ruth much because she is so passionate and so deeply loyal and forgiving herself. I think she's so bitter BECAUSE she's so sensitive. Does that make sense? You have to be sensitive to be able to hurt that much. Which is why I think Clara identifies with her and takes care not to follow the same path.

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