Living a Beautiful Life

Desk and Planner

I started writing this blog post nearly two years ago. Seeing a friend’s link on Facebook yesterday about the death of Anne Ortlund spurred me to publish the post finally.

My mother gave me a book—perhaps shortly after I graduated from college—called Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, written by Anne Ortlund in 1977. It has become one of those books that has shaped me markedly—at least my thoughts, if not always how I live. The book is significant, first of all, because my mother selected it for me. It thus bears her stamp of approval, plus shows how well she knows me—I need extra help being disciplined. It also carries the message of the importance of being/becoming a “beautiful woman,” again, even more significant because it is my mother who believes this is important for her daughter.

I received this book long before I moved to Pasadena from Washington state or visited Lake Avenue (Congregational) Church, where Anne's husband, Ray Ortlund, had been the senior pastor for many years. When I first read Anne’s anecdote about visiting an office supply store in La Cañada after giving a seminar to a “luscious-looking crowd of 150 women” only to find that it was sold out of the notebook products she had recommended, I had no idea that one day I’d live just down the freeway from that exclusive Southern California enclave.

It was Anne’s description of her notebook (or planner as it might be called today) that intrigued me most. My annual attempts at organizing myself via any number of variations on a diary, calendar, notebook, planner or journal, were often modeled on Anne’s description of how she put together her planner—a calendar first, followed by sections for goals and various other lists—and her preferred dimensions of the planner (7” x 9”).

Related chapters discuss goals, daily scheduling, and a woman’s desk.

My image of Anne is from the small portrait on the back cover of her book, perhaps when she was in her early 60s? So, I was shocked to read she was 89 years old when she died on November 4.

Having been reminded of this role-model-via-book, I am encouraged to revisit the many areas of my life—both private and public—that could be more disciplined and, thus, become more beautiful.

What are your thoughts on the relationship between discipline and beauty?

On reading (again)

All we need to know is how to recognize God's will for the present moment. Any reading we might choose without regard to the will of God is harmful to us. The will of God and obedience to His leading brings [sic] us grace, and this grace is what does the work in the depths of our hearts through reading or anything else we do. Without God, books are but vain appearances, deprived of God's life-giving power as far as we are concerned, and they only succeed in emptying the heart by the very satisfaction our reading brings to the mind [emphasis mine].

From The Joy of Full Surrender (Paraclete Essentials) by Jean-Pierre de Caussade, page 18

Another in the occasional series on reading and books.

Too many books

NOTE: The following reflections are not intended to criticize or question anyone else’s reading or book habits. They are based on my particular experience.

I have been going through the boxes of books that have been stored in the garage, trying to decide what to do with them—which would be the most useful ones to keep and which ones should I sell. Not knowing the best way to dispose of them (it is a buyer’s market right now), I have been entering the books on LibraryThing so that I have a more efficient way of organizing them even when they are packed away.

Flashbacks: the latest literary novels given as gifts by a former boss during my corporate-world days; novels from college literature classes; a book purchased from the college bookstore after scanning the books for literature courses not taken; Dorothy Sayers’ mysteries purchased from a used book store (just one example of so many random used bookstore book purchases); books familiar by their cover even if never read; books representing many different stages of life, journeys started but not finished (e.g., doctorate in Old Testament/Hebrew Bible).

So many books to be organized and dealt with. (The boxes are in addition to the books in the house.) They represent hours and days of time spent reading, thousands upon thousands of dollars spent buying, if added up over time. Most of the books have been read only once, quickly—no notes taken, no discussion with another; no written review, no serious critique.

And what about all those books I have already gotten rid of or returned to the library? Are the number of books I’ve accumulated and the amount of reading I have done worth it? In many ways, for me, I think not.

Too often, books have been an escape, a method to numb mind and emotions, a vicarious way of experiencing life, a settling for reading/thinking about something rather than going through the halting, difficult steps of doing something—whether learning a new skill or language; taking time to be with or write/talk to friends; untangling the mysterious puzzle of being a human—a woman; thinking through and solving problems.

I have been very tempted by all the book blogs now online. There is something extremely alluring about lists and lists of books. Now, it is easier than ever just to read about reading and not even read the actual books. And, now you don’t have to go to actual bookstores or a library to spend hours lost in browsing titles—just click through the hundreds of books on Amazon’s recommendation list.

I worry about the ways reading can negatively shape character and personality, affect productivity, and inform life decisions—and how one can be oblivious of (or at least rationalize mightily about) the effects of reading, until confronted by an insightful other.

Then, the work of "regaining our illiteracy" can begin. (From a chapter title in Knitting for Anarchists by Anna Zilboorg.)