my favourite reads of 2020

To be honest, I still feel like it’s 2020 in many ways! So much of what happened last year is still continuing, in many parts of the world. I feel very lucky to be where I am, and to have made the choices I did when I did.

To my surprise, I did not read as many books in 2020 as I thought I had. Perhaps I wasn’t as diligent about recording them in Goodreads as I had been in other years. I started many books but then abandoned them, or in some cases they were automatically returned to the library before I finished them.

Having trouble focusing was a very 2020 thing, I’ve discovered.

After 2019, I boldly stated that I wanted to read more widely in 2020 and not just for comfort and escapism. That ambition was quickly shelved (no pun intended) as I took comfort and escapism wherever I could find them, like most people.

According to Goodreads, I read 99 books in 2020 - as in 2019, I didn’t really log anything I read for my studies - and of those 99:

• 6 were re-reads (same number as last year)

• 56 were non-fiction

• 7 were poetry collections

• 36 were fiction

• 13 were by authors who identify as male

• 83 were by authors who identify as female

• 2 were by non-binary people

• 7 were by people of colour.

I’m only compiling these stats because 1) I’m a stats person and 2) I’m genuinely curious about whether I read as widely and diversely as I think I do. You can’t change what you don’t know and I’m as guilty as the next white person of automatically reaching for books that reflect my worldview. That’s something I’d like to change.

But without further ado, in no particular order, these were my favourite books that I read in 2020, the strangest of years.

Wintering by Katherine May

Wintering is a delightful book that draws parallels with the way the natural world adapts to survive (and even thrive in) winter and the invariable "winters" that human beings go through in life "where you fall through the cracks for a while, and spend a season out in the cold".

In a mix of self-help, memoir and nature writing, Katherine May writes perceptively and quite beautifully about the cyclic nature of life, both in the physical world through the seasons and in our emotional landscape. Far from being bleak and depressing, winter can be a time of renewal and growth. May shares insights from her own "wintering" as well as interviews with other people who have endured extreme cold as well as extreme personal hardships.

It's a book about slowing down, surrendering, learning to be kind to yourself and embrace change, and accepting that life goes through seasons. As May writes, "once we stop wishing it were summer, winter can be a glorious season". And most importantly, like all winters, whether it be the actual season or the hard time you're experiencing, it won't last forever. The season will turn, and you will get through it. It will not always be winter. Spring will come again.

It's the perfect read for any time of year but particularly pertinent in autumn when the nights are getting darker and colder!

Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers

I absolutely adored this book. It drew me in from the first page and had me fascinated until the very end. In fact, I think I gasped aloud when I made the connection between the opening newspaper report and the sad ending I was powerless to stop!

I was a fan of Clare Chambers' earlier books and was delighted to see she had a new one out. If you're after a comforting yet gripping read where you disappear into a different time, into a world so finely drawn and filled with characters you come to care deeply about, then Small Pleasures is the book for you. Highly recommended.

The Woman who fooled the world by Nick Toscano and Beau Donnelly

This non-fiction book read like a thriller. It was so engrossing, I could barely drag myself away from it. The authors are the two journalists who uncovered the truth about Belle Gibson, the Australian woman who founded a multi-million dollar business and an incredible online following by claiming she had cured herself of brain cancer by following a wholefoods diet. If you are interested in the health and wellness space, chances are you’ll have heard of this scandal!

It turns out Belle Gibson never had cancer at all. It was an almost unbelievable deception, and yet somehow she pulled it off. How? And, perhaps more importantly, why? This book delves deep into those two questions and it makes for a real page-turner. It’s an examination of why Belle Gibson was able to successfully fool so many people, providing false hope to genuine cancer sufferers who were desperate to live and be cured, as she supposedly had.

The authors posit that Gibson’s lies and deceit are emblematic of wider failures of our consumerist society - the willingness of big companies such as Apple and Penguin Books to be seduced by an “influencer” with hundreds of thousands of followers, without once fact-checking her claims; a growing distrust of science; and how easy it is to spread misinformation through social media, to name just a few. And were Gibson’s actions the result of psychological issues (nature), of learned behaviours/how she had been raised (nurture), or was she just a psychopath?

It’s a complex, compelling story, tinged with the sad knowledge that there will be many people out there who paid the ultimate price for believing her lies.

Olive by Emma Gannon

Olive is a witty and very relatable novel that centres around a topic I have rarely seen discussed in contemporary women's fiction - not wanting to have children.

Olive is 33, climbing the ladder at the magazine she works for in London (as a former Londoner I enjoyed the setting very much!) and has just broken up with her boyfriend of nearly a decade, because he's ready for kids and she isn't. In fact, she's pretty certain she never wants to have children. This is something she struggles to find understanding about in her immediate circle of friends, and in society as a whole. Everyone has an opinion and most people in Olive's life are confident that she'll change her mind.

If you're a woman in your thirties of the same disposition as Olive, you will find a lot to relate to here. The novel is also an exploration of female friendship and how the lives of Olive and her friends go in different directions, all based on their decisions/desires to become mothers, or not. Emma Gannon captures very well the lonely feeling of being the only one in your group of friends who doesn't have children, even though it's by choice, as well as the more frustrating aspects of your friends' choices being celebrated and prioritised more when yours are questioned, judged or simply dismissed.

I have not ripped through a novel so quickly, nor related so much to a protagonist, for a long time! Any woman in the same boat as Olive will feel recognition, relief and, most importantly, less alone after reading this very enjoyable book. Not enough contemporary literature deals with this choice that more and more women are making, and the feelings of isolation that come with it, so I hope more authors are inspired to follow Emma Gannon's fine example!

Charlotte by helen Moffett

As a die-hard fan of Pride and Prejudice (and Jane Austen in general), having adored the story and characters since I was a child, I have long resisted any sequel or fan-fic by modern writers that involves reimagining this beloved story in any way. It felt like dangerous territory to me, best left alone.

However, after reading Charlotte, I'm beginning to think I've missed a trick. This book very convincingly reimagines that beloved world and characters, through the perspective of a minor character.

Charlotte gives us, as the title suggests, the untold story of Charlotte Lucas and her marriage to Mr Collins. I have long been fascinated by the character of Charlotte, whom many feminist scholars have held up over the years as a character that represents the reality that faced the majority of women, including Jane Austen herself, during that period. As appalled as Charlotte's best friend Elizabeth Bennet is at her decision to marry Mr Collins, a man Lizzy herself has rejected as repulsive, Charlotte's choice is entirely understandable. Whether she loved Mr Collins or even liked him was rather immaterial - for a 'plain' woman, marriage was her ticket out of spinsterhood, being a burden to her family (particularly her brothers who would be honour-bound to support her after the death of their father) and having an insecure future. Love was for those who could afford it.

Charlotte ends up having a very fulfilling life as mistress of her own domain, Hunsford Parsonage, and she and Mr Collins, while still over-effusive and odd, do become a good team, in marriage, life and parenthood. The details of her housekeeping and the fruits (and other products) of the estate are so interesting and enjoyable to read. And there are flashbacks to the scenes we all remember from the original told from Charlotte's perspective (and I appreciated the author's note as to why she reimagined some scenes in a certain way), so this tale is very much anchored in that universe and convincingly so. I particularly enjoyed the reappearance of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the evolution of Anne de Bourgh's story, another minor character from the original who is brought to life and given a lot more to do in this story. It was also highly amusing to hear the fate of Lydia Bennet/Wickham!

About two-thirds of the way through, the story takes a bizarre turn which I didn’t think worked (and many other reviewers agree, I’ve noted). If you can get past that, it is still a wonderful, enthralling read that I would highly recommend to anyone who loves Pride and Prejudice but, like me, feared that reading a reimagined version of it might ruin the original. Far from it.

Life in Pieces by Dawn O’Porter

I love Dawn and her hilarious writing. And even though our lives are very different - I'm not a celebrity living in LA, married to an actor, wrangling two kids and a menagerie of crazy animals - the stories she shares are incredibly relatable.

Life in Pieces is Dawn's diary of lockdown in 2020 - she is coping with all the pandemic madness in the US, coupled with homeschooling her two children, missing the UK and her friends and family there, and trying to keep up with her own writing and workload.

Alongside the world's very public grief and unravelling, Dawn is dealing with her own very private grief and dismantling of a world she knew. Just before the pandemic hit, she lost a close friend to suicide and she finds the forced isolation of lockdown conjures up many past griefs too, particularly the loss of her mother to breast cancer when she was very young.

That said, it's also pant-wettingly funny in places, in trademark Dawn style! She is refreshingly honest about her dependence on alcohol (I found myself craving a margarita once or twice while reading this!) and recreational drugs to get her through the days, and about the antics of her two young sons and pets, and about the pressures of living life in the public eye.

It's an intense read and I probably shouldn't have read it before bed (!) - it's very visceral in places and at times I felt like I'd had a few weed gummies myself!

But ultimately, this book is a tribute to human resilience and how we can carry on in the face of confusion, fear and heartbreak. When life as we know it ends, we can persevere, we can find things to bring joy to every day, and we can still be kind and curious.

How to be Australian by Ashley Kalagian Blunt

I read this book in a day and a night, not wanting it to end. As you all probably know, a bit over two years ago I returned to live in Australia after over a decade in the UK, and while I haven't regretted that decision for a second, it has been quite the transition.

I find this wonderful country very strange at times - and struggle to explain these strange things to my equally befuddled British husband - so to read a memoir about life in Australia from a new Australian's point of view (Ashley is Canadian) was a very affirming experience.

Ashley captures perfectly the adrift feeling of life in a place that you want to belong to but can't quite find your place in. And so many of her adventures are absolutely hilarious! Highly recommended.

UNICORN BY AMROU AL-KHADI

This is a magnificent memoir that deserves a very wide audience indeed.

Amrou Al-Kadhi tells the story of how they grew up in a strict Iraqi Muslim family, in both the Middle East and in the UK, and struggled to fit into any box, norm or expectation, either from society or their family, from a very early age. Highly intelligent, talented and sensitive, Amrou fights racism and prejudice on a daily basis at their public school (showing that Eton is full of the bellends I always suspected it to be!) and hides their true self from their family, having already experienced some profoundly heartbreaking parental judgement and rejection.

At university, Amrou discovers drag. All of sudden, their true self has an outlet and life takes on new meaning and colour...and new complications as well.

I was so moved by this memoir. I can't relate to most of Amrou's experiences, nor to the common experiences of a queer person negotiating uncertainty, fear and trauma, but I certainly can relate to feeling misunderstood and rejected, especially by those we love, and the struggles to find and let our true selves shine through, and to feel safe doing so. Amrou writes with humour, wisdom and insight on what was a very painful journey but now they have found a level of self-acceptance, self-love and peace. This is a book that manages to be brutal and beautiful at the same time. Highly, highly recommended.

THROAT BY ELLEN VAN NEERVEN

One of the upsides to the 2020 lockdown was bookshops holding their launches and events online, which meant I could attend a book launch in Brisbane from my study in Hobart! One of them was the launch of this amazing collection.

Ellen Van Neerven is a skilled and lyrical poet who manages to untangle and distil the messy politics of this fractured, unreconciled land we call Australia, and the experience of being a Bla(c)k queer person within it. Van Neerven has mastered blending the personal with the political - the poems are imaginative (I particularly loved the treaty with the reader) and capture not just big issues of climate change, racism and colonialism, but also love, connection and the more quotidian aspects of life. There was so much to absorb in this collection and Ellen Van Neerven is fast becoming one of my favourite poets.

As always, I’d love to hear your favourite reads of 2020 too!

letters of our lives: to my turning point

This is my third letter in the Letters of our Lives project. Isabel’s is here.

Two and a half years ago, something momentous happened to me.

I still feel overwhelmed when I remember it.

I wrote about it in June 2018 and shared it with my newsletter subscribers (for various reasons, that newsletter only ever had one issue!) but I felt moved to share it today as part of this Letters of Our Lives instalment.

I hope it’s a reminder to anyone who is feeling stuck and lost that you can always find a way forward - you just might have to be prepared to face some uncomfortable truths. And sometimes some Big Magic gets involved too!

Enjoy.

****

To my turning point:

It was May 2018. I had been feeling very lost, and not particularly strong and solid. Life for the last few years had felt like driving on a highway leading somewhere I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, and yet I constantly found excuses not to pull off at the next exit and change direction. Because pulling over to the side and checking the map, maybe even getting some rest and thinking do I want to turn back? Do I want to take the next exit and get off? Do I even know where I’m going? all felt a bit too hard.

And I knew what that sounded like - defeatist and negative, and even a bit self-indulgent. That had been my default way of thinking a long time ago, in my teens and early twenties, but clearly it was creeping back. Like many people, I had thought a better version of myself was waiting in the future once I achieved X, Y and Z. But there was not. I still didn’t feel like I was good enough and my achievements of the past decade suddenly meant very little.

Two years earlier I had written a book about how the “after photo” is just an illusion, and that achieving something and expecting your life to be different on the other side of it is just setting yourself up for a fall. So to be struggling with that very issue was a bit embarrassing, to say the least!

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but all the important lessons in my life have been learned the hard way. This one particularly. There’s a line from the film Cool Runnings which puts it perfectly:

“A gold medal is a wonderful thing. But if you're not enough without one, you'll never be enough with one."

As a result, my writing had stalled at this point in time, even though I had thrown myself into writing my second book in a desperate bid to break the spell. But pressure and inspiration don’t mix – it’s like adding soy sauce to a Victoria sponge. It will not end well.

Despite knowing that things needed to change, and ultimately that responsibility lay with me (another message from my book I was conveniently ignoring), and no matter how many supportive conversations I had with my husband and friends, I felt so stuck.

Enter, you, my turning point, on Saturday 19 May 2018.

Somehow, I found myself at a workshop in the centre of London. The Big Magic workshop, run by one of my heroes, the author Elizabeth Gilbert. I had been told, randomly, about it by one of my Instagram followers who wanted to know if I was going too. Miraculously, there were still tickets available, so I nabbed one as an early birthday present to myself.

A few days out from the event, I received an email from the organisers, asking attendees to submit questions for the Q&A, as there was only a limited time to ask them on the day and this was the most efficient process, given they were expecting a lot of people. I wrote a question, at 7am while sipping coffee, completely uncensored. In a sleepy daze, I just hit send.

I immediately regretted it and got hit with what Brene Brown calls “the vulnerability hangover”.  I read the email back and felt a pang of shame – I’d said too much. But it was too late now.

I reassured myself that there would be hundreds of people going and what were the chances my question would be picked and answered by Liz Gilbert herself?

So I arrived at the workshop, alone, as my friend couldn’t make it after all, and was quite taken by the atmosphere inside this giant hall, slowly filling up with excited-looking people who all seemed very friendly. There was such a lovely vibe in the room.

When Liz walked in, the room went wild! I could hardly believe it was her, in the flesh. And so began our wonderful workshop, where we did writing exercises and then Liz walked around in the audience and encouraged people to share what they’d written. Bizarrely, in a room of nearly 1,000 people, it felt so intimate and safe to share. Whenever someone was hesitant to speak, the support in the room was palpable, you could feel it in the air. With encouragement from Liz and the people around us, we discovered our courage and persistence that had long been lying dormant and dared to listen to what our fear and our enchantment had to tell us.

I loved how Liz carried herself too. At that time she was grieving deeply, having only lost her partner Rayya to cancer a few months earlier, and yet she was so open and generous, making space for sadness and joy, and with very clear boundaries. People did, naturally, try and get a book signed or get her attention in various ways throughout the day, and each time she acknowledged them with kindness and explained why she couldn’t give them what they wanted. It was inspiring to see.

By the end of the workshop, I felt I had really turned a corner. The exercises we had done had helped excavate a lot of rubble lying in my heart. I felt like a veil had been lifted and I could see things more clearly than I had before. I felt inspired, reawakened, alive and ready to do whatever it took to start driving down the highway of life with purpose again. And, more importantly, have the guts to take the exit off the smooth road and start exploring the windier ones.

But then came the Q&A. I felt nervous, for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.

The moderator explained that there had been over 100 questions and they only had time for five. We got through the first three, and then the moderator said to the room, with nearly 1,000 people eagerly listening and one of the people I most admire in the world sitting on the stage with a microphone, “is Philippa from London here?”

It was one of the most petrifying moments of my life! But a moment that also managed to be humbling, uplifting and mind-blowing at the same time.

I raised my hand to identify myself, the moderator read out my question and Liz looked right at me. She truly has the presence of a spiritual teacher, where it feels like she is seeing right into your soul, willing you to find the answers that lie in there, that she can see clearly and that you probably know deep down are there but listening to them would mean having to do something. It would mean running out of excuses, which are the easiest things in the world to make.

To begin with, she smiled and said a few kind things to me and then said, “But I’m going to have to be a hard-ass on you. So, you didn’t get what you wanted. Welcome to the world.”

The room was silent. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. “So, what now?”  she asked.

She told me (well, the whole room, but it felt like it was just me!) about her journey, that her first book sold 6,000 copies and then Eat Pray Love sold 12 million. But the effort to keep going, after both perceived failure and success, is the same.

“What’s the alternative? Not trying? Giving up? You wouldn’t be here if that was what you wanted.”

She told me, and the room, that our only job is to serve our creativity. And for me, my only task is to let my next book be whatever it needs to be. Finding out what it wants to become – and what the next book wants to become, and the next, and the next - is the whole point of the journey.

She spoke a little about the creative journey, and how dangerous it is to get caught up in “the industry” and “making it”. She then read us the Celtic Prayer of Approach, which I now have pinned up by my desk.

I honor your Gods.
I drink at your well,
I bring an undefended heart to our meeting place,
I have no cherished outcomes,
I will not negotiate by withholding, and
I am not subject to disappointment.

“Write your next book,” Liz said, her gaze not leaving my face. “And write the next one, and the next one. Go forth and serve your creativity. You deserve it.”

After the thanks (from me) and applause, we moved on to the last question, but I must admit I was in a bit of a world of my own by then. I wiped the tears that had found their way out of my eyes away and sat there, so overwhelmed and profoundly moved. One of my heroes took the time to address me, stared me and my fear and entitlement down and said “get on with it.” They were words I really needed to hear and she said them with so much respect, love and conviction.

There, in a room full of strangers, confronted by my limiting beliefs and excuses, and Liz Gilbert fixing me in a loving but “come on, you’re better than this” gaze, I knew this was my turning point. I knew the inertia and fear of the last few years was over. I finally felt something shift. I felt light, for the first time in a long time. A line was drawn. I knew I wouldn’t keep giving in to fear.

I felt so vulnerable but I also felt so seen. And feeling seen was worth the pain of feeling vulnerable.

And even though it was a room full of people I didn't know, it felt so safe. So many people shared. People who have seen and known far harder things than I have. I was so moved and so very, very grateful.

The whole experience was such a gift. Not just the gift of having the next best thing to a direct line to Liz Gilbert, but the gift of being in a room of like-minded, friendly and open people who restored my faith that, in a world that seems constantly full of bad news, most of us just want to connect with others, and feel seen and heard. And if Liz Gilbert tells you to write your next book, you’re officially out of excuses!

Afterwards, I walked out into the balmy Saturday sunshine. As the Royal Wedding was on, most of central London was quiet. I walked to my favourite bookshop to keep my promise to Enchantment and bought two poetry books. I don’t write a lot of poetry myself any more [note from 2020: that’s changed!] but reading it feeds my soul like nothing else. Enchantment reminded me of that.

Two and a half years later, my next book isn’t finished yet but it’s being written. I actually don’t know what my next book will be - there are several possibilities - but I’m working, regularly and with a willing spirit, on them. I have no cherished outcomes.

I also now live a life where my creativity and writing are at the centre of it, the focus of every day. I feel fulfilled and happy. In 2018 Tom and I made a lot of changes and while not everything has gone to plan, we haven’t looked back. I know, without a doubt, that everything is unfolding exactly as it should.

In many ways, that was the best outcome from that day that I could have hoped for.

Thank you Liz Gilbert, and the Universe, for that turning point.

Love, Phil xxx

letters of our lives: to the book that changed me

This is my second letter in the Letters of our Lives project. Isabel’s is here.

"Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested." - Renaissance author Sir Francis Bacon

In a situation where you have a million and one choices, the standard advice is to go with the first one that comes to mind.

I am a writer, PhD student, historian, lover of words and speed reader so it follows that books are a necessary and joyful part of my life. Enter my home and you will see piles of them, everywhere. In every city I have lived, I have been a dedicated library user and patron of bookstores.

I can be fairly minimalist in other areas of life - happy to pare back to necessities in the kitchen, in my wardrobe - but with books? Never.

I honestly cannot remember a time when I could not read, and my activity of choice was not sitting somewhere with a book, or going to the library for more books, or writing my own books. Some books are like old friends, like houses I've lived in, like conversations I've had. There are memories and happiness associated with them. They are a wonderful way of showing you how you've changed, or how you haven't.

But to the book that changed me? That was a question. The answer came to me immediately, but I dismissed it at first. Surely there was another choice? Less….earnest? Something that hadn’t sold millions and millions of copies?

Every book I’ve read has changed me, made me a better writer, a more informed and curious human being. But when I really thought about it, I know that had I not read this book at the time that I did, I don’t know if I would have had the courage to keep going, to listen to my heart and to have learned that you have to make sacrifices to make your dreams come true.

Who knows where I might be right now, had anything been different.

So, this is the book that changed me.

See if you can spot the tile we had to Photoshop in because there are only two of them in a Scrabble set!

To The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho,

You came into my life, as I imagine you do with many others, in the midst of pain and bewilderment. It was a dark, cold winter, the darkest I had ever known.

I don’t recall how I came across you - perhaps a blog reader recommended you? Or perhaps I came across you in the bargain bin at Borders Melbourne Central, where I would go most days after work, prolonging my return home for as long as possible. My first marriage was over but it was early days and we were still living together, which was excruciating. Everything was so raw. I felt like I didn’t have any skin.

Or perhaps I saw you mentioned on a message board that I’d started trawling late at night, where other confused and heartbroken people holding pieces of their marriages in their hands gathered to vent and console. I never posted anything, I just read.

Wherever I found you, you ended up with me.

By the time I started reading you, however, things had changed a little. I had finally moved out and was getting used to a new home and identity. Everything was still in boxes. I had a different train, to the other side of Melbourne, to catch every evening after work. One particular evening, a freezing wet July night, I collapsed into a seat on the train and pulled you out of my bag.

It had been a long, low day. The feelings of grief and brokenness over my marriage ending had not dissipated, much to my confusion and disappointment. And they wouldn’t for some time. I was beginning to wonder whether ending things had been the right thing to do, given how much pain I was in. Should I have tried harder to work things out? Was he right, had it all been my fault? Had I been incredibly selfish, wanting to follow my heart and my dreams after so many years of putting them aside…for him?

As the train left the underground and out into the dark night, these lines pounced up from the page:

“Love never keeps you from pursuing your destiny. If it does, it isn’t true love.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. My mouth fell open, my eyes filled with tears, and everything around me froze in time, I didn’t notice anyone else on the train, I just stared into space in relief, tears rolling down my face. At that moment I realised that I had done the right thing. I was free. The life I had always wanted could finally begin. I had abandoned my dreams during my marriage and now it was over there were no more excuses.

Of course, things weren’t that simple - as you warned me they wouldn’t be.

“The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight.”

Other relationships I fell into were over as soon as I mentioned I had plans to travel and live overseas. I couldn’t seem to find anyone to just have a bit of fun with! I fought my habitual urges to suppress my own longings and needs to make other people happy - a pattern that had flourished in my marriage until its last few months (which was of course why it ended). Soon it became clear that I was never going to find what I was looking for where I was. I needed to pack my bags and go.

Life in Melbourne grew strange and lonely as I packed up my life and prepared to leave for my big adventure. Previously supportive friends turned nasty and distant. It was a strange cocktail of excitement, guilt and fear - that I was giving up everything in pursuit of the life I felt I was destined for, and it would all turn out to be a terrible mistake.

“The fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself… no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams.”

You were right about that.

I was put to the test so much during that time - my safety net was gone, any predictability and security my life had previously had were over, and I headed out into the unknown.

“It is the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.”

It’s been 13 years and I think about my solo travels across the USA, Canada, Europe and Asia nearly every day. Everything pursuing my destiny had cost me was worth every exhilarating second of that trip. I stayed with friends and blog readers everywhere I went, who welcomed me with open arms and became my family for however long I was in their city, be it two days or two weeks. I saw amazing things and did things I could never have even dreamed of. Every day was a new adventure. It was the happiest time of my life (up to that point at least!).

I must admit, I haven’t read you from start to finish for a while but maybe now, after finding a love that hasn’t made me compromise my dreams and returning home to Australia, is the perfect time for a reread.

I’m on a different kind of quest now but the lessons and wisdom I gleaned from you all those years ago remain the same.

That I must remain courageous, persistent and assertive in pursuit of my dreams, especially when I am tested. Being tested is part of the journey.

If I back down out of fear, I’ll be back where I started.

That my heart is alive and I must always listen to what it has to say.

But most importantly:

“Never stop dreaming.”

Thank you for the consolation and the wisdom, old friend. I don’t know where I might be now without you.

Love, Phil xx

What is the book that changed you?

don't worry about art

Source

We live in an era of enormous cynicism. Do not be fooled.

Don’t act for money. You’ll start to feel dead and bitter.

Don’t act for glory. You’ll start to feel dead, fat, and fearful.

We live in an era of enormous cynicism. Do not be fooled.

You can’t avoid all the pitfalls. There are lies you must tell. But experience the lie. See it as something dead and unconnected you clutch. And let it go.

Act from the depth of your feeling imagination. Act for celebration, for search, for grieving, for worship, to express that desolate sensation of wandering through the howling wilderness.

Don’t worry about Art.

Do these things, and it will be Art.

– John Patrick Shanley, preface to The Big Funk

learn to be hurt

“Oh God, those wasted years! If this is ever read by posterity, let posterity ponder on this: You cannot run away from life. If you try, life will only catch you in the end, and the longer you’ve been running the more it will hurt. Learn to be hurt as early as possible, welcome being hurt; face pain, humiliation and defeat in your teens; accept them, let them go through you, so that you cease to be afraid of them.”

A few years ago I read the diaries of Jean Lucey Pratt, a lifelong diarist who also contributed to the Mass Observation project. She was my age during the Second World War and her diaries, of course, focus on those events but also her daily life and concerns, her dreams, anxieties and longings which for the most part remained unchanged by the war and all its dramas and hardships.

Despite all the upheaval of wartime, Jean was still figuring out who she was and what she wanted, and was starting to panic about all the what-ifs, missed chances and the might-have-beens.

I absolutely loved this book but this passage particularly, because I too have learned this lesson from life. It’s not an easy lesson, but an essential one. Don't run from pain, humiliation or defeat. Face them. Persevere. You're stronger than you think.