Books piled on my floor

Although you would expect me to have books on a bedside table, I don't own a bedside table. Instead, my books are piled on the floor. And on a chair. And in my sock drawer.

But moving right along...

For Xmas, Powell gave me Eat, love, pray by Liz Gilbert. I was a little hesitant about reading it because I wasn't in any mood to read the *uplifting* story of some middle-aged woman who, following a divorce, travels the world in search of meaning and spends relentless chapters describing how yoga brings her closer to understanding the bliss of motherhood.

That's not what was printed on the back, mind you. It's just that the hype and the flowery cover and the visit to Oprah converged in my tiny, cynical mind to conjecture this impression.

Without delving too much into the irony of my making such a snap judgment about a book that pursues the Buddhist precepts of non-judgment and self-compassion, let's just say that I was mistaken.

Turns out, Liz Gilbert and I have a lot in common - well, at least at the beginning/mid of her journey. Writer. Budding yogi. Big fan of the B. Stymied by the relationship thing. Loves food, etc. I immediately fell into the story and thoroughly enjoyed the book. Even underlined stuff.

So don't be scared by reviews that crow "a delightful romp" - it's worth reading. (I know, I know, non-judgment, I'm working on it).

Favourite excerpt: It's all for the best, I know it is. I'm choosing happiness over suffering, I know I am. I'm making space for the unknown future to fill up my life with yet-to-come surprises.

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The other book - Hardcore Zen by Brad Warner - I picked up on the weekend. Same spiritual journey towards Buddhism, same highly developed sense of humour, same exploration of life's dark underbelly and how to transform it... just told from the point of view of a punk rocker.

No clouds or lotus flowers or tree hugging. This is blunt, yet accessible writing that gets to the core of what it means to embrace Buddhism in our lost, modern age. Warner, it must also be noted, maintains both his punk persona and his Buddhist beliefs. It's not an either/or situation and it's entirely believable.

Read it for the unique opportunity to learn about the Ohio punk scene during the 1980s - vomiting in back alleys and all - and ultimately understand that all of us - no matter how tight our jeans are - can genuinely counter the suffering we see around us with open hearts.

The only weird side effect of reading Warner's book is that (inexplicably) I've had "Punk Rock Girl" by Dead Milkmen stuck in my head almost non-stop for two days.

Favourite excerpt (so far anyway): The truth won't be what you imagined. It won't even be close.