Being home sick today sucked, but at least I got to travel to India.

I started to re-read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert last week, in part due to anxious anticipation for the movie, and in part to see how I would react to it at this point in my life, here, on my journey towards 40. It is always so interesting, after all, to see how books affect us in different ways at different points in our lives. I recall reading the book Operating Instructions, A Journal of My Son's First Year by Anne Lamott, just as I was coming out of what I would now call a mild postpartum depression after Devin's birth. The book SPOKE to me then, but re-reading it after Gwynn's birth, which was markedly different, easier, and, quite frankly less of a life upheaval than a first child's birth ever could have been, I thought, "Woah, I was DARK!" I am having a less drastic reacation to Elizabeth's book, but am seeing changes in myself, nonetheless.

So much has hit me as I have read, and I am thankful that I write in and underline and dogear my books to no end, because on this return journey, not only do I remember some parts vividly, others not so, but I also have many moments of reading my own notes in the margin, my own sidebar conversation with Liz, from years ago, and now the conversation can go on, deepen, and help me to gain more insight on my journey through life.

Holy crap, that was ONE SENTENCE, and you know what? I am just going to keep it that way! Is that growth or WHAT? Perfection doesn't exist, but self acceptance does, and I accept myself, grammatical flaws and all. That is true peace. Thanks Liz, for your insight, that in turn has helped me to grow.