Of the twenty three books I completed reading in 2014, three were nonfiction. That is well above average for me, as most the nonfiction I read is magazine or newspaper articles. I seldom complete reading nonfiction books, although I will pick them up and browse, reading a paragraph here and occasionally a full chapter. But it was a year of reflection for me, and those books I completed were ones which made me think and reflect on life and friendship.
I started reading Change Your Brain, Change Your Life by Daniel G Amen four years ago on the recommendation of my bishop, and finally finished it early this year. Did it "change my life"? Well, not by itself. But it did encourage me to look at things differently than I had, and helped me to understand things in ways I hadn't understood them before. It is a book about brain chemistry, how the different aspects of the brain should work and how they actually do, when not being adversely altered by physical trauma, injury, poor nutrition, abuse, or either substance or behavioral addictions. For the most part, it is written for the layman, only occasionally growing too clinical. Dr. Amen begins the book by describing the different systems of the brain: the limbic system, the basal ganglia, the prefrontal cortex, the cingulate system, the temporal lobes, what they do, and what happens to you when any of those systems are over or under stimulated. Sometimes these systems overlap, so it could be one or more system out of whack causing a particular problem of anxiety, anger, depression, or destructive thought patterns or behaviors. Case studies of his patients are used as examples, and "prescriptions" are given: medicinal, nutritional, and thought exercises, to help heal your self, as well as when to seek professional help. It all makes for an interesting read. The major premise is this: You are not stuck with the brain you were born with, nor are you stuck with the brain you have been given through injury or abuse or addiction. It is, for the most part, a positive message: that you are in charge, no matter how difficult it seems, and you can change.
Madeleine L'Engle has long been one of my favorite fiction authors, and had read excerpts from a number of her books on religion and her Crosswicks journals, but had never read one cover to cover. This spring I picked up The Rock That Is Higher: Story As Truth. She wrote the book following a car accident in 1991, and she talks about the power of story in our lives. Using examples of well known literature, examples from her own works, and many examples from the scriptures, she illustrates how story shapes and affects our lives, how it shapes, molds, transforms our lives. She talks about how stories are true even if not necessarily factual. I loved this book. I loved it for its discussion of religious and spiritual principles, although I did not always agree with her conclusions. And I loved it for something I saw in the narrative, which I did not see mentioned in any of the reviews I read of the book after reading the book itself: it was, for me, an examination of the creative process. And for that reason I would recommend it to any writer or artist, singer, painter - anyone wanting to give their creative juices a few extra volts.
A Grief Observed was written by C. S. Lewis following the death of his wife, when he had a severe crisis of faith and experienced crushing doubt about everything he held dear. It is a short book, a mere 76 pages in the edition I read, but it packs a powerful punch. Being originally a journal not intended for publication (only years later did he decide the reflections he made during his journey might help others), there is no sugar coating in his thoughts. At times he rails against God, and that might make some readers uncomfortable. We are taught, if not from the pulpit then at least by friends, family and even society, not to doubt our faith, not to question it. But question he did, decry it he did, lambaste it he did. And then, honestly examine it he did, recognizing how his previous faith had been, in his own words, a house of cards. I had half-read it years earlier, a quick perusal before turning it over to a friend who had lost a loved one. I picked it up this year, reasoning that there are other things we grieve over than the death of loved ones, and hoping it would bring me some measure of peace. It did just that. It brought me a great deal of peace and comfort, and although I was not looking for it (or I might chickened out and not read it), brought me to an examination of my own faith, which I hadn't realized I was beginning to doubt. And it earned a spot on my "favorites" bookshelf, something which doesn't often happen with nonfiction.
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