Here I sit, one week after Mary Pipher shared her life's experiences with us at a reading of Seeking Peace--and our atmosphere still resonates with her
presence.
In that week I've seen children unable to walk away from a newly discovered book, adults cuddling little ones on their laps, and young people engaged in earnest conversations, cups of coffee sitting forgotten at arm's length next to a sprig of lilac.
I've watched people serve soup and bread to a growing community. I've witnessed successful events, and others that disappointed their organizers in turnout.
Quiet rain has left its spattered mark on dusty outdoor tables and chairs, as Mary's gentle words have left their mark on me.
Some 80 of us sat and stood, drinking in Mary's wisdom, her special blend of emotional human spirit and trained analyst feeding our understanding of the world we make our home.
"We are such yearning organisms." Toward the book's end, she writes these words. In them I relive an experience from 1984, when I accompanied an oboist in performing a composition entitled "Sehnsucht" (German for yearning). I remember practicing the composition, the intensity of my own yearning overwhelming me. Is this, in part, what our quiet oracle is reminding us to embrace?
In the previous chapter, Dr. Pipher talked about hiking to Harney Peak, a sacred place famously documented by John Neihardt as the summit where Black Elk sought the Great Father's evaluation of his life.
As I reread her words a week later, the hike seems to be a metaphor for Mary's life of yearning, her journey toward self-acceptance. Throughout the book I'm struck by unexpected parallels and by the awareness of just how hard it has become to remain aware of the world around us. Irony, something Mary frequently notes.
Books act as guides, influence our thoughts, become our friends. So much living takes place at Indigo Bridge Books, from the children who gather for story times to professionals huddled to discuss burning ideas for projects.
I am grateful for the language which expresses human experience in both written form and oral exchange, seasoned by coffee's aroma. The printed version remains with me, continuing to pique new thoughts as I age. Cheese, wine, our thoughts--they all acquire new character as chronological time passes, and we are left with special moments, special readings etched into our memories.
So, like Mary's words that linger in the air, let books continue to resonate in you. And thank you, Mary Pipher, for treating us to "a symphony of moments" last week.