Sojourner's Cerebrations

just another sojourner... these feet are not my own, these hands are merely just on loan, they were made to be used and make love known, a fruit of a seed once long ago sown... and though the sojourner carries on as the wind is blown, she knows that she's never ever ever alone.

Sunday, December 30, 2007















Currently I am juggling several different books: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen of course. Nope, I don't remember loving her quite as much in my younger years but then again my appreciation for reading was not great. A dull day was a day spent reading I once thought. But now I find much enjoyment in a good book when I am able to commandeer moments of solitude. Life in Louisiana affords much such time, (that is, when silly little nieces resolve to slumber). Not only does Jane Austen possess an astonishing quality for interlacing beautiful language with ordinary living, she captures her audience with touches of suspense, observable to those with an eye for literary brilliance.... and I Love It. I am also reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert which is a tremendous portrayal of the contemporary search for fulfillment. What is it that will satisfy the burning and conflicting desires from deep recesses within one's soul? Are they unquenchable? I think I would feel exceedingly quenched with a paid vacation to Italy, India, and Indonesia.... The book has been a best seller among a vastly feminine audience and supposedly so, a life-changer. As a word of caution, there is some profanity and liberal manner that may be disagreeable to more reserved readers. Consequently, those of a conservative nature may not take as kindly to the postmodern characteristic of the piece. This one is quite the intrigue for me, although I confess I have lately been distracted from it. The newest additions and distractions to my library have been written by Paul Coelho. It was the journey of a young Shepard who traveled across the world to discover his treasure and calling right back in the place he first began that made a truly profound impression on me. The Alchemist is a book worth reading more than once and with a journal in arms length. The others, I have yet to pursue and peruse. In each of these mentioned works, there are coincidental coinciding interests and themes. There usually are, and one in particular is one that cannot be denied as eternally resounding throughout all of humanity...

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