“On an International Note: I have noticed that clutter zones vary from country to country. In Australia, as an example, people tend to have garages or storage areas under the house, so this is where they tend to put their clutter. In England, attics and basements are a favourite. In Ireland, they love to fill sheds and outhouses behind the house. And Americans just stash it EVERYWHERE! “ (Page 84)

This is a practical little book full of advice about and tips for reducing clutter, from a Feng Shui perspective. It’s a small book (so as not to create more clutter!) and an easy read – I finished it within a day.

The author, Karen Kingston, offers some good motivations for letting go of clutter using the principles of Feng Shui. According to this philosophy, clutter can create energy blocks in a living space. By clearing the space, the energy flows more naturally. According to the author, this can have a profound effect on your life – from both a practical perspective and a more esoteric one.

The greatest strengths of this book are the chapters on the reasons for clutter – why we collect things, why we keep them and why we can’t let go of clutter – and the step-by-step guidance for clearing clutter.

I also got a kick out of the British expressions throughout the book – the author is from the U.K. and the book was published there (I think it’s time for a clear-up!)

The book would have been stronger if there had been a better explanation of Feng Shui. To truly benefit from and understand the author’s advice, it’s probably necessary to read supplementary material.

“But the authorities continued to read our names from the old lists. A name would be read out, there would be no reply, then prisoners would shout back, “Died of starvation.” The senior Chinese officers knew that something was wrong but could not admit it. We were warned that we were not allowed to refer to death by starvation. How could anyone starve in a socialist society? It was a great embarrassment for the Chinese. The names were read out again. Long silences followed the names of the dead. Officers waited for a response, scanning the crowd, but none came. Then someone answered, “U-chi log-la don-pa-re,” which means “The breath left him.” The Chinese officers seemed happy with this response, because it implied no responsibility on the part of the new socialist society. So, as the roll call went on, whenever they read out the name of someone who had died, we simply replied, “The breath left him.” “ (Page 84)

This book is moving and heartbreaking. Palden Gyatso, a Tibetan Buddhist monk, was held prisoner by Chinese authorities in Tibet for 30 years in prisons and labour camps. He tells his story clearly, but not without emotion – during that time, he was frequently beaten and tortured and he witnessed the brutalisation of friends and fellow monks.

As political conditions in China changed, treatment of prisoners and ordinary Tibetans worsened. He documents these changes, noting how power shifts in china affected the people of Tibet. Palden Gyatso’s family suffered greatly under the communist regime. During famine, the starving children of farmers approached inmates of the labour camps, begging for food. Prisoners always sensed when change was to come, by the way their captors treated them and the conditions in prison varied.

But through it all, the prisoners kept their reverence for the Dalai Lama and their hopes for a free Tibet alive. During his time as a prisoner, Palden Gyatso rebelled against his captors, planned escapes, made political posters and helped other prisoners. He quietly chanted prayers he had learned as a monk. As the years passed, young Tibetans took up the cause and courageously protested against the Chinese.

It was truly humbling to know that this man, who spent his youth from age 10 onwards dedicating the merits of his spiritual practice to all beings, spent much of his life being abused and tortured by his captors. After his escape, he went to Dharamsala, India was to tell his story to the Dalai Lama, an experience he describes as ‘extraordinary.’ He then visted a temple and offered a prayer that ‘all should be released from suffering.’

Upon his release in 1992, Palden Gyatso escaped to Nepal with the help of friends in Lhasa. His hope in leaving Tibet was to expose the true nature of Chinese rule in Tibet, including the starvation, torture and subjugation of the Tibetan people. He now travels the world bringing his story to all who will listen and working towards the freedom of Tibet.

This is a compelling and interesting book, and easy read and thoroughly absorbing. It’s a must-read for anyone who is interested in the situation in Tibet.

Palden Gyatso has a website:
http://www.paldengyatso.com

For more information on how to help the people of Tibet:
http://www.rangzen.org/

_“To walk a sacred path is to discover our inner sacred space: that core of feeling that is waiting to have life breathed back into it through symbols, archetypal forms like the labyrinth, rituals, stories and myths. Understanding the invisible world, the world of patterns and process, opens us up to the movement of the spirit.”
_ (Page 15)

I’ve long had an interest in labyrinths and I’m fortunate enough to live in a city that has two permanent and two beachstone labyrinths. I hoped this book would give me a deeper insight into the history and sacred geometry of labyrinths.

The first chapter was very promising. In particular, I enjoyed the story about the author and her posse covertly moving chairs in the Chartes cathedral in order to walk the labyrinth. But the book then gets very broad in its scope and it starts meandering.

It occasionally meanders in some very interesting directions and at times I was throughly absorbed (in particular, the author does an excellent job of exploring the spiritual meaning of the labyrinth), but often I was bored, confused or mystified. I don’t think the content was above my head so much as very poorly organised. Glancing back through the chapter titles, I couldn’t even begin to tell you what each chapter was actually about – not a good sign in a non-fiction book.

The things I’d hoped to learn – some history, different types of labyrinths, the meaning of the labyrinth and the geometry behind it – were not in this book. Even worse, one of the illustrations in the book depicting an labyrinth had errors (and incorrect number of cusps and spires).

Occasionally, a tidbit would pop up and I would get very excited…then the meandering would begin again. This book was not a labyrinth – it was more like a maze, and I got lost.

“My neighbors and teachers, friends and family, circled an arbitrary spot no far from where I’d been killed. My father, sister and brother heard the singing again once they were outside. Everything in my father leaned and pitched toward the warmth and light. h wanted so badly to hae me remembered in teh mind and hearts of everyone. I knew something as I watched: almost everyone was saying goodbye to me.” (Page 209)

Susie Salmon is 14 years old when she’s murdered by a neighbourhood pedophile. From her own version of heaven, she watches over her home and family. Her siblings and friends grow up, her killer goes on to kill again and Susie witnesses it all, narrating with love and a gentle humour about the life she left behind.

This is a fascinating and absorbing book. The opening scene of Susie’s rape and murder is disturbing, but it’s not too overwhelming because the story is told calmy and factually, in short segments, by Susie herself. It sets the scene and emotional context for the rest of the book.

The story flows well. The characters are complex. In fact, sometimes they didn’t seem believable (in particular, Susie’s mother seems odd and I wish the author had spent more time exploring her particular perspective).

It’s bittersweet, watching Susie watch life go on without her. And ‘heaven’ is a fascinating place. It’s a good read.

“Let’s examine the usefulness of compassion and a good heart in daily life. If we are in a good mood when we get up in the morning, if there is a warm-hearted feeling within, authomatically our inner door is opened for that day. Even should an unfriendly person happen along, we would not experience much disturbance and might even manage to say something nice to that person. We could chat with that not-so-friendly person and perhaps even have a meaningful conversation. Once we create a friendly and positive atmosphere, it automatically helps to reduce fear and insecurity. In this way we can easily make more friends and create more smiles.” (Page 43)

I like the Dalai Lama’s books because they are written clearly and simply and from a place of great personal honesty. His holiness writes these books because he sincerely hopes that the reader will find them useful. The books are written and structured with this in mind.

In this lovely little book (109 pages), the Dalai Lama talks about compassion. He defines it, places it in context to spirituality, day-to-day living, and greater world issues. He provides a brief, clear overview of Buddhism. He also discusses Shantideva’s ‘Guide to the Boddhisattva’s Way of Life’ and offers suggestions for ways that we can ‘put the happiness of others before our own’ as we move through our daily lives. In the last chapter, the Dalia Lama shares twelfth century master Langri Tangpa’s ‘Eight Verses for Training the Mind’ along with commentary to help the reader understand this teaching.

One of the things I really enjoyed about this book was the clear links made to the concerns of everyday living, our interactions with people and our work. His Holiness makes it clear that the spiritual life is not about silently meditating in a cave for 50 years. Each one of us has the power and potential to live our lives in a deeply spiritual way, regardless of our nationality or religious background. This book provides tools that will help the reader along that path.

“Inside, I too was burning. There was something in my chest, what felt like grief and pain at the same time. I was unsettled deep inside, in my veins, in my limbs, in the fibers lacing around my ribs and connecting to my lungs.” (Page 43)

Author Elizabeth Kadetsky offers a personal narrative that also tells the story of B.K.S. Iyengar and the journey of the yoga tradition to the West. It’s a well-written and engaging book that mixes just enough of Kedetsky’s own story to keep things interesting while remaining true to the book’s intent.

There were definitely things to like about the book. I learned a lot about the background and life of yoga master B.K.S. Iyengar. The ‘behind-the-scenes’ peek at his Yoga Institute in Pune was intriguing. Kadetsky is a good writer. The narrative brings the reader along, walking the halls, peeking in rooms and dark corners, scanning titles in the library. It’s like a keyhole into a fascinating hidden world. Her descriptions of the people are vivid and honest. The author has a gift for revealing the hidden weaknesses of people in a sensitive way that bring the reader closer, allows for a sort of intimacy.

The author doesn’t hesitate to turn this scrutiny on herself. She reveals her personal history of family conflicts, overwork and anorexia and shares her thoughts about how yoga helped her to delve into her own darkness and emerge triumphant. When faced with contradictions between her work as a journalist versus her role as a yoga student, she’s honest and upfront, clearly delineating the boundaries and where she crosses the line. These moments are some of the most fascinating in the book.

For anyone who’s been in the yoga community for a number of years, this book is fun for it’s gossip value. It’s like sitting down with a group of fellow yoga teachers over coffee and gabbing about who’s doing what and teaching where. Two of my teachers studied with Iyengar in India, so I had already heard the stories, but they were one-dimensional. It was fun to hear another perspective.

I was bothered by a few aspects of the book. The author gives a lot of historical background on the development of the yoga tradition in the West – bascially, in the United States. In the book, she argues that yoga is really a modern tradition and questions those who claim a 5000 year history.

This is where it gets tricky. Yoga is defined very differently in the US vs. India and in your neighbourhood gym vs. an ashram. Yoga in the modern, western sense is a series of physical postures which may or many not be accompanied by breathing exercises and meditation. Yoga in the Indian sense is a purely philosophical system. The physical postures (asana), breathing exercises (pranayama) and even meditation, are only small aspects of the system as a whole. Yoga Philosophy has its roots in the Vedas, written nearly 5000 years ago. Hatha yoga, Astanga yoga, Bikram yoga, Kundalini yoga, Anusara yoga, Vini yoga, Sivananda yoga ( and the list goes on; I know I’ve probably forgetten at least 5 yogas) are all fairly modern interpretations of the physical practice of yoga, referred to as ‘Asana’ in Patanjali’s yoga sutra.

The author doesn’t make this distinction, which can leave the reader with the impression that yoga is nothing more than a series postures that were included in a few books in the 19th century and fleshed out in the 20th. The book seems to imply that masters such as Iyengar and Pattabhi Jois (the guru of Astanga yoga in Mysore, India) are simply good businessmen who took an idea and marketed the hell out of it. She stops just short of saying that yoga is a big fake.

With her access to Iyengar, his writings and his entire library of Yoga Philosophy, I’m surprised that the author didn’t at least give a nod to yoga’s philosophical roots. I’m particularly distressed because many people who might not know very much about yoga (yoga the philsophy and yoga the system of physical postures) may get a skewed idea of its importance and meaning. It’s troubling omission and it prevents me from recommending this book whole-heartedly.

“The next day my friend reported that her grandmother had been bound at the age of four because she came from a noble family. “Was she upset when you asked about her feet?” I inquired.

_“No, she was very excited. She said no one in the family had once asked her about them. Then she took me into her room and showed me her secret – a beautiful pair of little shoes all covered her pearls. The were her burial shoes she made before Liberation (1949) and she had them hidden away ever since” _ (page 175-176)

This is a well-written and informative book, but what really makes it special is the author’s keen personal enthusiasm for the subject matter. There is nothing dry about this book. I felt like Beverly Jackson was sitting in my living room showing me her Lotus Shoe collection and telling me the stories. The book is large and filled with gorgeous color photographs of the shoes.

Each chapter is prefaced by a short section telling the story of an imaginary Chinese girl named ‘Phoenix Treasure.’ Her story introduces the customs and cultural traditions in a lively and personal way. The author goes on to provide history, details and photographs to illustrate the history and practice of footbinding. She successfully negotiates a delicate balance: she’s thorough without being longwinded.

The book is clear and detailed. Every question I had about foot binding was answered and then some. The author provides photographs of women with bound feet and bright colour images of Loutus Shoes, mostly from her own collection. She’s respectful of foot binding as a cultural practice and obviously went to great lengths to gather first-person accounts from Chinese women with bound feet. Some of her information came from interviews with missionaries – these accounts are fascinating. The author compares foot binding with other body modification practices and talks about cultural relativity.

She provides less history than other books, but more than makes up for it in her description of foot binding in the Chinese theatre and amoung prostitutes and concubines. I enjoyed this book very much. For the average reader, this is the best book available that clearly describes the culture and practice of foot-binding, and its eventual decline.

The last chapter, with stories of her personal encounters with bound women in China was written with warmth and honesty. Rather than merely collecting these shoes, Beverly Jackson sought to fully understand the culture and the people in it. That personal touch makes this book particularly memorable.

“As a crucial rite of passage for the daughter and a central event for the women’s community, the binding of feet was rich in spiritual and religious meanings. To begin with, the day to begin binding had to be selected with care. Almanacs specifiying auspicious days for the first binding can be found as early as the sixteenth century. In practice, the day and rituals varied a great deal from region to region, but the women’s desire for perfect feet and the great length to which they were willing to go to achieve them, was universal.” (page 63)

The book ‘Snow Flower and the Secret Fan’ spurred my interest in Chinese foot binding. This is one of two books I found on the subject. The author, Dorothy Ko, is a professor of history and this book reflects a more academic perspective. This richly illustrated book focused on the shoes – in fact, the volume was a companion to an exhibit at the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto.

The development of the practice is explored in great detail and the cultural variations between regions are described. The many differences between styles of lotus shoes (shoes made especially for bound feet) are presented clearly, using photographs and maps.

The actual practice of footbinding is layed out in great detail, including a diagram illustrating how the feet were actually bound. This book has excellent historical photographs of women with bound feet, including a few rare images of the feet without bindings.

The author was respectful of footbinding as a cultural tradition, but didn’t mince words when describing the pain and disfigurement it caused women. She carefully outlined the cultural conditions that led to the practice and allowed the reader to draw her own conclusions.

Overall, I found the book very comprehensive and detailed. Parts of it were a bit dry; read the good parts, skim the rest. Props to the author for providing a few scale photographs of Lotus Shoes and for the section explaining how the shoes themselves provided an optical illusion of small feet.

“When you begin to live your life in a way that allows your higher nature to unfold, door after door will open to you.” (page 14)

Tantra yoga is frequently misrepresented as the ‘yoga of sex.’ This book provides a broad overview of Tantra, including physical postures, lifestyle and philsophy. Tantra is not limited to sexual union, rather, it’s the ‘yoga of everything.’ The author describes how the ideals of Tantra Yoga are applicable to our day-to-day lives and relationships.

The section on physical postures (Hatha Yoga) was the weakest part of the book. The postures are little more than basic stretches. The Sanskrit names and other basic information (contraindications, benefits) were not provided. The information on a dance form called ‘Kaoshikii’ was interesting (this dance was invented by Shrii Shrii A’nandamu’rti in 1978, but I’d never heard of it before).

The true strength of this book was the in-depth description of the Yamas and Niyamas, commonly known from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. Each Yama and Niyama was described in detail, with clear applications to daily living. A mantra/affirmation was included along with each one. Although I found the author’s interpretation of the Sanskrit words a bit far out, the presentation – clear and accessible to the western reader – was excellent.

The book was well-written and organised. For most readers interested in this topic, it’s worth a look. It definitely dispells all of the negative sterotypes around Tantra.

“I am still learning about love. I thought I understood it – not just mother love, but the love for one’s parents, for one’s husband, and for one’s laotong. I’ve experienced the other types of love – pity love, respectful love and gratitude love. But looking at our secret fan with its messages written between Snow Flower and me over many years, I see that I didn’t value the most important love – deep-heart love.” (page 5)

This novel was riveting from start to finish. Even the author’s notes and acknowledgements at the end held me spellbound. Each journey into this book captured me completely – it was like entering a different world. I finished it in a matter of days.

The novel tells the story of two women in rural 19th century China, an era when women are considered the property of their husbands, concubines are commen and small girls have their feet bound and broken in order to cultivate the ‘golden lilies’ – tiny feet – required for a good marriage match.

One survival strategy is a thousand-year-old written language called ‘Nu Shu,’ known only amongst women. Lily is the daugher of a farmer, but her Aunt, who has married into the family, knows this secret written code and teaches it to her neice.

It’s this knowledge, along with her perfect ‘golden lilies’ that leads a matchmaker to select Lily as a ‘laotong’ – translated as ‘old same’ – for her neice, a girl from a wealthy family. ‘Old Sames’ are lifelong friends, companions who are committed to one another almost like a marriage. A laotong friendship is a lifelong bond, sustaining women through childhood, marriage, old age and death.

This novel explores the laotong relationship between Lily and her ‘old same,’ Snow Flower. It’s a lovely story with an intricate and fascinating plot. The process of footbinding is carefully and painfully described – I found it both fascinating and horrifying. It intrigued me enough that I searched for more information on the Internet. I’ve become so intrigued by this custom that I’ve borrowed a book about it from the library, to learn more.

The author travelled to China to research ‘nu shu’ and she weaves her knowlege of this tradition into the book seamlessly. As I read the story, I felt like a ‘fly on the wall,’ an anthropologist observing this culture and its traditions through the eyes of the women.

The characters are vibrant and believable. The story held my interest. The main character dropped small hints in every chapter that kept me turning the pages until the last page. The book was interesting, not only for the good writing and great story-telling, but I learned a lot about the lives of Chinese women during that time period. It’s rare that a fictional story inspired me to read non-fiction to learn more – this one did.

Fabulous! I recommend it!