Reading is a solitary activity. There are ways to make it less solitary such as book groups and, I suppose, even audio books. But technically, it is a solitary activity. I’m not a student of the science or art of reading, I don’t know what happens in the brain during the process, and I’m too lazy (at this minute) to research it. I am paying some attention – at least in this moment I am – to what’s going on in my brain as I read. For one, there is a voice. I’m not reading aloud, but there’s still a voice. I can hear it. It pronounces the words. Sometimes it pauses and makes comments or pauses to think – it’s like being at a movie with a friend and making jokes at the bad acting or saying I bet x is gonna happen next or whatever people say at the movies (I haven’t gone in over 15 years). The commentary as I read is a constant searching for my place in the text and an attempt to assimilate with the text. “Where do I fit in? Have I felt this before? How do I relate? I don’t relate to that at all. Do I seem this smug? That’s a smart, unique, funny, clever, brilliant… way to say that.” Though it’s more personal and specific than those general questions.
I just finished a few chapters in Eat, Pray, Love. In these chapters, the author, Elizabeth Gilbert, is at an Ashram in India and has had a trance-like communication with god type of experience. The fallout is that she is obsessing over her divorce and obsessing even more so over a man she loved. She’s been obsessing over this man for a year. This is starting to feel familiar and I think I see where I might fit in in the text. The last chapter I read has her talking with a big guy from Texas who is a bit out of place at the Ashram – someone who I imagine looks and sounds like Sam Elliott. (Quick aside on how amazing google is. I typed in “cowboy actor older mustache” and the first result was Sam Elliott complete with picture. It was exactly who I was thinking of). Gilbert is telling her Texas friend that she’s sure the guy was her soul mate. And her friend is responding that he probably was and that were not meant to spend our lives with our soul mates – we wouldn’t survive – it’s too intense. He suggests that our soul mates are supposed to be mirrors that prod us on to a better version of our self and then go away. I immediately began thinking of my ex-fiancee and how I’ve felt that she was my soul mate (a concept I didn’t really believe in until I met her). I was identifying with what was going on in the book. More accurately, I was identifying with the author’s insistence of holding on to what was meant to be…. Ever since I started dating and saw how much I grew just by seeing myself through someone else’s eyes, I’ve been hooked on the idea that people are mirrors. And people who are good for us – those really special connections will bring out the best and worst in us. I’m not convinced by Big Tex’s argument that you can’t have a lifetime of that type of growth with someone else.
And yes, I recognize the irony of having someone who felt a whole lot like a soulmate come in to my life, shake things up, and who’s leaving opened my mind and heart to a different way of being while I sit here and reject the philosophy of Richard from Texas:
“But I really loved him.”
“Big deal. So you fell in love with someone. Don’t you see what happened? This guy touched a place in your heart deeper than you thought you were capable of reaching. I mean you got zapped kiddo…”
“And please don’t laugh at me now, but I think the reason it’s so hard for me to get over this guy is because I seriously believed David was my soul mate.”
“He probably was. Your problem is you don’t understand what that word means. People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come in to your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it.
As I finished the chapter, as often happens, I wanted to share it – mostly with my ex-fiancee. I wanted to know if she felt this way. At the same time, I paused and remembered who originally owned this book – my ex-wife. Here I am reading (and still resisting Gilbert as an sympathetic author) and I’m wondering did my ex-wife identify with any of this? Where was she on her spiritual journey through school, through parenthood, through our marriage? We didn’t talk about these things – a missed opportunity for sure. When you read and identify, you go through mini (or major) transformations. You have your ideas challenged or validated. How could she read about someone else’s journey, her divorce, her trip though Italy and not reflect back on her own life, marriage, trip to Italy and not want to talk about it with me? I’m not asking any of these questions in a condemning or blaming way. I’m not asking out of disapproving shock “how could she… wag finger…” – if anything, I’m thinking in a sympathetic way. I’m wondering if she felt really alone as she read this and maybe felt unable to share or maybe didn’t want to share?
And maybe that’s not how or why my ex-wife reads. Maybe she extracts stories differently. Certainly, we all extract different things and meanings from what we read. Stories have different resonances. I know as I read books – or at least the last few I’ve read, I’ve wanted to go over certain sections again. I’ve found myself reading, identifying, wanting to share, and wanting to internalize.
I don’t know if I’ve shared a reading experience with another person since… well, not quite sure when. My ex-fiancee and I exchanged a few books early on, but we weren’t reading them together. For Christmas she bought two copies of a book for us to read together. I loved the idea. We never got around to a discussion – mostly because I’m a slow reader and I’m easily distracted. I might read a few chapters one day and then not pick the book up for a week. Like a lot of things, I wish we had gotten through it together. Like a lot of things, life got in the way. Like a lot of things, we probably should have made time for it. Like a lot of things, I’m now working on developing those skills on my own as part of my be the person I wish to find approach to life. A road I might not have taken were it not for… a soul mate?