It feels only fitting, that my day-before-Thanksgiving blog post features Anne Lamott’s Somehow: Thoughts on Love.

The book was a birthday gift, given to me by one of my closest friends. I don’t know how you manage your books, but most of the time, the books that are most recently added to my want-to-read shelves (whether they be library books, or gifts, or books I bought or picked up at a Little Free Library), I don’t immediately read. When I select a book to read, it’s a bit like shopping from my own little library. And not until a few weeks ago, did I select Anne Lamott’s most recent nonfiction book.

My copy is full of sticky notes. This is a beautiful book, and if you enjoy Anne Lamott, I think it’s safe to say you will love this special collection.

Some of my sticky notes were placed because of the subject matter, because I found something Ms. Lamott wrote to be so true or touching. Other sticky notes were placed because I truly was amazed by the way she combined words; I don’t think anyone but Anne Lamott could have constructed some of these sentences. 

Here are just a few of my favorite passages:

“Love is caring, affection, and friendliness, of course, compassion and a generous heart. It is also some kind of energy or vibration, because everything is — the same stuff moving at different speeds, from glaciers to six-year-old boys.
“I wish the movement of love in our lives more closely resembled the grace of a ballerina, but no, love mainly tromps and plops, falls over and tip-toes through our lives.
“Love looks like us, and that can be a little daunting. Love is why we are here at all, on the couch and in the world with a heart for the common good, why we have hope, and a lifeline when we don’t.” 

“Usually grace in its guise as spiritual WD-40 gets in and loosens the tight knot that has formed in the tangled gold chain of my best thinking.”

“The reason I was nobody’s priority was that I wasn’t my own and never had been. It was time to lavish on myself the kind of focused care and affection I shone on everyone else.”

“Life becomes a lava lamp of memories of happier and sadder times, of what might have been, and of a fearful future, accompanied by the burbling sound of advancing time, of which one friend has almost run out, and of which I will too someday (supposedly).” 

“I have stated elsewhere that hope is believing this one thing: that love is bigger than any grim, bleak shit anyone can throw at us. And I believe.”

“If I can get word to my grandson from the other side when I am gone, I will whisper to him when he is in trouble to make a gratitude list – no snakes in the room, yay! – then do his chores, be kind to himself, be of service, get outside, and breathe. This is the launch code when under attack: gratitude, chores, chocolate, service, breath, nature.” 

“Love is how hope takes flight, in swamps and barren fields, arising in different frequencies, blending the way sound vibrations of different pitches organize music. With my failing hearing in our failing world, I try to listen for this song underneath the river of incoming date and my pinball machine mind and I find that it is always playing.” 

“Attics are so spooky, and I had to remind myself that courage is fear that has said it’s prayers.” 

“The sky takes you out into the cosmos, reminding you that you are very tiny but can experience celestial wonders and oceans of love here, even just slogging along together beneath a perfectly ordinary sky.”

Friends, tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the United States. Without a doubt, it can be a holiday with complicated emotions. To all my reader friends, those in the U.S. and those abroad, know that I am so very thankful you’re here, reading my words each week. Thank you!

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.