Bookish Osmosis (Some Imagination Required)

Bookish Osmosis

os·mo·sis –  äzˈmōsəs / Gradual or unconscious assimilation … ideas, knowledge, etc …
Examples;

“What she knows of the blue-blood set she learned not through birthright, not even through wealth, but  through osmosis.”

He never studies but learns by osmosis.”  

“Living in Paris, he learned French slang by osmosis.”

Yes.  I have the right word, osmosis.  Bookish osmosis brings words, ideas, sentences into the heart and mind, from books, held close (my theory).  I am nudged in my psyche and my passion, when I think of writers who may have experienced bookish osmosis:  Annie Proulx, Anton Chekov, Ray Bradbury, Ernest Hemingway, Daniel Silva, Maya Angelou, Tim Cahill, John le Carre, CS Lewis, William Blake, Brad Thor, Douglas Adams, Nelson Demille, Craig Johnson, Vince Flynn …  and Keith Richards; George Orwell; Anthony Burgess (see photos, below).

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Keith Richards / Rolling Stones … close to his books, listening to his guitar.
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George Orwell, close to books. http://www.cnn.com/2014/01/06/showbiz/gallery/famous-writers-typewriters/index.html

 

 

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Anthony Burgess, listening to books. http://timescolumns.typepad.com/stothard/2016/03/observeranthony-burgess-prize-for-arts-journalism.html

 

 

 
 
 
 
My “book-eyes” are bigger than the hours of the day.  My desire for good books, transcendent characters, kick-ass plots, great stories, goes beyond what is realistic.  And that, my fellow bloggers, is why I am holding out for bookish osmosis.
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Grieving Over, Yet?

I woke up this morning, a good place to start.  In my goings, my comings, my interactions, I am asked that profound question that has been lurking close by, since the dinosaurs: “How are you doing today?”

Me: “How ‘you doin’?”

Others: “I’m doin’ good.  How you doin’?”  (Just like the commercial, with a New York accent – “How You Doin’?  I’m Doin’ Good.  How You Doin’?”)

Me: “Well, I woke up, this morning. That suggested that it was going to be a good day.”

I have a theory: most people know, that on some level, it is good to wake up.  Not everyone wakes up.  This morning, when sleep slipped away, I thought of my grieving.  Anyone who has (miraculously) read any of my posts might know that my dad finished up his race (a metaphor for his life), last year, 2016, June.  The grieving process has, seemingly,not been, successful.  Some say that this kind of loss involves a lengthy process, longer than a year and four months.  And yet, I’ve been on the other side of the forest from joy, from victory, from strength, from my dreams … Get the picture? The weariness of grief shows up in more ways than one: the darkness, the sadness, lack of motivation, the loss of dreams.  Evenings, the fatigue may hit like a freight train.  I don’t think this is as simple as I would like it to be.  Is your grieving over?  To think, that there is more life, a different life, just over the horizon.  That is a good thought.  Some of you have already reached that point.  Don’t stop: I’m right behind you.

Sunset Other Side of the Trees