Sometimes I am appalled by the amount that I don't know. I wonder, what was I doing when that was taking place? Why hadn't I read that? Where was my head when I should have been more aware?
Yesterday, after a full day of olive picking, my helpers sat around sharing (wonderful) music and conversation. At one point they were talking about an author who won a Nobel Prize. Maybe I hadn't caught the name, maybe the title was a little familiar, but I had to admit that I didn't know the books they were talking about.
Thankyou again friend google, for filling in some gaps. I had to admit to myself that I didn't know anything about Gabriel García Márquez and I hadn't read either of his two incredibly famous books. The English translation of One Hundred Years of Solitude came out when I was a first-year student at university, surrounded by mountains of books and papers. But that is no excuse. A good many years have passed since then, and I didn't ever come across these books. The next time I get a chance I will look for One Hundred Years of Solitude, and see what it is that I have somehow overlooked for all these years.
And why did he win a Nobel prize? For literature, of course. For me, the words Nobel and Peace are synonymous. But the pen really is mightier than the sword, so perhaps there is nothing wrong with that assumption,
The conversation about the man and his books, despite being of "my times", was completely new to me. Pretty humbling, really.
Today I am grateful for wonderful conversations.
Yesterday, after a full day of olive picking, my helpers sat around sharing (wonderful) music and conversation. At one point they were talking about an author who won a Nobel Prize. Maybe I hadn't caught the name, maybe the title was a little familiar, but I had to admit that I didn't know the books they were talking about.
Thankyou again friend google, for filling in some gaps. I had to admit to myself that I didn't know anything about Gabriel García Márquez and I hadn't read either of his two incredibly famous books. The English translation of One Hundred Years of Solitude came out when I was a first-year student at university, surrounded by mountains of books and papers. But that is no excuse. A good many years have passed since then, and I didn't ever come across these books. The next time I get a chance I will look for One Hundred Years of Solitude, and see what it is that I have somehow overlooked for all these years.
And why did he win a Nobel prize? For literature, of course. For me, the words Nobel and Peace are synonymous. But the pen really is mightier than the sword, so perhaps there is nothing wrong with that assumption,
The conversation about the man and his books, despite being of "my times", was completely new to me. Pretty humbling, really.
Today I am grateful for wonderful conversations.
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