Things happen, I thought, and we respond. That's what it all comes down to. To believe anything else, as far as I could tell, was simply an illusion.
Alice SteinbachWhat is the purpose of memory? Is it a trick to make sure we don't forget who we are by reminding us of who we were?
Alice SteinbachI had surprised myself this year by jumping in to reshape my life before life stepped in to reshape it for me.
Alice SteinbachThe unexpectedness of life, waiting round every corner, catches even wise women unawares," [Freya] wrote. "To avoid corners altogether is, after all, to refuse to live." ...It was if someone in charge had said to me: not guilty. Permission granted to continue on with your life as usual.
Alice SteinbachThe fun-seekers, I noted, were spontaneous and flexible. They approached each day and each situation with a willingness to ride whatever wave came along, just for the experience of it. The complainers, on the other hand, would only catch a wave if it was exactly to their liking. Anything else drew loud protestations about how it was not what they expected.
Alice SteinbachNever mind that I hadn't a clue which path to follow or whether, to echo Robert Frost, the one I took would make all the difference. The truth is, I'd bailed out of the right choice-wrong choice mentality a long time ago. It seemed so clear to me--since I'd wised up to the idea that life is not a straight road with no exit ramps--that life presented opportunities all along the way for a person to change directions. Besides, over the last ten years, I'd grown to like the idea of not knowing where a choice might lead me.
Alice SteinbachA scene," Mary told us, "is a moment when there is some form of tension. A scene leads to the next scene. And a causal connection between scenes is what leads you to the story. A scene should be very clearly developed, and when the action is finished, the scene is over. An anecdote is, 'Oh, I missed the train. You'll never believe what happened....' An anecdote leads to nothing.
Alice SteinbachAt first the lives of women frightened me. They seemed so fragile, so dependent on fathers and husbands and brothers and lovers. Gradually, though, I noticed how supple their lives were beneath the surface. I saw, too, that sooner or later, by choice or by chance most women faced the task of adapting to a future on their own. When at my most optimistic, I thought of it as independence, in darker moods, as survival. Either way, women had to do it.
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