“Life isn’t as serious as the mind makes it out to be”
If you are interested in the topic of the egoic mind, might I recommend, A New Earth, or The Power Of Now by Eckhart Tolle. I know you asked for one book, but they are primarily analogous.
A small sample of Eckhart Tolle quotes:
“The past has no power over the present moment.”
“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.”
“The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it.”
“Acknowledging the good that you already have in your life is the foundation for all abundance.”
“Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you are having at the moment.”
“Realize deeply that the present moment is all you have. Make the NOW the primary focus of your life.”
“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.”
“To love is to recognize yourself in another.”
“Life isn't as serious as the mind makes it out to be.”
Mate
I misplayed the Caro-Kann Defense when I was nine. Father fed me only bread for three days.
Chess is everything, everything is chess. Everyone moves in patterns. A boy will never lose if he knows the patterns. A boy must only focus.
A boy faces nine pawns, a bishop, and a knight, all neatly arranged in black cloth chairs around a white table to which the judge sent us. The others all say guilty for now. There are two windows through which they uneasily glance for escape. A boy does not. A boy focuses.
“Blood is sensational. It is memorable. But when one views blood dispassionately it does not prove guilt,” I say.
The bishop holds forth with enmity not evident three hours before; his position is exposed. “Fine! Blood by itself proves nothing. But that man showed his character,” he says. “His poor girlfriend, don’t forget, found a flash drive full of violent, degrading pornography. Disgusting pornography.”
“And they fought about it,” nods pawn f2, but I’m observing pawn a2, whose eyes look down at the mention of degrading pornography.
“Many people watch many kinds of pornography,” I reply, “and your personal repugnance for it gives you no right to condemn a man. Or a woman, for that matter.” Nearly imperceptible gratitude softens the features of pawn a2. The athletic woman likes it rough.
A boy focuses.
“He punched the wall!” the bishop thunders. “She confronted him about—I’ll say it again—disgusting pornography, and he put a hole in the drywall. He’s a vicious, angry killer.”
His hold loosens with his temper. Mine remains firm and even as a tower wall. “That was the day before, and are we also to condemn anyone who has ever punched a wall?” Pawn f2 considers. “If you’re determined to lock up or execute every person who has ever accessed an adult website or hit something inanimate, then you’ll find yourself in a very lonely society.”
“Literal blood on hands.” The bishop, obviously immune to irony, pounds the table to emphasize each word: “Blood. On. Hands.”
Rook takes bishop. “You admitted not two minutes ago that blood by itself proves nothing. You have no evidence of his guilt. You have only your personal dislike and easily explained blood. He found his girlfriend’s body. He held her. But it does not follow that he made her bleed. It’s just as possible that she went out that night for some sordid Tinder hookup with the wrong man.”
“That’s uncalled for.” The knight sallies forth from the back row, and a few adoring pawns watch him gallop by. “There is no reason to slander the poor woman by saying she was cheating.”
“Supposing is not slander.”
“Yes, it is,” the knight answers. “Lay off her.”
Into the Lasker Trap. An aggressive opponent attacks a deliberately weak position. A boy takes the unsuspecting knight in four moves.
“Very well,” I say. “She met a suffering and unstable friend but misspoke and pushed him over the edge. Or she met a cousin with a dissolving marriage who came on to her, and who took her sainted rejection badly. Or she met her brother, who has sat in the front row every day of this trial with eyes so dry they must burn. Did you not notice his unweeping face?”
“You’re just confusing everyone.” True. The pawns shift in their seats and flick their eyes between us. “It had to be him. The earrings which he bought her were ripped out post-mortem. Why would a brother or a cousin do that?”
“Yes,” I say, “her diamond earrings were gone, nowhere to be found. Certainly not in the pockets of the accused. But very tempting for a random hoodlum.”
He hesitates to think, while the dizzy pawns cannot. The bishop remains out of play, and the endgame becomes inevitable.
***
Afterward, the athletic pawn told me I had done a good thing.
I replay the game in my study that evening. It amused. Perhaps next time a boy will play the white position.
By now the pawns question how reasonable their doubt was, and whether they were wrong to press the bishop and the knight into a corner. They lack conviction. They lack information.
I take up the diamond earrings from their fellow keepsakes in the drawer. Atypical and perhaps risky to play in one’s own county, but she looked fetching in the mornings with her latte.
A boy must take an unprotected queen.
how to say “i love you”
you’ll have to catch the eye
of their soul and take the hand
of their heart: find something they
can’t live without and make them
realize, it wouldn’t be hard at all.
then lean in close and whisper
your promise of eternity;
don’t forget to mention that you leaving
isn’t a possibility.
lastly, take them somewhere special
a place that means everything
to the both of you, and
connect the stars hidden behind their eyes
and tell them all your truths.
The Abyss
At the end of the cliff is a rope.
At the end of the rope is a knife.
At the end of the knife is a girl
holding onto the blade for her life.
The water in her eyes turns the night stars into Van Gough's masterpiece.
The colors dance as her body screams.
Fearing the abyss, she never looks below
though the sound of the waves beckon her to follow.
Her grip grows tighter, the knife grows sharper.
The screaming in her mind blocks out the shouting from her mouth.
And the stars spin and dance like never before
because she's falling... falling... falling...
To the earth's core?
To the ocean floor?
To death's door?
To mercy's shore?
To healing from the war.