Almost Everything: Notes on Hope
Written and Narrated By: Anne Lamott
Length: 3 hrs and 40 mins
Being flattened by Life, then breathing again, then again, then one more time
I have to admit it. I had to listen to Almost Everything twice. The first time, the narration nearly did me in. Perhaps you’re fluent in all things Anne Lamott, from her earlier inspirational texts and writing to her TED talk. And kinda what you know is what happens to be missing from this narration of her own work. The wryness of Lamott’s expressions as she delivers her TED talk, the expressiveness of her eyes? Not here. There’s only a slow (HAD to listen at x1 speed as there was simply too much in the text not to get lost at higher speeds), high flatness to her tones, a halting and stilted pacing that just BEGS your mind to dither away here and there.
As Lamott would say: “So, there’s that…”
Enough to make you trundle along before you realize that she just delivered a breathlessly profound line and followed it with a totally hilarious next line. I missed so much, yes, I had to listen to the entire thing again. But at not quite 4 hours, and with some free time on my hand, this was not hard to do.
Especially as Almost Everything is incredibly deep, incredibly light; a joyful ode to this terrible, terrible thing we call Life.
Lamott discusses everything she knows to two of her heart’s dearests, all in the hopes of making their future lives a little less painful, a little more full and vibrant.
She discusses her own nutty nature, fraught with wanting to jump off tall buildings, all the way to not hating those in politics, even though, she has to admit, she kinda sorta likes the feeling of utter self-righteousness that comes with hating intensely. But she realizes that it diminishes her. And that’s where forgiveness comes in, whether it’s towards politicians, whether it’s towards your own family.
She teaches us all that healing is an Inside Job—you can’t heal other people; you’ll only bunk it all to hell if you try. That there is hope in the small things. That we can hear the music of the spheres in birdsong or the roiling ocean or in tangerines. That the closer you come to death in this life, the less will be your fear of it (especially if you’ve been granted the opportunity to bathe a body and revere the life that once resided in it).
There are talks on God, whatever your name for that might be (her son’s is, “The Muffin”), and how fundamentalism in all its forms is front and center during times of angst and decay. You can even be a fundamentalist in your atheism, and it about kills your life and soul, even when you don’t believe in a soul. There are talks on how family is a higher education for the soul—that which hurt you, heals you if you work it right. How our flaws and our brokenness are what make us creative, artists in our own rights.
I liked the book when all was said and done, even though my mind wandered at the end again as she went on and on and on about grace and hope, two things we are in dire need of now and for the foreseeable future, so I wish I’d paid more attention. But that’s the joys of audiobooks and books, the spoken and written word: You can always go back when you need to.
Almost Everything, if you don’t mind the occasional forays into the political (if you’re a spokesman for the NRA, you might feel a tad miffed by her views on you), discussions about God (though she’s not an in-your-face religious nut by any stretch of the imagination… okay, maybe by a slight stretch…), is perfect listening for this time of the year when we’re looking for things to be grateful for, when we’re actually willing and ready to count our blessings. There’s even a section on Food, so if you have issues around that this time of year, expect warmth, guidance, humor (the Earth Mother is Carbs!).
As Lamott would say? “Yay!”
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