In my former life in the publishing world, one of my favorite things in December issues (aside from the not-so-relevant gift guides) were the lists that summarized the year that was.
So this is my own version of the own best-of lists.
Here’s the first one, a list of my 10 favorite books for the year:
When Breath becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi
There is perhaps only one thing to say to this infant, who is all future, overlapping briefly with me, whose life, barring the improbable, is all but past. That message is simple: When you come to one of the many moments in life where you must give an account of yourself, provide a ledger of what you have been, and done, and meant to the world, do not, I pray, discount that you filled a dying man’s days with a sated joy, a joy unknown to me in all my prior years, a joy that does not hunger for more and more but rests, satisfied. In this time, right now, that is an enormous thing.
Smarter, Faster, Better by Charles Duhigg
When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn’t really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That’s because they were able to connect experiences they’ve had and synthesize new things. And the reason they were able to do that was that they’ve had more experiences or they have thought more about their experiences than other people. People become creative brokers, in other words, when they learn to pay attention to how things make them react and feel.
In Other Words by Jhumpa Lahiri
Quando scopro un modo diverso per esprimermi provo una specie di estasi. Le parole sconosciute rappresentano un abisso vertiginoso, fecondo. Un abisso che contiene tutto ciò che mi sfugge, tutto il possibile.
When I discover a different way to express something, I feel a kind of ecstasy. Unknown words present a dizzying yet fertile abyss. An abyss containing everything that escapes me, everything possible.
The Law of Divine Compensation: On Work, Money and Miracles by Marianne Williamson
Making love the bottom line doesn’t mean that you’re compelled to do anything anyone ever asks you to do. Love always gives a loving response—but sometimes the loving response is “no.”
But making love the bottom line does mean that we take seriously the idea that we are on the earth to do as love would have us do, and to do with our resources only what we are internally guided to do.
Creativity Inc. by Ed Catmull
It stems from my belief that our decisions and actions have consequences and that those consequences shape our future. Our actions change our reality. Our intentions matter. Most people believe that their actions have consequences but don’t think through the implications of that belief. But Steve did. He believed, as I do, that it is precisely by acting on our intentions and staying true to our values that we change the world.
The Magnolia Story by Chip and Joanna Gaines
What am I going for in life? Was it to achieve somebody else’s idea of what a perfect home should look like? Or was it to live in the perfection of the home and family I have?
Succulent Wild Love by Sark
I had a marvelous mentor named Patricia who reminded me frequently, “Don’t make the mistake of attaching your love to another person.” She went on to say, “Realize that their love is reflected through you, it does not originate from them. They are not your source of love—you and your inner wise self are.”
The Miracle Morning by Hal Elrod
Where you are is a result of who you were, but where you end up depends entirely on who you choose to be from this moment forward.
The Rainbow Comes and Goes by Anderson Cooper and Gloria Vanderbilt
There is so much to be joyful about, so many different kinds of rainbows in one’s life: making love is an incredible rainbow, as is falling in love; knowing friendship; being able to really talk with someone who has a problem and say something that will help; waking up in the morning, looking out and seeing a tree that has suddenly blossomed, like the one I have outside my window—what joy that brings. It may seem a small thing, but rainbows come in all sizes.
Brave Enough by Cheryl Strayed
Our work, our job, the most important gig of all, is to make a place that belongs to us, a structure composed of our own moral code. Not the code that echoes imposed cultural values, but the one that tells us on a visceral level what to do.
You don’t have a right to the cards you believe you should have been dealt. You have the obligation to play the hell out of the ones you’re holding.
It’s folly to measure your success in money or fame. Success is measured only by your ability to say yes to these two questions:
Did I do the work I needed to do?
Did I give it everything I had?
You go on by doing the best you can. You go on by being generous. You go on by being true. You go on by offering comfort to others who can’t go on. You go on by allowing the unbearable days to pass and by allowing the pleasure in other days. You go on by finding a channel for your love and another for your rage.
Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go.
Acceptance is a small, quiet room.
Little pleasures: Only a Kiss by Ines Bautista-Yao, Marrying Winterborne by Lisa Kleypas, my ultra-kilig trashy novel that I reread every year The Notorious Rake by Mary Balogh (it’s so old even Amazon doesn’t sell it anymore)
