Further examines the human heart and celebrates those who serve life so beautifully, so effortlessly, so selflessly often without knowing.
From the New York Times bestselling author comes the wisdom to heal ourselves and those around us.
With Kitchen Table Wisdom, Dr. Remen established herself as an important new voice bringing hope and healing to a difficult world. Her book spent more than three months on the New York Times bestseller list, and maintained even longer runs on the Boston, San Francisco, and Denver lists.
Now she has written My Grandfather's Blessings, a work that further examines the human heart and celebrates those who serve life so beautifully, so effortlessly, so selflessly often without knowing.
It was Rachel Remen's grandfather, a kabbalistic rabbi, who gave her the eyes to see that service is what heals the isolation and loneliness in us all. Service happens every day in ways we don't notice: we serve each other; life serves us; and it is discovering the place of service in ourselves that leads at last to wisdom. As Remen says, "Every life serves a purpose which is both simple and profound. We are here to grow in wisdom and to learn to love better. What this says is that there are many life paths but all life has a spiritual agenda. And all people are on a spiritual path." These stories give us a profound sense of strength that is achieved by knowing that we belong to each other, and to life itself.
"Rachel Naomi Remen is nature's gift to us, a genius of that elusive and crucial capacity, the human heart. She has much to teach us about healing, loving, and living."--Daniel Goleman
From The Introduction
Often, when he came to visit, my grandfather would bring me a present. These were never the sorts of things that other people brought, dolls and books and stuffed animals. My dolls and stuffed animals have been gone for more than half a century, but many of my grandfather's gifts are with me still.
Once he brought me a little paper cup. I looked inside it expecting something special. It was full of dirt. I was not allowed to play with dirt. Disappointed, I told him this. He smiled at me fondly. Turning, he picked up the little teapot from my dolls' tea set and took me to the kitchen where he filled it with water. Back in the nursery, he put the little cup on the windowsill and handed me the teapot. "If you promise to put some water in the cup every day, something may happen," he told me.
At the time, I was four years old and my nursery was on the sixth floor of an apartment building in Manhattan. This whole thing made no sense to me at all. I looked at...
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