100 Books Like The Spiral Staircase

This book stopped me being scared of death – well almost. It is a wonderful read about how we are embodied creatures of planet Earth. Our very being is relationship. Take breathing for example. As you sit there you breathe in oxygen, nitrogen, and a little carbon dioxide. When you breathe out you release extra carbon dioxide – with that carbon coming from your body itself. You gift a little of your being in exchange for the oxygen - fragments that may end up in that tree outside your window. Once we understand that exchange is the essence of life, it helps us live well on our shared planet. As Weber explains, joy comes when we sense that life is increasing – for us and for others.

Our task then becomes to nurture life – the creative striving of all living things to become themselves and connect with others. Weber… show more.

After the first edition of Psychology for a Better World was published, I was on the search for a symbol or metaphor to capture the drive of so many people to contribute to the common good. It needed to be something that worked in secular settings and would resonate with the big social movements for the environment, justice, and wellbeing. I heard Carse speak about the infinite game on a podcast and immediately bought his book.

The notion is simple – in life, there are at least two kinds of games: finite games in which the object is to win, and the infinite game in which the object is to keep the game in play. That is it, I thought, life is about keeping the game in play. You don’t have to believe anything, but if you want, you can join the infinite game. Carse describes how these games play… show more.

This was the book that introduced me to complex systems. Many people have become familiar with complex systems in recent years as we’ve been exposed to talk of feedback loops and probability through discussions on climate change. Little inputs can make a big difference and big inputs sometimes collapse under the weight of their own inertia. This book has one of those titles that work their way into your imagination – getting to maybe?

It does not suggest you set goals and work, head down, towards your personal mission. It suggests that you take a look around, gather with others, invite ideas based on people’s passions, and get started. It is all about experimenting and learning together. Then, maybe, something will good will happen. The book offers plenty of inspiring examples of significant social change as a result of genuine innovation and listening to many voices.

This book describes what it takes to invite people into a conversation that leads to new ways of being together. Block is full of practical wisdom. For example, he discusses the importance of the physical setting – which is why I sometimes spend hours preparing for what a meeting will look and feel like. Our aim, he writes, is for people “to feel as if [they] came to the right place and are affirmed for that choice”. To do this, we need to gather everyone in – bringing them and their gifts to the centre of the process. Like my other recommendations, Block has huge optimism for what people can do when treated well.

This immediately immersed me in another time and place. Apparently, I’m very clear in my bookish likes, because it was recommended to me multiple times due to the combination of nuns and sapphic content. Luckily, it lived up to the recommendations!

It is very well written and extremely atmospheric, and it drew me right into its medieval world. Groff managed to create characters who feel appropriate to their era but who are also accessible to a modern reader, which is not an easy task. This helped me to become emotionally invested in the book.

In the current search for spirituality, many people inside and outside of the Jewish community are looking for the Jewish path to spirituality.

This is a powerful introduction to the various practices in Judaism that offer such a spiritual path for the seeker. The book contains a vehicle to enhancing one’s connection to the Divine or finding it for the first time. I found it helpful on a personal level. 

I sought out this book after Divine Mercy Sunday 2002. A visiting priest had shared St. Faustina’s story of receiving the Divine Mercy Chaplet from our Lord on September 13-14, 1935. Several of her dates coincide with dates that have significance in my own life, only mine in the present. God spreads his message of mercy through a Polish nun on what I would eventually discover through personal research, was the same dates that Hitler addressed youth in Nuremberg to inspire National Socialism. The diary gave me a glimpse of a real woman’s calling to bring God’s mercy to our world. 

Kate Horsely’s writing is exquisite. Every word, every detail is carefully chosen and her language has a beauty all its own. The novel is about an Irish nun, Gwynneve, who was raised pagan. She sought refuge in Saint Brigit’s and is welcomed because of her literacy. She is to transcribe the words of St. Augustine and St. Patrick. She observes the crossroads of paganism and Christianity and witnesses the positive and negative of both sides. I don’t want to give any spoilers, but Gwynneve becomes caught up in the conflict as she records her diary of observations and pays the price for honesty. Again, I’m fascinated by the two belief systems, pagan and Christian, side by side, and searched for how that transition occurred.

The curiosities we have about life can be deeply mysterious, and I’ve learned to love that about it. So, it seems, has Jane Christmas; her memoir recounts her exploration of the possibility of living a cloistered life. She feels compelled to take this journey and is willing to follow her instincts even if they lead to some unusual places.

I loved that this writer and human were open to exploring a deeply spiritual existence and then sharing what that experience was like. It’s not every day we get to go behind the scenes on what may be one of the most personal journeys of a human life.

This is a book about the Jewish movement called “Musar” – devoted to turning well-meaning but clumsy humans into upright, caring adults with a positive impact on all who know them.

Morinis is particularly good at helping the reader determine where in his/her personality the most attention is needed. And Morinis’s consideration of “the inner adversary” – the impulse that tempts us to mitigate our goodness every time we think of expressing it – is masterful.

The next time you decide to do a good deed – and then suddenly find reasons not to do it – you’ll remember Morinis and Musar. And you might do the good deed after all.