Books like Unmade Hearts

The colonial period of Mexico was a mystery to me, so I turned to the ultimate source, this book by Paz. Surprisingly, I found that I did not agree with all of Paz’s conclusions about Sor Juana and the time she lived. He wrote from a male perspective, a middle-aged scholarly male perspective. Sor Juana was a young woman, a distinguished scholar in her own right. Had she written such a history, it would be quite different.

Sadly, there is no such book written from a woman’s perspective, so I invite you to join me in discovering what nuggets of wisdom you can in this book, truly the ultimate deep dive into Sor Juana’s life and times. Yes, I relied a great deal on Paz’s research. You will find it fascinating too.

This lavishly illustrated story of the Virgin of Guadalupe is simply stunning. The authors committed themselves to extensive research, from the very first story of the Virgin's appearance through discoveries about the constellations on her robe, the images in the background, and even recent discoveries of the images in her eyes.

And still, the question remains: Why has this tulpa made of peasant’s cloth not deteriorated, like all other fabrics from that era? Now I understand why the Virgin of Guadalupe is the patron of Mexico City.

Royer adores Sor Juana, as do I. There are some wonderful surprises here, such as a long list of authors that Sor Juana likely read. The images that he presents, such as the church where la Vicereine Leonore was buried, are personal rather than scholarly. Yes, he does still speak from a purely male perspective, but it feels gentler than most.

Sor Juana was dubbed “The Tenth Muse” by an admiring priest in Spain upon publication of her poetry, and the sobriquet has remained with her throughout the centuries.

Sor Juana wrote hundreds and hundreds of poems in all manner of styles, from short, spiffy, and even humorous ones to elaborate villancicos performed in a cathedral. Here is a brief collection in both Spanish and English, a few of her shorter love poems. The poems may have been written for her lover, la Vicereine Maria Louisa, or as a commission for a gentleman’s wife or lover. In any event, they are magnificent, such as:

Oh, how I went up in flames

In your lovely Sun!

Hungry for the bait,

I forgot the danger.

Reading these poems, I could not doubt the depth of Sor Juana’s passion.

In exploring the magic around us, we can see the effects of the good, bad, and curses. The danger of using magic for love spells is that it can backfire. I believe there are people who can reunite with us for many lifetimes, and there are multiple reincarnations of ourselves.

I am not a crier, but I came close in this one. The ending was not what I wanted and was completely unexpected, but that’s the type of book that will keep you thinking about them for a while afterward. I personally love books that have that effect on the reader!

When I met Danielle Sunberg on Zoom during the pandemic, I was impressed with her ability to listen to her inner voice, to use it as the GPS for navigating her life.

Without relying on the language of the mystics, she describes her transformation from a corporate lawyer in Anne Taylor suits to a backpacking truth seeker as she travels the world in search of her real self. This deceptively simple book can carry the reader into their own insights on the nature of self, life, and spirit through the guidance and questions at the end of each chapter.

It's easily relatable to Westerners who have no interest in Eastern spirituality but are looking for a grounded awareness and higher consciousness. And it's a fun travelogue!

A complete classic from 1923, it contains so much wisdom that I almost use it as a reference book. There’s no plot as such, the central character forming a mouthpiece for short bursts of poetic prose that cover many of life’s biggest issues.

I adore the beauty of the metaphors and the whimsical nature of the advice, and I’ve quoted it in both formal and informal moments more times than I can remember.

Though I am not religious, I have been aesthetically moved and spiritually stirred by these deeply personal, profoundly philosophical, and poetically enigmatic essays, which I find myself returning to when faced with the most fundamental questions about our spiritual lives.

Written by a French Jewish convert to Christianity whose own suffering is exquisitely attuned to the suffering of others, these essays have continued to inspire readers from across a broad spectrum of religious and philosophical orientations—including the most secular among us.

Harvey chooses from a variety of faith traditions (including Islam, Hinduism, Christianity, and Ancient Greek thought) to share mystical and spiritual passages from sacred texts. His approach is not to explain the meaning as he sees it, but to offer the selections for readers to immerse themselves in the beautiful, historical writings without too much direction. This book is a source of renewal for me. My copy is dog-eared and highlighted. There is writing in the margins and post-its on the pages. I find the words of the mystics, including Rumi, Buddha, and saints like Francis of Assisi as a balm to my weary soul. More than once, sections of this book have been read aloud in my yoga classes. 

This is sometimes heavy slogging, and irritating for the absence of her personal spiritual stories, but it remains a seminal work. Her lifelong quest was a source of private angst, provoking her to research and write novels, poems, and this psychological exploration of how the mystic fits into both worlds with joy. It includes a valuable appendix of mystics over centuries.