From the Inside FlapI met my father when I was forty. That's usually a showstopper right there. But this isn't about that meeting, not yet; it's about digging myself out of the hole that the absence of a good father creates. Notice that I say a good father, for there are many kinds of fathers. And a bad father is worse than no father at all. That's what my mother often told me and of the truth of that statement I am entirely convinced. (By no means do I diminish the equal importance of a good mother, but recognizing the empty space created by the lack of a good father, I weigh towards the void.) In fact, I am quite certain that a good father could be the salvation of humankind. No kidding. Do men have any idea how important they are in this basic capacity? A good father is everything. But why would anyone want to read the story of someone they had never heard of? And how could anyone be so egotistical as to think that anyone else would be interested in the ins and outs of another's past? And furthermore, why would anyone want to go back and exhume the ghosts of that past only to be taunted and teased and then have to put them back to rest again? Well believe me, I had no intention of writing this. It never would have happened if I didn't see that little boy on the television. The fact is, I fell into a metaphorical hole and the only way out was to dig, and the only trowel I had was language. And this wasn't my idea. I called a trusted advisor and explained the situation to her, "I don't know what to do, where to go, where to turn." She said, "You have to start writing down every memory from as far back as you can and don't stop until you arrive at the present moment." I knew she was right. I knew there was no other way. And so I began to write. I had to begin with the little boy on the television because that's where my exodus began. To enter into the past isn't just story telling, it's becoming--becoming who you were at that point in time, or, who the observer within you was and what was observed. It's like cleaning out the attic; you go into a distant corner and open a box, and within that box is a little world, and within that little world is a construct of people, places and things. The stage is set and comes alive again as the actors begin to move and walk and talk and interact. You describe everything you see and hear and smell and feel. Then, between laughter and tears, you frame each segment and mount it on the wall and go on to the next. Those pictures on the wall become a continuous link, connecting, as it were, one dot to another. If there's a dot missing the story will lack cohesion. And that's where the work begins because without that missing dot, the ones before and after it don't make sense. And without the missing pieces there are holes in our wholeness. Ultimately, by exposition, there is integration and the realization that it is the circumstances of life that are flawed, not our beings. We can move away from these circumstances because although they happened to us, they are not who we are, they are the unconscious invisible thread that has been passed down from generation to generation. There is, instead, a true core to move towards and we find that we are alive and well beneath invisible layers that can be shed in a journey back to the self. From the Back CoverSame as product description.About the AuthorElizabeth Wallace went to Queen Anne High School in Seattle and Seattle University. She graduated from London's Royal Academy of Music and the Cork School of Music in Ireland as well as Ireland'sHibernian Academy of Art. She is a member of Boston's Copley Society of Art, the Guild of Boston Artists and is a Registered Nurse. Elizabeth is also listed in Who's Who In America. This is a story of her incredible journey. why is it important to read books The Invisible Thread: A Journey Home
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. A heartening memoirBy Heather GillThe plight of children around the world is so saddening. Reading Beths remarkable story reminds me that hope can come in many guises, and children have miraculous strength to survive and thrive even when their basic need for love and approval is not met. The human soul is indomitable, and always open to the kind of epiphany Beth recounts that led her to know and love herself for the first time as a young adult. Her experience of being born later in life, and coming to the realisation that all the dreadful things she went through were not her fault, is a miracle available to all by Gods grace. Despite the lack of stability and identity, and living daily with her aunts mental illness and her damaged mothers inability to touch her or call her by name, ultimately it seems she has grown, and created, and blessed her own family with her enlightenment. I am heartened and would call Beths well-written memoir inspiring.8 of 9 people found the following review helpful. A Curious EffectBy Jennifer Nightingale"The Invisible Thread - a Journey Home", had a curious effect on me. The narrative of my own childhood is so inexorably interwoven with the author's stories that I couldn't help but relive them. As a member of the eccentric family across the street, I had a front row seat to some of the stories and heard others over the years through letters, phone calls and visits. I cannot pretend to be objective. Although I know these stories as if they were my own, the author has so masterfully retold these tales that I felt myself once again back in a landscape that I never thought I would revisit.I can indeed attest that the world she recreated was a real one. I remember the fire trucks in the alley, the flashing lights and the smell of burning wood. I remember the gawking neighbors. I remember the gully as foreboding and filled with skunk cabbages, horsetails and blackberry brambles. I remember the tree house and how impressed I was that Beth was so brave and clever to build such a thing. What I didn't understand then were the demons that haunted her. For me the new glimpses into the author's interior self were illuminating. Yet I remember her as far more than the angry rebellious child she looks back upon. I remember that she could also be fun, encouraging and kind.I was particularly moved by her story of the farmer's donkey. It was in this story that we see her put the well being of another before herself. She recognized that the poor creature was terribly misunderstood and had no advocate. She came to donkey's aid in a fashion that is nothing short of profound. She not only saw to it that he had nutrition, comfort and rest. She saw to it that he was understood and loved. Her description of time itself and of their parting was at once beautiful beyond measure and so heartbreaking. In that moment where she is lying in the field with the donkey under the wide blue sky, she showed a compassion that was far beyond her years and circumstances.Elizabeth Wallace has an extraordinary tale to tell and like any good author, she does leave us wanting more.1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. The Invisible ThreadBy yiayiaLiked this book very much. The story of a journey to find oneself was very inspirational and at times heartbreaking. A young girl searching for love and stability, had to find it all on her own. Felt her mother took a long, long time to become one as she shut her out at every turn while she was growing up. Would recommend it to my "reader" friends.