Anna

I've been thinking much about Doris Lessing's character, Anna, in the Golden Notebook. She pops into my mind when driving my son to lessons, or pumping gas, or sticking my hands in the dishwater. She will likely be immemorial to me, although to like her is to admit her edged turmoil into an acceptable place. She makes me sad, for her, for her seeking, and her denials, and her utter unmet desires which work to undermine, then bolster, her. She waves, heaves, rolls, flips, dives, flies, and nearly, or does, lose her sanity. Lessing does an amazing job of showing the complex divisions that we often are. At least I am. When I get close to women, and they're vulnerable with their true thoughts, I see it within them too. It's difficult. I know I need the Stabilizer, and even within Hands, I often conflictually toss, and need advice and fingers, and outside help. But, Anna was alone, walking outside "the myth" entirely, caught in her time's disillusionment, being brave, yet weakened too. I'll think of her for a while because Lessing (the recent Nobel prize winner) created someone that you believe in.