I found these three recently-published books of special interest, one because I've found meditation desirable but a difficult path to follow until I discovered Thich Nhat Hanh/s Walking Meditation many years ago, and this latest version with its CD and DVD recharged me; the second because while i959 was special to me because I graduated from college and did a year of graduate study in San Francisco, no one had examined that year's pivotal influence until Fred Kaplan's 1959: The Year Everything Changed; and third, because even though I have lived in the Sonoma Valley for four years now, Jonah Raskin's Field Days: A Year of Farming, Eating, and Drinking Wine in California re-catalyzed not only my joy of living here but also my joy of being a Californian!

Walking Meditation, by Nguyen Anh-Huong and Thich Nhat Hanh (Sounds True, 2006)
Walking meditation is meditation while walking. We walk slowly, in a relaxed way, keeping a light smile on our lips. When we practice this way, we feel deeply at ease, and our steps are those of the most secure person on Earth. All our sorrows and anxieties drop away, and peace and joy fill our hearts. Anyone can do it. It takes only a little time, a little mindfulness, and the wish to be happy. –Thich Nhat Hanh

Here are two ways to practice walking meditation, by Thich Nhat Hanh:

We can practice walking meditation by counting steps or by using words. If the rhythm of our breathing is three steps for each in-breath and out-breath (3-3), for example, we can say, silently, “Lotus flower blooms. Lotus flower blooms,” or “The green planet. The green planet,” as we walk. If our breathing is two steps for each in-breath, and three steps for each out breath(2-3), we might say, “Lotus flower. Lotus flower blooms.” Or “Walking on the green planet. Walking on the green planet,” for 5-6.

We don’t just say the words. We really see flowers blooming under our feet. We really become one with our green planet. Feel free to use your own creativity and wisdom. Walking meditation is not hard labor. It is for your enjoyment.
–Thich Nhat Hanh

When you begin to practice walking meditation, you might feel unbalanced, like a baby learning to walk. Follow your breathing, dwell mindfully on your steps, and soon you will find your balance. Visualize a tiger walking slowly, and you will find that your steps become as majestic as the steps of a tiger.
– Thich Nhat Hanh

1959: The Year Everything Changed, by Fred Kaplan (Wiley, 2009)

There's something very off-putting about a hyperbolic title. The more the author trumpets the earth-shattering importance of his premise, the more the skeptical reader is likely to growl: sez who? But it would be wrong to let the title — or even the occasionally supercharged rhetoric — of Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter and author Fred Kaplan's book put you off his fascinating, fact-filled look at this seething cauldron of a year:

"1959 was the year when the shockwaves of the new ripped the seams of daily life, when humanity stepped into the cosmos and also commandeered the conception of human life, when the world shrank exponentially, when outsiders became insiders, when categories were crossed and taboos were trampled, when everything was changing and everyone knew it — when the world as we now know it began to take form."

As we stand on the cusp of what will no doubt be 10 years of celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Sixties, with countless commemorations of society-altering events and occasions, it is salutary to be reminded that even the most revolutionary decades don't begin crisply according to rigid calendar categories. We all know that the Beats of the 1950s paved the way for the Beatles and hippies of the 1960s, and Mr. Kaplan gives us a colorful and memorable account of their antics during 1959. But what makes his book especially interesting is the host of other truly pivotal events that he spotlights, running the gamut from art to politics, from literature to jazz.

The year certainly began with a bang: On just its second day, the Russian Lunik 1 rocket "sailed past the moon, and pushed free of Earth's orbit, becoming the first man-made object to revolve around the sun among the celestial bodies." In the next decade, the space race between the Americans and the Russians proved one of the most competitive aspects of the Cold War rivalry, but also undeniably the most fruitful, culminating only 10 years later with Neil Armstrong's moon landing in July 1969. Today, with the Cold War gone but not forgotten, Americans and Russians work together manning the International Space Station, something unimaginable 50 years ago.

All sorts of barriers were breached. Mr. Kaplan points to John Cassavetes' independent feature film "Shadows," first screened in New York on Nov. 11, 1959, as opening up American movie making beyond Hollywood's hegemony and unleashing countless quality independent homegrown films to compete with Europe's and Japan's. Landmark court cases involving D.H. Lawrence's novel "Lady Chatterley's Lover" and a film based on it effectively ended censorship of written and dramatic material, no matter how titillating. In movie house and publishing house, all bets were off henceforth. And not just there: Lenny Bruce and Mort Sahl were cavorting in nightclubs saying words that would have been unthinkable in public not long before. And if things were not quite that dramatic or groundbreaking in the world of art and music, Mr. Kaplan points to the opening of the Guggenheim Museum in New York City on October 21 and to the efforts of Jasper Johns, John Coltrane, Louis Armstrong and Berry Gordy in this year.

Undoubtedly, the most far-reaching innovations of 1959 were the development and clinical trials of the birth control pill and the introduction of "a new device that would change the world as profoundly as any invention of the 20th century — the solid integrated circuit, or as it also came to be called, the microchip." In the latter case, there is no question of hyperbole: How can one overstate the changes ushered in by this particular invention? But, as Mr. Kaplan writes, the ability of women to control their reproduction was scarcely less revolutionary: "The Pill freed women to control not only when to have children, and how many, but also what to do with their lives."

It is not necessary for us to accept Mr. Kaplan's thesis to appreciate, enjoy and be enlightened by all that he has packed into this volume. What seems beyond doubt is that much of what happened in 1959 had very far-reaching consequences, well beyond the decade of the 1960s which they ushered in:

"This dual tension between 'unknown opportunities and peril,' as [John F.] Kennedy put it, did much to spark the creative energy of the era. It marked the onset of a new era in modern history, when — for better and for worse — nothing seemed out of the question, no option definitely foreclosed. Life's hairpin curves could be avoided through various means — drugs, therapy, denial, or dropping out. But those who immersed themselves in the voyage experienced the thrill and vertigo that came from streaking across the edge of a tomorrow that might bring miracles or catastrophe in an instant — a tomorrow that still haunts us today."

In these words with which "1959: The Year Everything Changed" conclude, the exuberance of Mr. Kaplan's prose shows itself not to have been worn down in the process of writing his book. But undeniably the ripple effect of those innovations of 1959 is still disturbing our universe for better and for worse and show no signs of dying out anytime soon.

Field Days: A Year of Farming, Eating, and Drinking Wine in California, by Jonah Raskin (University of California Press, 2009)

Author Jonah Raskin labored on an organic farm in Sonoma, California, to write his new book Field Days: A Year of Farming, Eating, and Drinking Wine in California. He commingles his reporter's notes with personal memoir in this quest for "health, harmony, and a sense of place." The

journey transforms him into a slimmer, near-vegetarian locavore. He comes to understand that the key to sustainability is to eat food raised close to home and grown organically.

Raskin says, "I did not intend this book to be about politics or economics." That is a concept so quaint as to be humorous. The only thing more political than the issues of farming, organic food production and environmental sustainability is Karl Rove's Blackberry. No matter how delicately Raskin wants to tiptoe around politics or economics, he is discussing Mexican farm labor within 22 pages, California land value within 31 pages and soon thereafter, farm collectives, food co-ops, agribusiness, Community Supported Agriculture (CSA), the Department of Homeland Security, labor raids, pesticides and other such socio-economic considerations. Raskin is no stranger to political topics. He reported extensively on California's marijuana cultivation business throughout the 1970s and he has written books on such incendiary figures as Abbie Hoffman and Alan Ginsberg. In spite of Raskin's non-political intent, he states (at least twice) throughout his book, "I believe that the hands on the hoes in the fields are connected to the hand on the knives and the forks at the dinner table." Not exactly destined for a bumper sticker, however it does capsulate a world view.

In Field Days, Raskin presents himself as a skilled note taker rather than a brilliant wordsmith. He knows his strengths and weaknesses. He displays no false modesty when he says, "I never do know how to use the terms that wine writers use, though I have written about wine and wineries for magazines since the 1980s." He demonstrates the point by rather feebly describing a boutique Zinfandel as "amazing" and moving on. Raskin's book reads like assiduous notes more or less randomly fleshed out. There is no unifying narrative thread to follow, no dramatic arc to travel. The many Somona residents who populate Field Days have personalities, but we learn too little about them to have an emotional stake in their outcome. We are still being introduced to new people on the fourth to last page. This is a bit of a ramble, but rambles can be enjoyable.

Raskin frequently is possessed to describe the clothing of his interview subjects and the impulse is entirely baffling, as the attire is never more remarkable than jeans, t-shirt and a baseball cap. Unless your subject is wearing leotards, a cape and a mask, it probably isn't worth mentioning. While this type of empty calorie detail is served, we are often left begging for more nourishing information at other passages in the book. For example, Raskin interviewed a farmer who "kept a record of the compost he added to the soil, and about compost he spoke rapturously. From the way he described its texture, color, smell, and weight, you might think compost was the food of the gods." And that's it. Nothing more about that rapturous description. Just nouns, the bare bones. No adjectives, no similes, no spice. How would we think compost was the food of the gods with nothing more to incite our imagination? Come on, give us something to develop that manna-like texture, color, smell and weight. We can take it.

On a substantive level, Raskin may be a bit light-headed and heavy-handed on the topic of locally grown and consumed produce. The most glaring example is his approach to the Whole Foods market chain. We are told that Whole Foods is an evil corporate giant to be shunned. However, we are never actually told why. From his interviews, the employees seem happy, the executives seem committed. Raskin is given access to all aspects of the Sonoma Whole Foods store with the exception of the kitchen for safety considerations, but for that hindrance Raskin insists Whole Foods is not to be trusted. He appears to have forgotten mentioning 200 pages earlier that Whole Foods loaned a Sonoma organic farmer $50,000, with which she installed an elaborate underground irrigation system, as part of the company's "program to rely less on distant suppliers and generate more produce from local farmers." This doesn't sound the least bit evil or corporate. In fact, it sounds quite compatable with Raskin's "hands on the hoes" sensibility. Yet, we are told absolutely nothing more about this sponsorship program. Remember, this is a personal quest and not investigative journalism. Field Days is best appreciated when held to this less demanding standard.

Raskin's personal quest is what is important here. "Going back to the soil--planting, harvesting, weeding, and cultivating--changed what I prepared in my kitchen and how I prepared it," he observes. "Farming changed my feelings about food any my rituals of eating, whether by myself or with friends." If it takes a ramble to reach this most admirable end, so be it. Enjoy the ramble.