A Life Lived Through Books
We live our lives in many ways...
Sometimes we live our lives through what we choose to read. Or, what we choose to read, is lived through us...
I think of this, as I show a pest control agent down to my basement. My eyes catch the rows upon rows of volumes relegated to a space at the bottom of my staircase because at one point shelves on other floors overflowed beyond their maximum capacity...
My hands lovingly run through so many volumes - each one exemplifying a different epoch or area of interest in my life...
So many volumes of theological studies - spiritual treatises spanning centuries - and quite esoteric works populate these shelves. I pick one up, and look at its contents, reviewing underlined passages - fascinated by what once held my interest captive - noting how my additional years enable me to extract even more wisdom from their learned pages...
A life is lived in written words: ones we read - or ones we pen...
I have a bookshelf of writings - journals and poetry - reaching back into my early teens... Earlier writings than these manuscripts were once "lent" to a friend and I've not seen them since. Still, I have quite a cache of notebooks - and even the draft of a half-written novel in there - somewhere...
I do not go back to sample these writings - but there is much comfort in knowing they are simply there - journals which record rich spiritual years, my only pregnancy, and the life of my son during his first year. These notebooks and manuscripts sit there quietly, in their designated places. Perhaps someday, after I am gone, they will lend someone an insight into my life...
A life is truly lived in words - and in the choices we make as to what we shall read...
The time we have upon this earth is limited...
I think of this on my walk - realizing that in all probability I have more years behind me now - than I have in front of me...
And that is why I choose so wisely what I will read - because the time remaining is precious and not to be frittered away...
A life is not only lived in books and in the written word - it is fed by it...
There are sentences I read over and over again - masticating all the subtleties of each word and the image or concept that it renders - until it rises like yeast and becomes leaven for my soul...
I am nourished by words. I am defined by their concepts. I am stretched beyond the confines of my self-imposed limitations, and I am frequently lost within the universe of a written page...
When I am gone - simply look to my books. They will supply you will all the information that you need...
Sometimes we live our lives through what we choose to read. Or, what we choose to read, is lived through us...
I think of this, as I show a pest control agent down to my basement. My eyes catch the rows upon rows of volumes relegated to a space at the bottom of my staircase because at one point shelves on other floors overflowed beyond their maximum capacity...
My hands lovingly run through so many volumes - each one exemplifying a different epoch or area of interest in my life...
So many volumes of theological studies - spiritual treatises spanning centuries - and quite esoteric works populate these shelves. I pick one up, and look at its contents, reviewing underlined passages - fascinated by what once held my interest captive - noting how my additional years enable me to extract even more wisdom from their learned pages...
A life is lived in written words: ones we read - or ones we pen...
I have a bookshelf of writings - journals and poetry - reaching back into my early teens... Earlier writings than these manuscripts were once "lent" to a friend and I've not seen them since. Still, I have quite a cache of notebooks - and even the draft of a half-written novel in there - somewhere...
I do not go back to sample these writings - but there is much comfort in knowing they are simply there - journals which record rich spiritual years, my only pregnancy, and the life of my son during his first year. These notebooks and manuscripts sit there quietly, in their designated places. Perhaps someday, after I am gone, they will lend someone an insight into my life...
A life is truly lived in words - and in the choices we make as to what we shall read...
The time we have upon this earth is limited...
I think of this on my walk - realizing that in all probability I have more years behind me now - than I have in front of me...
And that is why I choose so wisely what I will read - because the time remaining is precious and not to be frittered away...
A life is not only lived in books and in the written word - it is fed by it...
There are sentences I read over and over again - masticating all the subtleties of each word and the image or concept that it renders - until it rises like yeast and becomes leaven for my soul...
I am nourished by words. I am defined by their concepts. I am stretched beyond the confines of my self-imposed limitations, and I am frequently lost within the universe of a written page...
When I am gone - simply look to my books. They will supply you will all the information that you need...
Comments