Sunday, March 10, 2013


Doubt creeps in as I circle the parking lot looking for a spot, in the rain.  I asked the barista what the coffee of the day was and come to find out it's the same every day.  "Why have a coffee of the day?" I thought.  No matter, I'm drinking it black anyway.  I think she was kind of amused by my questioning.  Another, older woman, asked me how I was doing like we were old friends...perhaps we are.  To which I replied, with a smile,  "I'm getting by.  Looking for a new treasure."  She chuckled a little bit but I could see in her eyes she felt the same way about books.  Forget gold, money or jewels, if I'm being buried with something to take to the next life I want books.  I carried on looking.

I didn't find anything that really piqued my interest enough to take with me.  I did pick up and read through a book of poetry that I was diggin'.  I made my way over to the philosophy section and reached for a copy of Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance.  I've had this on my list for a long time, I really want to read it.  I thumbed through it and put it back, not in it's original place.  And I didn't have to hear someone behind me bitch because of where I put it.  It was a counter to the doubt the crept in earlier. 

There is actually a reason behind why I move books, believe it or not.  75% of the books I have ever bought weren't even in the right section let alone in its alphabetical home.  I don't think I ever come to a bookstore looking for something specific.  I wander around until I find something, often out of place.  I'm out of place, its how I am so it makes harmonious sense to me.  The books that I move are usually something I've read, wanting to share it with the next unknowing , wandering soul. 

So I sit without a book, writing...on a phone.  Which does sound silly but it works.  Wondering why I haven't ventured into a book in a long while I started thinking.  How might I keep reading the work of others when I have this book, my poetry, inside of me?  Not that it's impossible to balance, but I don't want to spend my time reading, I want to spend it writing.  I am so grateful I've got this to help me through tough times.  Putting it all out there in black and white makes me really see what's going on inside.  It's easier to sort out.  And I get to share here, with those few of you reading.  It's a beautiful thing, really.


  1. A truly beautiful thing!

  2. Writing makes sense of the chaos. The black and white, the raw emotion- it puts things into perspective and it sorts out the madness, it's a gorgeous thing. I love reading what you have to say, the good, the bad, the ugly, the adorable (Gwen) keep at it and keep smiling, my friend :) xx

  3. I agree with Kayla 100% - writing really does help us make sense of the chaos. It's a great way is helping us remain centered in the midst of all the change around us.

  4. I've had that book on my list for a long time too. I started it years ago, decided to put it back for another day. I love finding books that are out of place–those are the treasures that I always feel so lucky to have found. And sometimes I'm just happy wandering through a bookstore, looking and leaving empty handed.

    I agree with what the others said about writing–most definitely!

  5. p.s. Have you ever read Fernando Pessoa's "The Book of Disquiet"? A fellow blogger brought Pessoa to my awareness, this book in particular. I won't say much more about the book in case you already know about it, but if you don't, you might like it.

    1. No, I have not. Maybe I'll check it out.

  6. A long time ago I listened to the audiobook 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance'. It was on a roadtrip with my then boyfriend during a rocky, terrible, hard patch. As we drove through South Africa the gentle, thoughtful words lay around me like leaves from a tree. Protecting me momentarily from the harsh winter of our brokenness...

    I have escaped into characters, books, lives I have not lived... all my life. It is where I seek refuge, sanity, understanding, company when I feel alone. There is nothing like the smell of books, nothing like the comfort of finding your souls mirror, or the flight of a magical dream in the pages of someone else's soul...