True confession. I’m a book nerd.
Reading is one of the great pleasures of my life. As long as I remember, I’ve devoured books. My home is filled with artistic book piles in most rooms. Set there to lure me onto the couch in order to gain a little knowledge or get lost in an imaginative adventure.
I’ll trade sleep for a good book and often am running late to an event because “I’m at a good part.”
I never hop on a plane without two books. One to study and one to invite me into a new world. I overpack books on vacations so that I can choose the read of the day from my traveling library. For practicality’s sake, I tried, against my better judgment, to train myself to use a Nook but I missed the paper and ink too much.
It’s no wonder I view book stores as my playground.
Some of my best writing and creative projects have occurred in the cafe at my local Barnes and Noble. It’s as if I enter a zone or portal of creativity whenever I settle in to write there. I can work for hours, almost unaware of others around me, only to surface for an enjoyable break perusing the shelves. It doesn’t matter what department I enter, I find the perfect books and read a few pages. It’s a habit, I guess. Gathering a pile of books to “look at” and heading down a rabbit hole while sitting on the floor, engrossed by someone’s research or creative expression of genius.
I think this is where my career as a secret librarian began. In Barnes and Noble.
While my eyes scan the book shelf, I inadvertently notice authors out of alphabetical order or a disorganized display (gasp). Perhaps the books are left haphazardly laying upon the rows, even from other sections, as if someone dropped them there without regard. This desire to neaten and place books where they belong also arises in the public library, but doesn’t seem to cross over to other areas of my life.
I think it’s a love affair with the written word that has me working incognito.
If I followed my bliss and spent more time at Barnes and Noble, their shelves would probably be in really great shape. It seems like a perfect volunteer position when I decide to retire. The only downside is that I’d probably discover something else to study and head back to work.
I’ve seen those cute little bird house libraries and even toyed with putting one in front of my home.
That didn’t make much sense as I live on a quiet street where everyone can easily access books of their choosing. Or pop in their lovely vehicles to head to the public library or favorite bookstore. Anyway, I’m not so good with building birdhouses, even if they’re going to be filled with books.
Imagine my surprise when I noticed a little library appear at the playing fields where I sometimes walked.
People head there to walk their pets or themselves. Kids, teens, and adults use the field for personal training. Mostly it’s empty when we venture there for a nature stroll, but sometimes it is filled with the enthusiastic hustle and bustle of kids or teens practicing their favorite sport.
A summer evening may fill the place with kids practicing football, lacrosse, soccer, or cheerleading.
Game days bring the parents, siblings, and grandparents who overflow beyond the small bleachers to lawn chairs. It’s fun to watch and brings back memories of the thrill of little league games and working in the snack bar.
So, I’m already primed for enjoyment walking by that tiny free library. It draws me in.
I saw a bunch of old adult books. The kind you clean out after 20 years of sitting in your study. They sat there for weeks. Nothing coming in and nothing coming out. Plus they weren’t displayed well. Just sayin’. With all these hundreds of kids and teens running around, some old Tom Clancy books weren’t fitting the bill. So, I tried an experiment. I found some young adult fiction I had read in pristine shape.
A week later, the books were missing. Tom Clancy remained.
When I read fiction, which is the only book I’ll pass on, you’d never know it was read. I take off the cover and use a book mark. It’s a book nerd thing. I started to experiment. Dropping off a trilogy with really fat books looking brand new. They disappeared. I rustled through the books my kid never read. Hardbacks. Fiction. Biographies of brave girls. All gone.
I only drop books when no one is around. Hence the secret part of my librarian title.
And I send each book with a wealth of wishes. I talk to the book(s) as I head over to the tiny house. “I hope you find the perfect home and inspire someone to know how creative they are. I hope you help someone discover a love of reading .. create new authors .. encourage innovation .. alleviate loneliness .. open minds. I hope you travel well and enjoy your adventure.”
Of course I cleaned up that dusty box so whomever it serves has a lovely library that respects the books and their readers.
Not everyone supports the idea of free little libraries.
Some dissenters feel they take away from services offered by the free public library system. Or are a harbinger of attempts to gentrify urban neighborhoods. Two librarians from Canada described these cute little birdhouse free libraries as “a highly visible form of self-gratification cleverly disguised as book aid.” Most supported the idea of these as a resource or an enjoyable hobby or just another way to share a love of creative projects, good reads, and generosity.
I guess since I just outed my secret about tending to a little free library in a diverse neighborhood, I’m now engaged in a highly visible project of self-gratification.
Yup. I’m unapologetic. I love books. I love little cute libraries. I love being a secret librarian. And I love my public library.
I’ll skip the cute tiny libraries in affluent neighborhoods and stick to the two I’ve found that serve a more diverse economic population. I’ve got no regrets, even as I acknowledge my flagrant self-gratification as a book nerd do gooder. Imagining children, teens, or adults grabbing a good book warms my little librarian heart.
In the end, I don’t really care who takes my books, if they are returned, or where they travel.
I just trust they will land in the perfect hands to be read at the perfect time. As long as they disappear and I’ve got (good) books to share, I’m hired. I’ll let you decide where you land in this (mild) controversy about cute mini houses with free books. Read all about it here.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Excess screen time for teens has detrimental effects. I bet you know that already. Especially with US teens averaging 7-8 hours/day. Ouch. University of Queensland researchers conducted a global study which found some benefits for teen screen time. In the first hour. Detrimental effects snuck in after 75 minutes for girls and 105 minutes for boys. Things like poor diet, obesity, depression, and decreased cognitive and physical abilities. The best combo? An hour of physical activity and no more than 2 hours screen time contributed to teens wellbeing. I bet those kids at the playing field who snag a good book are headed into the wellbeing category. For book nerds like me? Put down the book, get off that couch, and go take a walk!
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
In September, I’m returning to the Temples of Humankind in Damanhur, Italy. It feels like an understatement to claim that this is a place of power, mystery, and majesty. Yet, I’ve found this to be true for myself and those I’ve met who’ve traveled within the extraordinary to the Temples and the community of Damanhur.
One cool Spring morning, I stepped on the treadmill at the gym looking forward to walking a few miles. Recovering from an injury, I had to walk at a moderate pace so I had brought my copy of What Is Enlightenment? magazine to explore. I always found something to inspire me within this publication focused upon consciousness, culture, and cosmos.
Stress is a natural experience in life. It’s often viewed as a doorway to disruption of wellbeing, peace of mind, and a clear navigational path in a challenging situation.
I’m a bit of a news hound these days. As one who hasn’t watched a newscast in years, I’m surprising myself. Ordinarily, I wait for the news to come to me. And it does. When something is important for me to know or respond to, I hear about it. Kind friends, clients, my husband, or a random stranger share a soundbite which cues me to look into a situation further. I’ve been very comfortable with this level of engagement for years now.
In the midst of our country’s woes, I’ve got Lucinda Williams singing in my head.
“You can’t rule me
you wanna go and tell me what’s good for me
you wanna tell me what I’m payin’ for
Well, the game is fixed, it’s plain to see
I ain’t playin’ no more”
I drove through a hail storm today. It began gently, offering a musical accompaniment to my journey. Intensifying, the hail noisily demanded my attention.
