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.
ia Sophia has arrived. This “Way of Wisdom” offers an invitation to step upon a Living Spiral Path and discover a new understanding of what it means to embody the Mystical Feminine.
For the past fifteen years I have lived and taught within the Mystical Feminine. I have sat within many circles and immersions with women as we explored how to practically and powerfully engage Feminine wisdom in everyday life.
When my daughter was in eighth grade, she and her Girl Scout troop were beginning to explore ideas for their individual Silver Award projects.
Around our dinner table, we tossed around possibilities. Nothing landed. Nothing stirred real interest. So we encouraged her to do what we have always trusted. Stay open. Listen. Pay attention to what people are talking about in the world.
Driving into Soul Sanctuary last weekend, I noticed the trees were engaged in a wild dance.
I should have paid closer attention as I got out of the car, because the wind nearly took me with it. Walking to the door, I had to lean in and brace myself for a moment just to stay upright. The cold whipped through my clothes and found every uncovered space, sharing its bone-numbing chill.
We recently had a big snow in my neck of the woods.
Everyone was hunkered down. The fridge was full, chicken soup was bubbling on the stove, and my book pile sat patiently on the coffee table. As the snow covered the neighborhood and the plows dumped fresh mounds over our carefully shoveled walk, we took turns peeking outside.
As a kid, snowstorms were pure joy.
“I think we need to be friends.”
Those were the first words out of my mouth when I introduced myself to Rev. Hilda Covington. We’d just finished a county meeting of nonprofit mental health and social service agencies. She was the presenter that month. We almost didn’t meet because Hilda arrived an hour and a half late to a two-hour meeting.
Life has a rhythm. It speeds up and slows down according to mysterious forces.
Your personal rhythm dances with the celestial bodies, seasons of the year, developmental phases, and the pulse of your Soulful evolutionary process. Living in harmony with these rhythms is in many ways hard to understand as it is a complicated and deeply personal process. Your rhythm dances with everyone’s rhythm in the grand Cosmic Dance.
