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On Sunday I had a patch of time to myself, about an hour and a half before hubby returned from his errand, and we went out and about together. I could have studied, could have read, cleaned. Instead, I felt a pull to the garage to organize boxes of books. There were many empty boxes that were scattered, that made it look as though there was more clutter than there actually was.

I started breaking down the empty boxes, then I began looking through the boxes of books, tying again to find more books to let go of. I was able to find two small boxes full of books that I felt it was time to part with, books that I knew I wasn’t going to read, that had a time and place in my life, and I would only keep transporting them from home to home, possibly not giving them a proper home for themselves, confining my dear books to these lifeless boxes. It was time for these books to find new homes.

I was also able to consolidate some books to other boxes, marking them so that I would easily be able to find what I was looking for if the urge arose. Also, to hubby’s dismay, because I would only be brining more clutter into the house, I brought two boxes of books inside. I put them in the living room and waiting for him to scold me. I told him I would find a place for them. The living room was off limits. I know how I can be, so the next morning I unpacked the boxes, stacked the books on my side of the bed to deal with later that day. I don’t have any more shelf space, so I added to the stack in the corner on top of the small desk that I don’t’ actually use, and the rest are stacked in front of that stack. I really didn’t bring all that many books back into the house. I don’t like packing the boxes too heavy. In fact, I’ve let go of a lot of books. It’s bitter sweet; at the same time it feels good to let go of these books that have been there for me, that have brought me joy–even the books that I never got around to reading all the way through. Now, they can bring someone else happiness when they’re browsing the shelves of the local thrift store.

Each time I’m ready, I will continue looking through my boxes of books, tying to let go of more. Eventually, I will be left with only a few that I cannot part with–at least, not until I’m ready.

Yesterday before work, I went to the top section of a long shelf that shares books with clothes. It’s where I keep some of my inspirational writing books. I pulled from the shelf: One Continuous Mistake: Four Noble Truths for Writers by Gail Sher. Then I went to the bottom section of the shelf where I keep the few books I have on poetry. I pulled Mary Oliver’s New and Selected Poems: Volume One. With these in hand, I read a few pages from each to start my day. I love how Gail Sher describes writing. She says, “Writing is infinite, ever elusive, and ungraspable. We can never know what writing is. We can only know our experience minute to minute, as we write” (pg. 6). I nodded my head with a big smile as I read over her words again. She sums it up perfectly, and that’s one of the many reasons I love writing for the constant discovery that writing offers, as long as we keep our pens moving and our minds free.

I’ve only dipped sparingly into Mary Oliver’s poetry. I’ve had her book for several years, but as with certain books, I go at them at different paces. I’m ready to visit longer. What little of her poetry I have read, it is so incredibly beautiful and touches my soul.

During a break at work I wrote and posted “Small Slice of Solace.”

Writing and books are often on my mind throughout the day, sometimes they slip away, but yesterday, it seemed there was a constant stream.

After work, I was ready to visit Barnes & Noble and use my gift card that I’ve been hanging on to for the right moment. I was pretty confident that I would be walking out of there with a cookbook, but I didn’t even feel pulled to that section. I almost purchased a small light that is supposed to create calm. Where I really wanted to go was to the writing section. There’s just something about writing books that I adore. I love hearing inspirational stories and words of wisdom from writing books. I wasn’t looking for any one book. I sat on the floor and started looking through the possibilities. I saw a book that I had checked out of the library that I never finished before returning it: Several Short Sentences about Writing by Verlyn Klinkenborg. I remember it being a fun book with a unique approach and it really is as the title suggests. Next I saw a book that I hadn’t seen before or maybe I had and wasn’t interested at the time: Around the Writer’s Block: Using Brain Science to Solve Writer’s Resistance*

*Including Writer’s Block, Procrastination, Paralysis, Perfectionism, Postponing, Distractions, Self-Sabotage, Excessive Criticism, Overscheduling, and Endlessly Delaying Your Writing

by Rosanne Bane.

Now how could I resist a title like that!

I think I’m really going to like this one. I’ve only just begun and I feel ignited.

And so, these were the two books that I chose.

Yesterday was a full course of reading, writing, books, and nature. I felt refreshed, inspired, rejuvenated.

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