Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Why I want a library
I've had this blog planned out in my head for a while. I was going to lay out point by point why owning books and having a personal library is a more sophisticated way of reading; but as with most things, I don't fully know what I think about a topic until I sit down and write about it. I've found that I can't argue it's better to own books any better than a stamp collector can lay out why it's better to own 1000's of stamps. They just love stamps. I love books. It could be the world's shortest blog. The more interesting thing for me to explore is why I own a library. Or, in more descriptive terms, why I must own a library and why checking out books from the public library makes me feel so flimsy.
CS Lewis told me as a doubting freshman in college, "unless you teach your moods 'where they get off,' you can never be either a sound Christian or even a sound atheist, but just a creature dithering to and fro, with its beliefs really dependent on the weather and the state of its digestion." The moment I read that, my spiritual life turned a corner. I could finally tell the questioning voice in my head that he was a spoiled child and somewhat of a doofus. It was a glorious moment of freedom. To just give that book away feels like some sort of betrayal. I want Mere Christianity on my shelf to remind me of that moment. I want to be able to pull it off the shelf again and read it out loud. I want to be able to share that quote with a friend who wants to talk Lewis. I want, at any hour of the day, to be able to pull it off the shelf and read it, cover to cover.
Of course not every book was as formative as Mere Christianity. I keep my Daniel Boone biography simply because I read that he killed 80 bears in one summer. I like to be reminded that such people exist. Not really a life changer, but the meaning is there. Some books were favorites at different points of my childhood, some just made me laugh, some thrilled me like jumping out of an airplane, some have guided and shaped my marriage. Getting rid of a book that has meaning just feels like what I experienced didn't matter, like I'm betraying my heart. And so maybe at it's core its my little way of saying my heart matters. A monument to all the times my heart leapt a little, cried a little, or beat a little faster on a random Tuesday night.
I'm somewhat of a boring dinner party host. Small talk is lawkward for me. Lucky for me, wife is glorious in this role and can engage with most people on about any subject. I'm trying to learn from her. However, I do love to talk books (surprise, surprise). I love when people start looking at my library and suddenly they are telling me why they can't stand Hemingway, or ask me, "Who the heck is Rick Bass and why do you have twenty-five of his books?" The other day, I was over at a friend's house and while looking at his bookshelf, we mapped out the typical reading journey of most 25-35 year old, evangelical males. Started with some Lewis, progressed to more modern day, Fresh wind, Fresh Fire perhaps. Then John Piper, then Wild at Heart and other Eldridge books. Then came Blue Like Jazz and Velvet Elvis and that's about where both of us veered from the evangelical reading list. It was a great nostalgic conversation that took place only because someone had a library. Never would have happened otherwise. And this is reason #2 on why I want a library. It allows me an opportunity to talk books. Plus, guys just like have something to look at and talk about other than themselves while hosting a dinner party. Girls, having a bookshelf in the living room might help your husband relate with dinner guests (My wife is nodding her head).
As much as I love looking at past books, I also love stealing glances at the unread section of my library. Oh, the pleasure of looking at the next book to read! If you had a ticket to travel anywhere in the world wouldn't you put a map up in your room? Maybe thumbtack a few postcards up of the places at the top of your list? Yes, yes you would. How dull would it be to say, "Ahh, but I can just look at those pictures whenever I go to ______(Insert here, internet, library, photo gallery, museum, computer etc.). I want to look at those next books, think about them, wrestle in my mind a little bit where I'm going next.
Most people, however, would look at my reasons thus far and say, "So why not start by checking a book out from the library and just buy the books that are 'meaningful?'" I don't have a great answer other than, "Well, I don't want to." It feels like a summer camp romance. I can't give my heart to something that I know is leaving in a week. I learned that lesson in 6th grade at Camp Wildwood with that silly red-headed girl. In my weird mind it lacks commitment, it lacks resolve. Plus, I have such a hard time buying a book that I've already read. I'm always thinking, "But you haven't read that book over there, let's buy it instead!" And then I never get around to buying it at all unless it's on the clearance rack at Half Priced Books. No, I've learned that books rules are opposite the rules of dating: 1) Dive in fully and quickly with anything that stirs your heart and 2) cut ties quickly if you get bored for any reason.
Last and probably least, I do want the ability to loan my books to people. If I check a book out at the library, I can't give it to someone that I know will like it. There is a reason this is last. I use to kid myself when I argued this as the top reason for owning a library. But this is a little white lie. I don't loan many books because as Rick Bass pointed out, "....for the morons and diarrhea people who do not return books but treat them instead as decks of cards, pencils, chewing gum. Oh may I borrow a piece of paper? And then they never return them (Mississippi, The Watch.)."
The truth is, I've been that diarrhea person who doesn't return books. Which is why I don't just give my books away willy-nilly. I also don't want to be a book pusher. It's hard because, as you can see, I am passionate about books. If someone shows even the slightest interest in Rick Bass, I'd likely slip three of them into their car while they weren't looking. I want the freedom to lend books, but the truth is, I do it very rarely.
Just humor me and picture this for a moment: It's a bitter winter evening. You've eaten dinner and the dishes are put away. A day of work is over. The sun set a couple of hours ago. In the front of the house, there is a room the size of a large, one car garage. Inside this room, a real wood fire place crackles, making the dark wood floors warm enough to walk on with bare feet. From the floor to the ten foot ceilings are built in book shelves, also in a rich, dark wood. A ladder rests on one side of the bookshelves, inviting you to come explore the top shelves. Are there secret books up there? In front of the fire (Did I mention the fire? And that it's crackling?), two recling leather chairs sit on a large rug with an end table in between them. A simple desk near the back wall is dedicated to writing. There is no TV in this room, no internet. Multitasking seems silly here. People come here to learn the lost art of reading by fire light. The shelves are lined with with wonderful memories as well as the excitement of the unread books. In here, husbands get down right chatty with dinner guests. Books here are borrowed with ease but people respect this room enough to realize it's important to return them.
I know, some of you aren't seeing it. My wife will always love the public library. She says things like, "But just look at all those books! You can read any of them, anytime you want to, it's almost limitless!"
I agree, my love.
And that's exactly why I want one.
Happy reading,
-td
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Michael Jordan and Teddy Roosevelt
Well, the first quarter is in the books (pun intended). Nine weeks and six books at my reading level. The pace seemed frantic at first; but once I got the shorter books knocked out (Moreau & Perelandra), I took my time and enjoyed some longer books (Mornings on Horseback). I look at the six required books for 2nd quarter and my 'inner reader' (the one who could stay in every Friday night and read) has a greedy smile on his face, taping his fingers together like he is hatching a sinister plan. "What's that you say? Six more books of my choosing? Come here, my precious..." Before I get swept away into what is next; my thoughts on Mornings on Horseback, the Teddy Roosevelt (TR) biography.
Leanne Payne once said that the false masculine manifests as either restless activism or paralyzing passivity. According to her, the unhealed male psyche travels down one of these paths or some strange combination of both. While reading Mornings on Horseback, the phrase "restless activism," came to mind over and over again. His energy seemed to know no bounds, but underneath it all, McCullough painted the picture of someone striving. He emphasized things like the huge portrait of TR's deceased father that was his first decoration in the oval office. TR said he wanted to always be reminded of his guiding question, "What would my dad think of this decision?"
In his early twenties Teddy lost his twenty-two year old wife and forty-eight year old mother, all in about forty-eight hours. He buried both of them next to his father who died a few years earlier. Three days later he was working twenty hour days in New York politics, fighting every perceived injustice he could find. Once the political battles died down, he dove head first into his Dakota cattle ranch. He spent 18 hours a day on a horse, outworked every grizzled hired hand, tracked down wild west thieves, got in fist fights, and in his spare time, wrote a book about the west. In his quieter moments, he admitted that having nothing to do was the most unbearable thing in life. It gave him the old "caged wolf," feeling. He also wondered to his friends if life was worth living, if his daughter was better off with out him.
At times, the book felt parallel to Michael Jordan's hall of fame induction speech. There seems to be a level of darkness it takes to go down in history as the Greatest of All Time (GOAT). Jordan needed to manufacture insult after insult to fuel his competitiveness. And while we celebrate MJ's greatness, very few of us (until his speech) really stopped to ask the question, "What does it really take to reach that level of success?" Or, "Can you really reach that GOAT level and still be a well-centered, healthy person?"
Of course, it's easy for me to point the finger at the high functioning, driven extrovert, the restlessly active, if you will. For my own brand of off-centeredness is burying my head in a book or movie (ie paralyzed passivity), and it's not quite as celebrated as the restlessly active. Which makes me and my fellow low, energy introverts a little jealous. "How come my coping mechanisms are not celebrated by society!?"
My favorite quote from the book: "A man in a fight has little chance to be lonely." What great insight into the heart of the restlessly active. It seems to look under the hood of the great achievers and point out the fuel source. And I think that quote will stay with me as a sort of defining line for Teddy, whose list of accomplishments put him near the top of the most celebrated American lives in our nation's history. But, I didn't walk away from this book thinking, "What an amazing man," although he was certainly that. It was the source of his energy and drive that fascinated me. It was the picture in the oval office, the finishing touches of his first book that he squeezed in during his honeymoon, the caged wolf, and the depression that eked out when there was nothing left to cross off the list. I hope wherever Teddy is he has found a himself good book, a good view and a place to put his feet up. I think he might have earned it, I think he might need sometime to recover.
Thanks for reading,
-td
Leanne Payne once said that the false masculine manifests as either restless activism or paralyzing passivity. According to her, the unhealed male psyche travels down one of these paths or some strange combination of both. While reading Mornings on Horseback, the phrase "restless activism," came to mind over and over again. His energy seemed to know no bounds, but underneath it all, McCullough painted the picture of someone striving. He emphasized things like the huge portrait of TR's deceased father that was his first decoration in the oval office. TR said he wanted to always be reminded of his guiding question, "What would my dad think of this decision?"
In his early twenties Teddy lost his twenty-two year old wife and forty-eight year old mother, all in about forty-eight hours. He buried both of them next to his father who died a few years earlier. Three days later he was working twenty hour days in New York politics, fighting every perceived injustice he could find. Once the political battles died down, he dove head first into his Dakota cattle ranch. He spent 18 hours a day on a horse, outworked every grizzled hired hand, tracked down wild west thieves, got in fist fights, and in his spare time, wrote a book about the west. In his quieter moments, he admitted that having nothing to do was the most unbearable thing in life. It gave him the old "caged wolf," feeling. He also wondered to his friends if life was worth living, if his daughter was better off with out him.
At times, the book felt parallel to Michael Jordan's hall of fame induction speech. There seems to be a level of darkness it takes to go down in history as the Greatest of All Time (GOAT). Jordan needed to manufacture insult after insult to fuel his competitiveness. And while we celebrate MJ's greatness, very few of us (until his speech) really stopped to ask the question, "What does it really take to reach that level of success?" Or, "Can you really reach that GOAT level and still be a well-centered, healthy person?"
Of course, it's easy for me to point the finger at the high functioning, driven extrovert, the restlessly active, if you will. For my own brand of off-centeredness is burying my head in a book or movie (ie paralyzed passivity), and it's not quite as celebrated as the restlessly active. Which makes me and my fellow low, energy introverts a little jealous. "How come my coping mechanisms are not celebrated by society!?"
My favorite quote from the book: "A man in a fight has little chance to be lonely." What great insight into the heart of the restlessly active. It seems to look under the hood of the great achievers and point out the fuel source. And I think that quote will stay with me as a sort of defining line for Teddy, whose list of accomplishments put him near the top of the most celebrated American lives in our nation's history. But, I didn't walk away from this book thinking, "What an amazing man," although he was certainly that. It was the source of his energy and drive that fascinated me. It was the picture in the oval office, the finishing touches of his first book that he squeezed in during his honeymoon, the caged wolf, and the depression that eked out when there was nothing left to cross off the list. I hope wherever Teddy is he has found a himself good book, a good view and a place to put his feet up. I think he might have earned it, I think he might need sometime to recover.
Thanks for reading,
-td
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Choosing a Book as Practice for Life
Let me tell you why ravens are cool. There once were some mean scientists who came into possession of rock-hard, stale bread. They broke the bread into pieces and fed it to unsuspecting birds at a local park. The mean scientists giggled as a poor robin frantically pecked at the granite bread that was much too hard to eat. A sparrow came and pecked until his beak was bent and their laughing turned to howling. A cardinal attacked the bread with vigor and they told the poor red fellow that his mom was some sort of deranged wood pecker (I'm assuming this is an insult in bird world).
When a raven landed, however, a hush fell over the scientists. The size of the raven (some as large as a red tailed hawk) was a bit jarring, it was like the robin's big brother showed up. The jet black, wet eyes, looked at them completely unimpressed. He sauntered over to the bread devoid of twitchy, nervous bird movements. The raven pecked at the bread. Too hard. The raven tried another piece, nothing. The raven then picked up the bread, and flew to a nearby bird bath. He placed the hard bread in the water of the bird bath, watched it soak for a few minutes, then swallowed the mushy bread whole. Too cool to even waste his time with a scientist mom joke, the raven flew away. Check mate mean scientists.
After watching this scene on National Geographic (and yes the scientists were demonized...slightly) I then spent the next hour watching YouTube videos of ravens doing the craziest things. They solved logic puzzles to get food, played catch with ping pong balls and even completed one of those toy balls with the different shaped pieces that fit into matching slots. It was a great extended Friday lunch break. Turns out a raven's intelligence rivals that of the smartest mammals, chimpanzees, dolphins, elephants etc.
Last week, while strolling through Borders' going out of business sale, I came upon a book titled, Mind of a Raven by bird expert Bernd Heinrich. The book chronicles Heinrich's experience raising ravens in his home and observing them in the wild all over the earth. With a quick scan of the cover I discovered the book was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, a New York Times Noteable Book of theYear and won the John Burroughs Medal for natural history writing. I looked at the price and found the book was 70% percent off. I then held the book up above my head and shouted, "CHECK PLEASE!" My fellow book store scavenger placed the book he was looking at on the shelf, and slowly made his way to next section while trying to avoid eye contact. I remembered I was not in a restaurant and made my way to the checkout counter.
I share this story with you because it is a perfect example of my process of choosing a book. And if choosing a book is indeed like having a blank check to travel anywhere in the world then it is imperative that we have a process. You cannot just open a map, close your eyes and pick a spot. You could end up somewhere awful like Lawrence, Kansas. It's simply too dangerous. Being able to go anywhere in the world is an honor that shouldn't be degraded to blind luck.
Choosing a Book Rule #1: Listen to Your Heart.
As seen in the example above, Ravens have thoroughly captured my imagination and so I did not stop to think, "Man that raven book looks cool, but I really should give Dickens a try, I've been meaning to for so long..." No SHOULDS! Ravens, Ravens, Ravens!!!! This is a perfect example of the ever trite but ever true, Choosing a Book Rule #1: Listen to your heart. This is it. This is the one area of your life to run wild with all the strange raven like things that capture your heart. And don't kid yourself, this isn't easy for most of us. It's a muscle that has to be developed. It's so easy to begin the process by asking, "What SHOULD I read next." Nothing lines the artery wall of your heart like a "should." Try this: go to a half priced book store with the goal of buying one book that you never thought of reading before. Simply stroll through every aisle and flirt with every book that catches your eye. I assure you, once you eliminate every should, once you stop thinking there is one right answer, it is a joyous stroll. A great practice exercise in listening and honoring your heart.
Rule #2: Let your heart be swayed by those who have gone before you.
When I picked up the Mind of a Raven, I saw that it won awards and received glowing reviews from sources that I trust. Had this book been poorly reviewed, I would have probably put it back on the shelf and looked for another raven book. Why shouldn't I take advantage of the millions of readers who have gone before me? I want classics, I want the Los Angeles Times Book of the Year, I want Pulitzer Prizes, I want two straight years atop the New York Times bestseller list. Why would you choose Shawnee Mission Lake when thousands of people are telling you Bora Bora could possibly be the most beautiful place on earth?
Now these voices can come in different forms other than well esteemed awards and book reviewers. If a close friend or family member, who knows my strange intricacies, gives me a strong book recommendation, I want to receive it and allow it to shape my heart's desire. For example, five weeks ago my mother-in-law gave me Laura Hillenbrand's, WWII, Louie Zamperini biography, Unbroken. At the time I was a little worn out on WWII having just read, The Making of the Atomic Bomb. But I decided to give it a try based on the strength of the recommendation. And praise the Lord, it was one of the best recommendations I have ever received. I got to ride shotgun for perhaps the greatest WWII journey you will ever read. I felt like a rock taking a long tumble down a jagged mountain side, landing in a sweet, serene mountain pond. Once I was finished I told my Dad something like, "You must read this book right this instant. No I'm serious. I'm going to stand here and stare at you until you begin." After that, my extensive Louie Zamperini You Tube extravaganza began.
But it seems, at first glance that this goes against rule number one. "So, follow your heart but listen to recommendations? I thought I only had to read what I wanted to?" Ideally, our hearts are not a closed system. There must be a softness of heart that allows those who have gone before us a chance to awaken desires in our heart. And naturally, not everyone deserves book recommendation authority. Which leads me to book choosing rule number 3:
Book Choosing Rule #3: Avoid Random Book Pushers
There are a lot of well-meaning book pushers out there, but you simply cannot allow swine to cast their stinky pearls upon you. Recommendation authority must come from those who know you and those whose taste you explicitly trust. A neighbor or overzealous co-worker can bully you into an awful book if you do not stick to the system. When someone I don't know says, "you should read this book!!" I'm thinking to myself, "No I shouldn't." They are like an annoying third cousin who hears about your freedom to travel anywhere in the world and corners you at Thanksgiving saying, "You MUST (should) go to Paris." No I shouldn't. I have no desire to go to Paris and I'm not going to should myself to Paris.
The next phase of the annoying book pusher is the "generous book giver." This well intentioned soul comes up to you unannounced and hands you their book recommendation with the force of a used car salesman. Many thoughts enter my mind at this point, very few of them I am proud of, but they go something like this: "Are you asking me to stop what I'm reading now (i.e. leave Bora Bora) and read this (i.e. go to Paris)? Would you like me to just start reading right now in front of you? What are you, the book fairy? I stopped believing in you in 2nd grade." This is like the annoying third cousin, buying you a ticket to Paris. Sure it's generous, but not only do I not want to go to Paris, but now, I think I hate Paris. This person has wonderful intentions no doubt, but you have the amazing honor to travel anywhere in the world. Only a select few should have a say in where you might go. And if you can't set those boundaries? If you can't stand up for yourself? Well then, good bye Bora Bora, hello, Lawrence Kansas.
It's not a complicated system. Honor and protect the movements of your heart. Heed those you trust, who know and love you, and have gone before you. Ignore 3rd cousin book fairies. Consider it all practice for life. Who doesn't need a little practice honoring and listening to their heart? Who doesn't need practice humbly allowing the words of those who love us to sway our hearts? Who couldn't stand a little practice in setting boundaries for pushy people?
It's worth it, ladies and gentlemen.
When a raven landed, however, a hush fell over the scientists. The size of the raven (some as large as a red tailed hawk) was a bit jarring, it was like the robin's big brother showed up. The jet black, wet eyes, looked at them completely unimpressed. He sauntered over to the bread devoid of twitchy, nervous bird movements. The raven pecked at the bread. Too hard. The raven tried another piece, nothing. The raven then picked up the bread, and flew to a nearby bird bath. He placed the hard bread in the water of the bird bath, watched it soak for a few minutes, then swallowed the mushy bread whole. Too cool to even waste his time with a scientist mom joke, the raven flew away. Check mate mean scientists.
After watching this scene on National Geographic (and yes the scientists were demonized...slightly) I then spent the next hour watching YouTube videos of ravens doing the craziest things. They solved logic puzzles to get food, played catch with ping pong balls and even completed one of those toy balls with the different shaped pieces that fit into matching slots. It was a great extended Friday lunch break. Turns out a raven's intelligence rivals that of the smartest mammals, chimpanzees, dolphins, elephants etc.
Last week, while strolling through Borders' going out of business sale, I came upon a book titled, Mind of a Raven by bird expert Bernd Heinrich. The book chronicles Heinrich's experience raising ravens in his home and observing them in the wild all over the earth. With a quick scan of the cover I discovered the book was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, a New York Times Noteable Book of theYear and won the John Burroughs Medal for natural history writing. I looked at the price and found the book was 70% percent off. I then held the book up above my head and shouted, "CHECK PLEASE!" My fellow book store scavenger placed the book he was looking at on the shelf, and slowly made his way to next section while trying to avoid eye contact. I remembered I was not in a restaurant and made my way to the checkout counter.
I share this story with you because it is a perfect example of my process of choosing a book. And if choosing a book is indeed like having a blank check to travel anywhere in the world then it is imperative that we have a process. You cannot just open a map, close your eyes and pick a spot. You could end up somewhere awful like Lawrence, Kansas. It's simply too dangerous. Being able to go anywhere in the world is an honor that shouldn't be degraded to blind luck.
Choosing a Book Rule #1: Listen to Your Heart.
As seen in the example above, Ravens have thoroughly captured my imagination and so I did not stop to think, "Man that raven book looks cool, but I really should give Dickens a try, I've been meaning to for so long..." No SHOULDS! Ravens, Ravens, Ravens!!!! This is a perfect example of the ever trite but ever true, Choosing a Book Rule #1: Listen to your heart. This is it. This is the one area of your life to run wild with all the strange raven like things that capture your heart. And don't kid yourself, this isn't easy for most of us. It's a muscle that has to be developed. It's so easy to begin the process by asking, "What SHOULD I read next." Nothing lines the artery wall of your heart like a "should." Try this: go to a half priced book store with the goal of buying one book that you never thought of reading before. Simply stroll through every aisle and flirt with every book that catches your eye. I assure you, once you eliminate every should, once you stop thinking there is one right answer, it is a joyous stroll. A great practice exercise in listening and honoring your heart.
Rule #2: Let your heart be swayed by those who have gone before you.
When I picked up the Mind of a Raven, I saw that it won awards and received glowing reviews from sources that I trust. Had this book been poorly reviewed, I would have probably put it back on the shelf and looked for another raven book. Why shouldn't I take advantage of the millions of readers who have gone before me? I want classics, I want the Los Angeles Times Book of the Year, I want Pulitzer Prizes, I want two straight years atop the New York Times bestseller list. Why would you choose Shawnee Mission Lake when thousands of people are telling you Bora Bora could possibly be the most beautiful place on earth?
Now these voices can come in different forms other than well esteemed awards and book reviewers. If a close friend or family member, who knows my strange intricacies, gives me a strong book recommendation, I want to receive it and allow it to shape my heart's desire. For example, five weeks ago my mother-in-law gave me Laura Hillenbrand's, WWII, Louie Zamperini biography, Unbroken. At the time I was a little worn out on WWII having just read, The Making of the Atomic Bomb. But I decided to give it a try based on the strength of the recommendation. And praise the Lord, it was one of the best recommendations I have ever received. I got to ride shotgun for perhaps the greatest WWII journey you will ever read. I felt like a rock taking a long tumble down a jagged mountain side, landing in a sweet, serene mountain pond. Once I was finished I told my Dad something like, "You must read this book right this instant. No I'm serious. I'm going to stand here and stare at you until you begin." After that, my extensive Louie Zamperini You Tube extravaganza began.
But it seems, at first glance that this goes against rule number one. "So, follow your heart but listen to recommendations? I thought I only had to read what I wanted to?" Ideally, our hearts are not a closed system. There must be a softness of heart that allows those who have gone before us a chance to awaken desires in our heart. And naturally, not everyone deserves book recommendation authority. Which leads me to book choosing rule number 3:
Book Choosing Rule #3: Avoid Random Book Pushers
There are a lot of well-meaning book pushers out there, but you simply cannot allow swine to cast their stinky pearls upon you. Recommendation authority must come from those who know you and those whose taste you explicitly trust. A neighbor or overzealous co-worker can bully you into an awful book if you do not stick to the system. When someone I don't know says, "you should read this book!!" I'm thinking to myself, "No I shouldn't." They are like an annoying third cousin who hears about your freedom to travel anywhere in the world and corners you at Thanksgiving saying, "You MUST (should) go to Paris." No I shouldn't. I have no desire to go to Paris and I'm not going to should myself to Paris.
The next phase of the annoying book pusher is the "generous book giver." This well intentioned soul comes up to you unannounced and hands you their book recommendation with the force of a used car salesman. Many thoughts enter my mind at this point, very few of them I am proud of, but they go something like this: "Are you asking me to stop what I'm reading now (i.e. leave Bora Bora) and read this (i.e. go to Paris)? Would you like me to just start reading right now in front of you? What are you, the book fairy? I stopped believing in you in 2nd grade." This is like the annoying third cousin, buying you a ticket to Paris. Sure it's generous, but not only do I not want to go to Paris, but now, I think I hate Paris. This person has wonderful intentions no doubt, but you have the amazing honor to travel anywhere in the world. Only a select few should have a say in where you might go. And if you can't set those boundaries? If you can't stand up for yourself? Well then, good bye Bora Bora, hello, Lawrence Kansas.
It's not a complicated system. Honor and protect the movements of your heart. Heed those you trust, who know and love you, and have gone before you. Ignore 3rd cousin book fairies. Consider it all practice for life. Who doesn't need a little practice honoring and listening to their heart? Who doesn't need practice humbly allowing the words of those who love us to sway our hearts? Who couldn't stand a little practice in setting boundaries for pushy people?
It's worth it, ladies and gentlemen.
Bora Bora is waiting for us...
Thanks for making it this far.
Happy reading,
-td
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