The gift of a good book

Sometimes life gets away from me. It spins forward and I find myself working, going to school, eating, sleeping..... repeat. Even when I travel it spins. And I miss things. Forget to smell the flowers. Skip over the details. Become a rat in the race. It's not the way I want to live. Its not the version of myself I want to be.

When life gets like this I find I read less. For some people this is not a big deal. For me it is. Reading is a gift I give myself. A book surrounds me like a warm blanket and lets me leave my spinning world behind.

I didn't realize until recently how much I had stopped reading during the school year. There was a running commentary a colleague and I had about only getting to read during Christmas and summer break. Maybe it was because books absorb me or maybe it was because I was too tired to read when I got home. I can't put my finger on it, but I can tell you the tide has turned.

Recently a friend recommended The Hunger Games and I couldn't put it down. Which was unfortunate because I started reading it at 10:30pm and finished it at 5am the next day. I then had to read the other two books in the trilogy but waited for the weekend to come. They consumed me and took my breath away. They reminded me how much I love to read.

I realized that books are a gift we give ourselves. Or at least a gift I give myself. They let me slow down and stop the spinning in my life. Books remind me to smell the flowers and smile at strangers. And above all, take me to a place in my imagination that gets dusty with out them.

To see what I'm reading, check me out on Shelfari.

1 comment:

  1. I like the idea of books as gifts. Thanks for the reminder to enjoy reading.