I’ve had a love/boredom relationship with books.  At times a favourite author would overwhelm everyone else, and absorb my soul.

Da Free John, Stephen King, Ken Wilber, Jack Kornfield, Jiddu Krishnamurti …

And then came long periods when I couldn’t care less.  About five years ago, I looked at my full bookshelves, realized that there were countless volumes that I hadn’t read, and would never read.  And so, an executive decision:

I gave them all away – at least 200

Since arriving in Belgium in 2023, an old habit has reared its lovely head: buy books.  As Walt Whitman said …

I am inconsistent, I contain multitudes

One more time, the dreaded word accumulation:

“Gradually collecting things over time”

And sadly, not a very discriminating collecting.  Bloated once more – not as bad as yesteryear … but still fat.

Four days ago, I went lean and lovely.  And the Oxfam store of used stuff was the beneficiary.  You see the result in this photo.  When I gaze upon these volumes, I feel the power of authors who align with me.  We don’t always agree, but we’re together.  Companions.  Brothers and sisters.

If you can enlarge the photo, you’ll see author names.  Philip Pullman and Cornelia Funke dominate but there are other superstars of the heart.  Plus two coiled books of song lyrics.

I smile when I see the expanse that you’re gazing upon.  Only one name is missing.  Months ago, a young man asked me “What one book would you recommend I read?”  The answer came easily: The Wise Heart by Jack Kornfield.  So I gave my copy to him for a few weeks.

Then he disappeared from my life, along with Jack’s words.  (Sigh)  But in the spirit of happy endings, Amazon is delivering The Wise Heart on Thursday.  I will slip it in among the others.

The family will be together

And I will sleep well