Allow A Book To Help

Today I am filled with dread, after tossing and turning the night before (lying in bed eight hours, but only sleeping two). My thoughts many, one after the other falling on my mind like a ton of bricks. I envisioned what I might be experiencing was a perpetual nightmare (and in many ways it was/is), but I knew it couldn’t be because I got out of bed in the middle of the night making my way to the kitchen for a cup of hot tea to calm my weary spirit, walking through the apartment between stacks of books piled high, reminding me of what’s to come.

I spent yesterday emptying closets and cabinets, and moving furniture away from walls. What I thought I would loathe most was relocating clothes and shoes. I have entirely too much of both! It boarders on sinful. My real nemesis was the library of books, and I have entirely too many of those, too. Or do I?

What I describe sounds like a move, and in many ways I wish it was... Boy, do I! This bad dream is anything but, and remains not a hallucination, but my reality for the time being.

Sadly, my apartment is experiencing major moisture issues, creating a moldy nightmare. As I ponder the unfortunate I realize it’s not about the reshuffling of objects, the chemicals to control/deactivate the spores, disruption to my life, lack of empathy (not from all parties, but one in particular), this common cold that’s making my head feel like it’s about to explode, the limited control I have over the situation, or even the mold for that matter.

What consumes my spirit most (to its very core) is the lack of accountability and the swift action that should have been in place when the mold was first reported, but instead became a back burner issue.

With all that’s occurred I realized I must find a place of retreat, moving away from the negative and drifting into the positive... Easier said than done, my friend. I know it can be accomplished because I’m never without hope. It might not always appear that way on the outside, but I think we all have the ability to find that, which at times can be distant and eluding. The goal for finding such salvation begins when you search your collective self for things that bring you the most joy and inspiration.

It didn’t take make me too long to locate my source for renewed energy, helping me to weather this storm of discontent. The too many books I referenced earlier in this post have come to my rescue, lessening my consternation.

In the early AM I sat in my garden of books, thinking about how they grew? This definitely was a labor of love beginning with childhood. I pulled a few children’s books from one of the mounds (The Grown-Up Day by Jack Kent, The Land of Lost Buttons by Alvin Tresselt, Arm in Arm by Remy Charlip and The December Dog by Jan M. Robinson) and began to read aloud. These are not very old stories, but ones that gave me confidence and a voice.

My journey continued as I read a few excerpts from James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl and The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and The Magician’s Nephew being my favorites).

I continued to more adult fare, pulling book after book: The Pop-Up Book of Nightmares by Gary Greenberg, Vermeer (The Complete Paintings) by Norbert Schneider, Paintings in the Louvre by Lawrence Gowing, The Amiable Baltimoreans by Francis F. Beirne, Historic Baltimore by Priscilla L. Miles, Druid Hill Park (The Heart of Historic Baltimore) by Eden Unger Bowditch and Anne Draddy, and The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes by Arnold Rampessad. These reads helped to create the great escape I so desperately needed today.

There is always diversion and jubilation to be found when you connect your past to books. Each day I look at my library with warm, mirthful memories that flood my mind instantaneously. I am reminded of that which must never be taken for granted: a mother’s love of reading and passing that along to her children, my first book I learned to read by (A Pig in a Jig), escaping into a story when days were less than desirable (like today), receiving a book as a gift from a friend who loved the story so much they couldn’t wait to share and after reading brought the two of us closer together, and choosing books when traveling for vacation or business meetings. I could go on and on, but I digress.

Books in general remind me of happy and sad times, love and loss, but more than anything they awaken the power of knowledge, the essence of everything I learned and hold dear.

So as the walls are being treated and my home is in absolute chaos, I will slip away from it all for an afternoon interlude and delve into my book of choice, Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach. It just seemed appropriate for the day.

By midnight tonight my house will be back in order, and I will begin tomorrow thankful for making it through because I normally do, and you will too when you shift your focus into something more positive and meaningful. Allow a book to help. Cheers! – paerki

Related Post: A 'Seagull' Of Memories