Friday, June 16, 2017

“A library is not a luxury but one of the necessities of life.”

~ Henry Ward Beecher

Yesterday I was at the library. As I walked and browsed, my body taking on the familiar ‘library stance’ of bending slightly at the waist and tipping my head just so such that I could read the titles on the spines of the books on the shelves, I became aware of a calm blanketing me.

There are so many thoughts, so many opportunities to learn, on those shelves and, while a peace at being in a place that has long been a refuge comes over me when I walk through the doors of the library, I feel possibility too.

Time falls away. The whispers of immeasurable voices invite me to pluck a book from the shelf and enter into another world where I can learn something new or lose myself in the magic of story.

I felt another pull–a prompting to write–and I remembered the many hours spent at the library when I was writing my book. There’s something special about writing at the library. Maybe it’s time to return.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. Maybe I should try that! I have prime nature preserve view from my writing studio window. Still, it gets familiar. Maybe I need to shake things up a bit.

  2. It’s the quiet and the lack of distractions. I should try that too!

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