A Beautiful Morning to Realize My Love for Collecting Books.

This morning, I woke up with the biting emotion of wanting to devote more time to the books I have. I know it isn’t possible given my schedule and circumstances, but I could feel the weight of this longing, and it left me both sad and hopeful at the same time.

What a chocolate candy does to the mind and behavior of a five year old, the proximity to a book does the same to me, a 47 year old. Reading books is my ever-young passion, my all-time stress buster, my truest comfort.

Okay, reading books is fine. The essence of this post is I love collecting books. If a book excites me, I buy it, any form (Kindle, Audible, paperback).

And I am emotional about them.

I literally have spoken my heart out to them. I have cuddled some of them to my sleep. I have bowed my head to some of them every time I come across. I have cried reading some of them. I have taken some of them as companions in my journeys in the past. Not for reading, just for company. I spent time thinking about some of them when I am free.

I connect strongly with the author of the book, actually.

Everyone has, till date, told me not to hoard books I won’t read in near future. Buy them when you are ready to read. Well, their truth. I want to keep the energies of great minds, curious minds, experienced minds, around me, that’s my truth. Why should I have just one mentor when I can have as many as I want. Go ahead call me insecure or inept, it’s okay, maybe I am, everyone is different. What matters to me is having a thoroughly wise and well-meaning company I can always fall back on. In real life, I don’t meet up much and don’t open up much.

Yesterday night I started creating a database in Notion about all the books I have read, am reading and I have bought but not started.

I will give you a slice of this morning:

I spent some time reading Vivekachudamani (by Swami Chinmayananda), Tiny Experiments (by Anne-Laure Le Cunff), and Please Look After Mother (by Kyung-Sook Shin).

The first book left me deeply meditative, pondering over the similarity between Jiva and Ishwara, why Sushupti stage of sleep feels blissful, how Vasanas keep us chained and deluded, and the thoughts alike. The second one soothed the burnt out places in my heart, told me I am right in not following the standard productivity path the society rewards. The third one induced grief, it’s a book that speaks so much about how mothers are. I embrace the feeling of grief I experience when I read the book for I miss my mother.

Whenever I used to visit my mother, I used to give her a book or a magazine. Gradually her collection became thick. And every time she used to tell me with a frown why had I brought one more book, previous ones are not finished. And I used to smile and say nothing.

I don’t think I am a hoarder. I think I am insecure my supplies should not vanish if the rainy day comes. I think it’s about the love and respect I feel for the author the moment a book strikes a chord with me. Anyway, whatever it is, I am pretty happy with my overflowing bookshelves and huge Kindle and Audible libraries.

And then after having the morning coffee, the impulse caught me and I bought two Kindle books - A Manual of Self Unfoldment and Art of Contemplation (both by Swami Chinmayananda).

And I felt pure joy, like I was served dessert just as I was about to finish a rather bland meal.

Thanks for reading!