Conviction

On the very same day that I finally published a post about ALA Midwinter, reveling in the amount of free stuff I had been able to acquire, Dianna wrote this. In it she describes her realization that she had far too much "stuff" cluttering both her apartment and her life, distracting her from what was truly important. In fact, she describes it as smothering her.

Wow.

That one hit me right in the gut. How many books did I pick up at ALA? 71. How many of them do I actually intend to read? I don't know, but it certainly won't be all 71. Then why did I take them? Why did I lug a bag of books on each shoulder across the city of Boston each day of the conference even though I didn't feel well?

Greed. I wanted to have more books, more stories to read and keep. And because they were offered to me for free, I didn't give it a second thought at the time, figuring that there was no harm in picking up a few books I was only marginally interested in since it wasn't going to cost me anything.

But there is always a cost. There was the cost of the effort it took to bring them all home on public transportation. There was the time spent sorting them into piles and finding the last open space in my room where I could store them without tripping over the piles. And now there's the guilt of knowing that I will never read them all, at least not before I have to move.

I have always been a pack rat. You can call it collecting or archiving to make it sound better, but the truth of the matter is that I have trouble letting things go, even after they have served their purpose. Because I like to have them. Even books. I would rather buy books than borrow them from a library, because then I can keep the books and return to them again whenever I like. Now, that in itself is not all bad. A person should always have a favorite book close at hand like an old friend. But what about the books that were only fairly good. Why do I need to keep them? Or the ones that are amazingly good, but I know I'll never read again? Why am I keeping Moby Dick? Because someday I might want it, and then I would regret letting it go. At church recently our pastor defined greed as perverted love, and he's right. Love of stories and books is a wonderful thing, but not when taken to this extreme.

Soon I will be moving on and moving out, and much of what I've collected cannot come with me. So it's time to take Dianna's convicting words to heart and clear some of the smothering stuff out of my life. Thankfully, I've already devised a plan. I am still going to read as many of the books as possible, but only the good ones. If I'm not excited by the end of the second chapter, they go immediately. Some won't even get that far. I have reevaluated the stacks of free books and set aside many I know I won't miss and added them to the North Hall lending library. Of those that I actually read, many others may also end up in the cabinet in the dorm lounge, ready to be enjoyed by others. Some truly excellent books will be set aside to be given thoughtfully to those of my friends who I know will enjoy them. So far one has even joined my personal collection, though I mean to keep that category small and exclusive.

In fact, this is to be my pattern in reading from now on. As much as possible I will find books I want to read at the library instead of the bookstore. I imagine this will be good for my bank account as well! If I do buy a book, I will only do so if I am ready right then to read it, not just with a vague inclination that someday I might. And when I have finished, I will consider deeply whether I really intend to read it ever again of it would be better off being enjoyed by someone else. Stories are meant to be shared, after all, not kept. Then a healthy love of story can be spread.

-Kim