I seemed to have gotten side-tracked and a bit too busy to do any writing lately. If I were a writer I would probably claim “writer’s block”, but in my case, probably more a case of distractions. However, in the end, these are all just excuses.
While on a recent jaunt through the city of Boston, on a rainy day, I took a ride on the Red Line into Cambridge and paid a visit to the Harvard Book Store. As you walk through the front doors there is an old wooden staircase to your left that leads into a basement area where “used” books reside, including some that may be considered more of an “overstocked” item which never found its proper place outside a bookstore.
As I descended the wooden steps, a few creaking beneath my weight, the temperature slightly cooler to my rain dampened flesh, all together adding a chill to the atmosphere. There was a scent of aged paper and ancient wisdom wafting through the air, transporting me, anticipatorily, to another era. The walls were adorned with shelves upon shelves of books, some dusty and weathered, others carefully preserved and pristine. I considered that each shelf could be a treasure trove of knowledge, stories, and forgotten secrets waiting to be unearthed. Some books were stacked randomly around the room on tables, creating a sense of organized chaos. I could tell that some of these books had been collected and cherished for generations, forming a repository of human thought and creativity.
As I wandered somewhat methodically around the room, passing between the alleys between bookcases, I indeed uncovered a couple “gems” tucked away on these shelves. This room was certainly a place where the “used” books of days past have been temporarily banished until that right person, with the passion to search these dark abysses and discover them. Once “recovered” they would be carried up to the light of a new day, and a new shelf, to be placed alongside other books and to once again be capable to influence, guide, and teach.
One book I retrieved and carried out of that basement addressed the subject of writing about one’s life. We would probably identify, or label, this type of writing as one of two genres: a dairy or a memoir. Of course, memoirs are often about someone “famous” and published for public consumption. A dairy would generally be considered more private and at most only for a few closely held individuals. However, in today’s world of “social media” everyone can create a memoir, and probably are unawares of such activity.
A few years ago, I made a conscious decision to post in the social media space only comments that may be viewed as words of encouragement. (And I proved to myself, that we can impact the “great algorithms” and we do have more control over what is “fed” to us!) So, all this brings me to what I’m labeling as the “Insignificant Reboot”.
I’m not a well-known writer, I have no aspirations of becoming one either, but I am living a life that involves many family members and friends who I enjoy sharing life with along my life’s path. As a retired person, I find myself experiencing life somewhat more freely. I find many experiences through what I eat, drink, and read. When I tap the pause button and consider all these experiences, I discover that often, and often subconsciously, these experiences change me. The challenge? I find it takes cognizant effort to help these experiences to change me in a positive way. I believe it takes no effort on my part to allow an experience to negatively impact me, that’s our human nature in a world of entropy. (I’ll leave you to consider that term on your own…. your effort to understand that term is your participation in that term)
So, where does that end this post? As I reluctantly made my way back to that wooden staircase, on that rainy day in Cambridge, I felt a sense of awe and gratitude for having been granted the opportunity to enter this basement room full of books. It was a place where the wisdom of the ages had found refuge, patiently waiting to be discovered by those who dared to venture into its embrace. And now? I will be writing, thus sharing, my experiences through food, drink, and books. Again, I am not a writer, but I hope through this “hobby” I become a better writer in time. Thus, if you have any interest in doing so, I invite you to follow my writings. As you read any of my posts always remember my intent is to speak from a position of encouragement; for both of us.
Have a blessed day…. and let’s try this “blogging” journey anew!