The silver lining to being grounded with a broken ankle is that I have rediscovered the joy and ecstasy of curling up with a good book.
Sure I have read all my life and spend a considerable amount of time and money shopping for books. Yet of late, like the last couple of years, the books stay on the bookshelf, since the luxury of time to put up my feet and get lost in the author’s world, is rare. Sounds familiar?
Between crazy schedules, striking the crazy work-life balance and constantly struggling to keep pace with the barrage of information in the newspapers, magazines, news channels and the wicked web world.
And now that time and the weather are both conspiring to make sure I stay home and read, I’m loving it. And rediscovering that reading is so much more stimulating than watching movies. Here I make the movie in my head and it’s so much fun.
Rummaging through my book shelf I also discovered that every book has a story. Not the one in it but the one in my head, with the memories it triggers off in my head.
As I see the odd bestseller on the shelf, I crack up recalling how I parked at the kerb to rush through the last 50 pages. Given that the place I parked was 100 metres from office, everyone…er noticed. Or the first Robert kiyosaki I picked up because someone I knew, said I wouldn’t enjoy it. I so loved it that he is a friend I turn to ever so often.
Well that’s true for me. After I discover an author I have to read everything they have written and get to know them better. Very often, I discover a lot of me in them and they become friends. Ernest Hemmingway, ghalib, khalil gibran, toni Morrison, amy tan, salman rushdie, vikram seth, jack canfield, firaq gorakhpuri or rumi. They aren’t just people who write books, they are people who talk to me. They are those who accompany mother mary when she comes to me, like in the beatles song “when I’m in trouble mother mary comes to me speaking words of wisdom…let it be”