A STORY. 69. THE BOOKSTORE . . . AND THE BOOK YOU'VE DECIDED TO READ

The days have been sliding by. Visitors. Ideas for the book you see yourself writing in the coming year. Something like The Ethics of Creativity. Or perhaps The Creative Spark. As for the book at the old bookstore, the book you plan to read - that has come into your mind a number of times and slid out again.

You remember the pleasure of reading for pleasure. The days spent reading in your childhood. Living with the characters in the books. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

For so many years now, reading has been almost entirely about learning. You’ve been reading to expand what you know, to expand your thinking, to explore how you know. That’s another kind of adventure. No pirates or cowboys or lions or witches. But instead, learning - one of the greatest adventures. You’ve often wondered if there would be an ending to your passion for learning, for understanding, for teaching, but it has never come.

In the last few years, there’s been a different direction to the learning. Nothing what seems to be going on, you have learned, is what it seems to be. The world is a much more dangerous place than you’d ever imagined. Predators intent on destroying humanity lurk around every corner.

How do you know that?

How do we know anything?

How do we verify?

It’s made for very interesting classes.

Cogito, ergo sum. Descartes. I think, therefore I am. But Descartes is much too simple for what is going on now, which could be a science fiction scenario, except that it’s not a science fiction scenario.

And in the midst of this, an old used bookstore. With a book, MOMENTS. And a short stack of books beside the armchair, including the book you plan to read next.

Your feet have been taking you back to the bookstore. You weren’t sure where you were heading when you left home. Now your feet have just come to a stop right outside the bookstore.

You look at the displays in the large windows, one on each side of the old door with the sign, OPEN, hanging from the handle. A book on migratory birds catches your eye. As always there is the poster for the Cafe. Maybe another time.

You reach for the handle, turn the handle, open the door.

Soon you are in your spot, in the comfortable stuffed armchair. You pick up MOMENTS. Right below is the book you’ve decided to look at next.

It feels odd to reach for this book. You wonder: What makes it feel as if you should have better things to do with your time?

You pick up the book anyway, put MOMENTS back on the top of the short pile of books. For a few moments, you look at the cover.

Then you open the book.

You turn the page, come to the table of contents. Poem after poem. About love.

So here you are. At the beginning. The beginning of the book.

To be continued . . .
A STORY. 70. YOUR EYES ARE NOT READING LOVE POEMS
https://elsaiselsa.substack.com/p/a-story-70-your-eyes-are-not-reading-love-poems

A STORY. ALL THE CHAPTERS ... UP TO NOW
https://elsaiselsa.substack.com/p/a-story-table-of-contents-up-to-now

Posted July 31, 2024