Your journal prompts for this week:
What passions or hobbies do I have that I rarely get the time to enjoy? Or what do I not get to do as much as I'd like?
When I think about how much time I currently spend on this passion or hobby now, how does that make me feel?
In an ideal world, how much time would I spend on this passion or hobby? Are there changes I could make now in order to spend a little more time on it?
How is this passion or hobby a part of me even when I'm not actively doing it?
As I get older, I realize it's really common to love to do something but almost never take the time to do it.
I've joined a lot of creative groups over the years, and hearing statements like, "I'm a dancer who doesn't dance" or "I'm a writer that doesn't write" are fairly common. The reason? Life just got in the way.
When I finished grad school for creative writing, I wanted to be one of the people who beat those odds. Our professors warned us that it would be easy to fall back into the rhythm of the real world, get a standard job, and then forget about our own writing practice.
And for a long time, that is exactly what I did. I'd like to think I've made a comeback though, simply by creating these essays every week. I am, in fact, writing again.
But while I've made my return to writing, there remains one slight point of shame for me: overflowing bookshelves with about 80% of the books on them unread.
As our family prepares to pack up and move yet again (I'll share more about this move in another essay), I face the daunting task of sorting and packing said books. We're moving out of state, and with a baby now in the house, I'm realizing this is not the time for me to have a massive, unread book collection.
And that's exactly what it is. A collection. I, Marcy Farrey, am a huge book collector. But currently . . . I am NOT a reader.
I hate to admit it, but reading fell to the bottom of my priority list. It made a brief, lovely comeback in the early postpartum weeks. I would read while breastfeeding, and it was wonderful. But soon I had to start working again, and those quiet moments feeding her and reading a book turned into feeding and working on my laptop. The books went back to their shelves for another time.
As I sort and pack these books for I think the fourth time in four years, I find myself thinking about how the collection got this out of hand and why. And I also keep going back and forth on what is the healthy thing for me to do in this scenario: give as many books away as possible, or continue to encourage myself to collect what I love, in hopes that someday, I'll have the time to read them all?
My tendency to "collect" books rather than read them goes all the way back to childhood. Reading was a passion my dad and I shared, and he would take me to the bookstore almost weekly. He'd browse in his section and me in mine, and we'd meet up after an hour and buy our books together. From the very start, I was buying them faster than I could read them, but I loved to see the full collection on my shelf, like my own personal library. (And to this day, I actually still have that same exact bookshelf from my childhood bedroom.) Back then, I did read a lot more, but I still bought more than I could keep up with.
So, I really shouldn't be shocked about the fact that I do this as an adult. I LOVE going to bookstores. I feel at home there. I feel comforted and excited. All those stories, all those ideas, all that knowledge I can soak up—it's truly wonderful! I can't help but leave with a new book every time I visit.
Well, it's all wonderful until my house is overrun by books, and I feel sad and disappointed in myself for my lack of reading. Plus, I do wonder if it is much like having too big of a wardrobe and an overflowing closet—when there's too much for you to choose from, it becomes overwhelming, and you can't make any decisions on what to wear . . . or in this case, what to read.
It's interesting to me just how attached we can become to whatever we collect, and just how much it can represent a piece of ourselves . . . perhaps a piece of ourselves we're fighting not to lose. It can feel like this stuff is a part of our actual identities. If I let go of my books, then I might have to admit that I'm not a reader. And what good writer doesn't read?!
I prefer not to consider myself a non-reader. I'm just not a reader right now. That could change in a few years or it could change tomorrow. My love for the activity itself remains, and being a reader has absolutely shaped who I am today, even if I'm not actively reading a book right now. I think I'll swap "I'm a reader who doesn't read" for "Once a reader, always a reader."
Regardless of whether I pick up a book and start reading tomorrow or two months from now, I can't read all of these books at once. It is time to let go of as many as my heart can bear.
If you're in the market for some good books, let me know, I have a lot!
What do you love to do but don’t do nearly as much as you’d like? Explore with the journal prompts above, and feel free to share with the community through the chat! While journaling is a solo activity, I want to give us the opportunity to share with like-minded individuals when we feel called. I’ll create a chat thread for each week. I also posted and sent out an introductory thread last evening. No pressure to participate!
With much love & gratitude,
Marcy
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