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The Joys Of Old Books And Imperfect People(5-28-09)Last weekend, I spent part of the holiday finally clearing out my basement of old books that had belonged to my parents when they were alive. This was a task I should have felt good about finally doing-even though it has taken me many years to accomplish! It was Memorial Day after all, and what better a way to spend it than remembering what I have valued in my past and what I want to honor in the present.Pleasure washed over me as I discovered all the treasures, connected to my past, and reveled in all the memories and feelings of warmth that I associated with these wonderful old books. Suddenly at some point, though, this pleasure became overshadowed by that other voice- saying how ashamed I should feel that some of these books were musty or partly chewed up and ravished by time. The voice went on to further berate me that I should have been a better, or actually even a "perfect" caretaker. Even though I knew I had been the one to rescue the books, to store them, to keep them, and to preserve a legacy, I began to lose perspective. My focus narrowed as those old negative views kicked in as they often do whenever there is a trigger of disorganization, messiness, or carelessness.My husband, seeing I was losing perspective, moving away from the pleasure and toward messages of failure as old as these books, said something to me that helped me regain my perspective.My husband, appreciating the work that I do every day (the whole picture) could see that I was placing the worth and importance of these old books above my own self worth. He lovingly said to me “You do more good in a week than these old books ever did in all these years. “ Could I have been more careful? Yes, of course. But it was this rearrangement not of the books, but of my perspective, that got me thinking straight again and let me go back to enjoying the rest of the holiday- lost in the pleasure of memories and connection. After all, what I relish and enjoy and what gives these books depth and meaning is not their perfect condition. Instead, I am thrilled and my imagination is stirred, when I discover what someone scribbled in the margins in 1935 or when I find an underlined passage that moved someone so many years ago. What I came to understand during this past Memorial Day weekend was that old books are not meant to be perfect and neither am I.
Sari,
I loved this blog! It spoke directly to me and some things I'm going through in my own life right now.
Thank you!
Somanique
Thanks for responding! Glad it spoke to you-
Sari
This is wonderful post, I can feel your pain and your joy all the same time. I get upset with myself for something that should be easy but become not so simple when I start to complete the task. I wish for a husband like your's or even a friend that come remind about my positive side. It is nice to read these blog they remind me that I am not such a bad person after all. Thank you for being "U".
Thanks for taking the time to respond.It means alot.
All the best-
What an awesome perspective! and you know what....your husband is absolutely RIGHT!! : )
Thanks so much Ariane,
Glad to have you as a member!
I look forward to reading these reflections, but then there is something in me that at first puts it down, wanting a bigger "grander" conclusion. But later, the deeper meaning sets in if I let it. Then there is the AHA!. Every holdiay, every birthday, and every time the sun comes out, I feel anxious. They are markers - standards- points- when I'm "expected" to rise to the occasion. But for all the reasons you mentioned in both this piece and the BBQ - I too, am at odds with the setup. If one lives daily with their own values and I do most of the time, why is the "stupid" voice still there? If it is more meaningful to touch and putter among these books - or in my case my stuff- then that's my need, if it feels right at the time - even if the sun is shining.
I have learned so many extremely valuable lessons from artists. I often say that if I could throw the mom hat away and exchange it forever forever for the art hat, I would be a better woman and certainly a better mom. Louise Nevelson used old wooden broken pieces from thrown out furniture she collected from the streets to make her mysterious sculptures. It was their imperfections from their use that was reflected in these bits and pieces that hold our interest. She assembled them and organized them for her work in multiple ways that never seem boring. Perfect is often that - boring.
You knew the deeper value of the books and you preserved them. So their lack of perfection was a standard that came back to berate you. Allowing that "stupid" little voice to tell you that could have done it better is almost always the problem I find. But luckily you have your husband's voice to knock it out of the ring and you are smart enough to listen to his sage advice. I have both a wise husband who I, often get angry at, for telling me the obvious and many of those "stupid" little voices, who manage to keep me abreast of what is and is not appropriate. So with many thanks to you for initiating this website and keeping it alive and well with these important voices.
With heartfelt gratitude,
Ann Gordon
