My life is like a book

Today, I found this wonderful little book that was written in 1896. It is called A Man's Value to Society by Newell-Dwight-Hillis.There were 18 editions printed between 1896-1899, it appears to have been quite popular. I only paid a $1 for it and I am anxious to delve in-between its cover. I am a collector of old things, well, except old men. When I picked it up, it smelled old, but not musty, which turns me off. 

As I thumbed my way through the book this caught my eye:  "Primarily, books are to be read for information and mental strength. The hunger of the body for bread and fruit is not more real than the hunger of the intellect for facts and principles." 

Sometimes, I have an insatiable desire to read, almost voracious at times, as I consume volume after volume. My whole existence is surrounded by books. The house is full of them and nearly in every room, none in the bathroom (I have my limits). I have a running list of ones that I must read and work seems to get in my way of doing the things that I enjoy most, which is reading. But isn't that how life is? If I could only get paid for reading! But then I would probably end up hating the thing that I love most.

Each of us is a book without an epilogue,

an unfinished book 

whose Author reserves the right to write the ending,

since He wrote the beginning.

Anais Nin

I don't have that kind of mind

This past week, I had an "aha" moment.  I don't know about you, but I often wonder how people think.  Why they do the things that they do.

Relationships are hard. You don't have to marry someone from Africa to know that people are difficult to figure out, especially when it comes to the male/female relationship. Of all the bad things that happen in the world, I think that divorce is the worst. Nearly three years have gone by. Bewildered, I walked away not knowing what really happened. I often wondered what I could have done differently so that it would have lasted. I could blame his culture and religion along with it's followers, but what sense would that do? And I did do this for a long time. What was he thinking?  That is just it.  What was he thinking?  I have tried and tried to make sense of nonsense. I've spent too many hours pondering about things that are not meant for me to figure out. And yet, my mind kept going back to it. My focus went inward and I was in misery.

Art by Theophilis Smith

A friend of mine asked me how a murderer thinks? I was clueless. How would I know? I told her that I don't think like a murderer. My reasoning process is not the same. I cannot wrap my head around the concept of taking someone's life and it be okay or have no remorse for what I have done. I just don't have that kind of mind.  That's it!  I don't have that kind of mind.  I cannot understand because what happened would never occur to me to do to someone else.  I don't think that way. Afterwards, I felt a great sense of release. I have to unchain my mind from trying to make sense out of something that I don't have in me to do. It is not in my soul. In all honesty, it made me happy to finally see the light.  Everything passes, absolutely everything...sometimes it just isn't quick enough.