Every year some approximation of one of my goals for reading is to read only the books that I feel like reading and only when I feel like reading them. Sticking to something so simple can be rather hard. I am immediately hit with a barrage of voices (some my own) that say I should finish reading the books I have already started, shouldn’t read so many books at one time, or that I need to read something for a book club, or something that I promised I would read with a friend. Obligations (admittedly welcome one), has a way of barging in.
This year, inspite of running a book podcast, I have taken that step to honor that impulse of reclaiming reading as mine. I’m in the middle of countless books and well aware of my place in them. I know the perfect moment that they are calling to me. How to pick them up at just the right time, when they are reflective of my thoughts and mood, when they will provide the maximum hit of joy. There is a certain almost indescribable delight that I get when curled up with a book that has me so engaged and eager, ready to see what happens next. I come to my senses and realize that I’m not in some far off place and immersed in another life, but oh?! – here is me, now, on my couch. It’s a feeling worth chasing and considering my boundaries so I get to have that feeling.
Do that thing. Find something that you love, make it for you and protect it. It’s worth it and so are you, and so am I.