Life. The word itself astounds me. It encompasses too many beautiful things all at once and often I find myself staring at the word whenever I write it, too mesmerized by its brilliance. A life enthusiast is one who recognizes life’s simplicities and extremities, and loves them without fail.
Last month Jessica over at Notes of Nomads kicked off my new monthly guest series…The Life Enthusiast Chronicles. In these posts, lovely individuals share what makes them all gung ho about life.
Today we have Letizia, a blogger pal of mine over at Reading Interrupted. Letizia is one of those beautiful soul kinds, where everything she brings to the table is peppered with grace and good. Her love for reading inspires the rest of us to not only continue being awe-inspired by stories, but to marvel at the books themselves with their perfectly tattered beauty. All of this makes Letizia a shining example of a life enthusiast.
Connect with Letizia at Reading Interrupted on Twitter.
Take it away, Letizia…
Home is where the books are.
When Britt generously asked me to write about an aspect of life that makes me enthusiastic, I immediately thought of reading books; it’s one of the greatest passions of my life.
And as I gazed at my bookshelves for inspiration, I thought of how many of those books had traveled with me throughout my life and through my many international moves. And I also thought of those books that didn’t quite make the cut.
Those of you who have moved an extensive library know that there’s always a culling process that occurs: books you don’t know why you own in the first place, books you mysteriously own several copies of, books you think you will never reread or miss (I tend to regret getting rid of these, searching for them months later in a sudden realization that I must reread them at once). You offer them to friends, you sell them to the secondhand bookstores, you donate them to the local library.
And all of the others? These are packed in cardboard boxes and taken away with the furniture to be placed on great ships that will brave the open seas.
Here is one of my childhood dogs, getting ready for a move. I wonder if one of those boxes contain books?
And then the wait begins. Wondering where the books are now, wondering when exactly they will arrive.
And then they do! Of course, I’m happy to see the furniture, but …. the books… where are they?…. There they are!
Opening those boxes is like opening all of your favorite Christmas presents from the past years in one sitting: every item is so familiar and loved yet new and exciting at the same time!
My childhood copy of The Otter’s Tale by Gavin Maxwell:
My university copy of James Joyce’s Dubliners worn from rereading over the years:
Rediscovering all my books reminds me of how much I love to read but also grounds me. Each book is like a snapshot of my life, reminding me of memories past but with each new reading creating new ones.
The books make each new house a home. It’s hard not to get enthusiastic about that.
Thanks for reminding me of this, Britt.