When I first started this blog back in 2015, all my books were in boxes, and had been for about five years. Most of them remained in boxes (although they were shuffled around a few times) until last year around this time. I am not in a permanent home and neither are my books, but I am convinced that having them open to view -- and to grab and re-read -- has been a crucial factor in finally reaching place of some peace with myself. Right now, I am re-reading The Meaning of Mary Magdalen by Cynthia Bourgeault (2010). It is so fascinating how you crack open an older book and see page after page of underlinings and marginal comments -- proof positive that you read it many years ago, but it still ends up feeling like you are reading it for the first time. As a reader and a person, you have changed.
I actually have at least six books about (or in part about) Mary Magdalene. Perhaps two dozen books about England (including English Country Churches by Derry Brabbs, the Cathedrals of England by Alec Clifton-Taylor, Literary England by David E. Scherman and Richard Wilcox, plus offbeat ones like A Guide to Glastonbury's Temple of the Stars by K.E. Maltwood, The Queen's Clothes by Anne Edwards, and a 1989 book about the crop circle phenomenon). Feminist classics: Mary Daly's Beyond God the Father, Doris Lessing's The Marriages between Zones Three, Four and Five. My church music-related books include the 1940 Episcopal Hymnal, books about Herbert Howells, The Oxford Book of Tudor Anthems, and The Music of the English Church by Kenneth R. Long. I have books on the Tarot and other oracle cards, metaphysics, and books about women's lives, creativity, power and spirituality (Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women, Art and Society by Whitney Chadwick, all three of Sharon Blackie's books, and The Moon and the Virgin by Nor Hall). In terms of "light" reading? Two dozen old, battered copies of Mary Balogh regency romances (what can I say? They are about England and love!) and maybe ten of Peter Tremayne's Sister Fidelma mysteries, set in 7th century Ireland.
Taken together, almost 2/3 of my books are "about" "The British Isles", or I have read them trying to illuminate my passion for the place that feels like my home.
When you come from a family context of narcissism, and self-effacement took on too strong a hold, it is excruciatingly hard to go through the process I have gone through, gradually finding and embracing what makes you tick. Your fear of falling over the edge into that black hole is acute. And yet, there is no way to make a significant contribution to the world if you don't know who you are! I can finally look at my bookshelf without cringing with embarrassment at how strange I am. The books finally feel unified at some core level. So do I.
Just as I was writing this essay, my local classical radio station played Ralph Vaughan Williams's "Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis", which cuts through hundreds of books' worth of words like a warm knife through butter. If I were to disappear -- "poof" -- off the face of the earth tomorrow, my books and that one piece of music would be all anyone needed to know. My preference would be to live another twenty or thirty years after finding a way to more effectively use what people nowadays call "my superpowers"! I am ready to go further.
