Despite the overnight warmth, there is a welcome chill this campervan morning. Autumnal yellows seem to have appeared on some and spread over night on others. The sun breaks rooftops and the uppermost branches of the Oak and Ash already lit in sunlight, as is a far off Willow. Two squirrels leap around the branches, sending debris downwards. I can hear birdsong, but they remain elusive to the eye. The sky a hazy faded white with the palest of blue sitting behind. The coffee is , as usual, welcome. Finally finished the Rick Rubin book on creativity and I would thoroughly recommend it to anyone and everyone to polish up their creativity, or unstick their creative processes. Now exploring the essayist Alberto Manguel and his work on reading ( The act of, rather than the place ) and libraries. I am new to his work and slowly I have begun my journey, but one book immediately struck me, ‘ Packing My Library ‘ what Manguel calls :
“ An exercise is oblivion “
A forced move from a large French residence to a flat in the USA, means consigning part of his 30,000 volumes into boxes never to be seen again.
I have been reflecting on the library’s that I pack when I go away and the books that I chose to leave behind, consigned to a temporary oblivion. The process of perusing shelves, and the choice of books that reflects the nature of the trip. History for a history trip, music for a drumming trip, nature and photography for a nature trip, always a volume to keep me grounded and thoughtful, sometimes a mixture of all. It’s a process as important as packing my clothes and can take considerably longer. A library that, as I travel, is consistently added to by various bookshop visits. So my travel is linked to my library, as my library is linked to my travel. Lovely days people.
“ Life happened because I turned the pages.” Alberto Mangue.
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