This is a photo I took this morning of my bookshelf.
A couple of weeks ago I went through 11 boxes of books I’d had in storage. Eleven boxes! Now, I know Marie Kondo has been receiving some criticism for a misunderstanding of her attitude towards books, but she was not the reason why I whittled those down to three (three tiny boxes!) and now have the equivalent of $150 credit at two used book stores in town. I did it because I wanted to.
Claiming ownership of 11 boxes of books in a basement was no longer bringing me joy.
Funny thing is — those three boxes are still in storage. This jam-packed shelf is a collection of the tucked-away, have-to-keep-and-bring-because-what’s-another-book-really, and random stash of journals I unpacked from my luggage and the boxes of stuff I *did* take out of storage so far. Two-thirds of the books Timeless publishes? That makes sense. But both a paperback *and* hard copy of the Kundalini book? It’s a little much, Guenevere. And what’s with the Glossary of Literary Terms?
No, I take it back. There’s no room for self criticism when it comes to a book collection. Grateful to have my books sitting on my shelf in my room overlooking the lake.