I’ve always loved reading, I get that from my mom. She would read to my brother and I all the time. I remember her reading Bambi to the two of us at our summer cottage and missing the devastating ending because she was crying through it. My brother and I had boxes of books lined up at the bottom of our linen closet in the hallway at home. We would sit on the floor in front of the closet with the doors pulled open and read for hours. Probably because of all that reading I’ve always written. I started in 5th grade with my diary and expanded out since then to every kind of journal, (dream, gratitude, intensive), to short story, poetry, script writing and on. For me the two go hand in hand. Everyone who’s ever taken a writing class has heard, you have to be a voracious reader to be a good writer. I think it’s because you pick up so many other styles by delving into the worlds other authors create. The trick is being able to hear your own authentic voice in the swirl of so many other voices and distill that.
For me, even more important, is what you read rather than how much you read. What we 
are drawn to says a lot about who we are, what we value, what inspires and intrigues us. Some people say, “If you had to be stranded on an island with one person who would it be?” I think a better question is, “What book would you take along?”
One of my all time favorite books is, The Illuminated Rumi. I feel like the whole universe is contained in this book, incredibly beautiful words coupled with gorgeous illustrations. (Translation and commentary by Coleman Barks and illustrations by Michael Green.) I received this book as a gift about 15 years ago. I think my dear friend who bought it for me saw me for who I really was. (I only wish she had inscribed it!) It’s funny because I remember exactly where I was when I received this gift. The warm sunny room, the smell of the ocean, the time of day. There was such delight in receiving such a beautiful and spontaneous gift for absolutely no reason at all. (Aren’t those the best gifts after all?)
I think in that moment I realized what a magical kind of present this really was. It’s more than a present, it’s a window into seeing more deeply. It helps me to see myself and others for more than just face value, and to see the myriad of ways in which we all connect back to one another. This is one of the few books I have taken with me everywhere I go and refer to constantly.
In fact I opened it up in preparation for this post and came across this,
“A night full of talking that hurts,
My worst held-back secrets.
Everything has to do with loving
and not loving.
This night will pass.
Then we have work to do.
Painstaking work,
then the swan
spreads its wings”
p 19
The painstaking work is finding out who we really are at our core. The work of seeing ourselves, appreciating our gifts, learning to share our gifts, and loving ourselves and others more. When we do this work we bring more of what heals and uplifts us into our lives, and learn to let go of what doesn’t. I have received all of these gifts from this book. Jung would call it the process of individuation. The work to reveal who we really are. Isn’t that what all writing is? What life is about? What we are all here to do?
It’s the deeper work that calls the soul. All we have to do is answer from where we are in the moment. And here is Rumi in the 13th century talking about the same thing, doing his painstaking work of finding the soul.
Maybe it’s not so surprising I can’t get enough of this book. I have been on this journey for quite some time. And what a lovely companion this book is to have had along the way. I hope this book will offer you insight and soothe your soul.
Here’s to your own bookish discoveries that lead you home to yourself,
kb
