Letters to a Young Poet

(I forgot to post this blog on Monday. I had it "saved" and not "posted". Oops)

I love reading; I love being swept away into another person's mind only to realize that no matter where we are from, how old we are, no matter what we have been through, we all have the same basic human emotions, the same questions, and the undoubted yearning for the same answers. That is why I love going to the gym at Sunset Place, and probably what I am going to miss the most about it once I become a (temporary)resident of 33186. After a nice, sweaty workout there is nothing better than strolling into Barnes and Nobles and doing something that I like to call “freelance reading”. Feel free to use my term. It fits the description of what I do perfect. Depending on the mood I am in, I either stroll by the “self help” section, “travel” or “cooking” (only when I’m hungry and the cover of the book looks yums!) and pick up random books and start browsing through them.

Most of the time I do not buy them. In fact, I barely if ever buy any, not because I am a cheapskate, but more so because of my upbringing. You see, when I was a little girl, I was surrounded by books at all times. My father, who was also an avid reader, would buy each and every book he got his hands on. My most vivid memories of him always involve a book, a cigarette, and coffee. The apple does not fall too far from the tree, eh? Minus the whole cigarette and coffee combo, that is a recipe for bathroom disaster! (If you did not understand that joke,step away from this blog) I remember looking at his collection of books as a young girl and wondering what was inside them, what magical things my father saw in these rectangular heavy objects that were so much better at building a house with than legos! So yea, because of the abundance of books surrounding every corner of my house, I am a little nervous on buying any. You don’t believe he had that many? How many people do you know have enough books to open an entire library? Yea, exactly.

(incerpt from article link below, if you don't understand spanish, basically saying that the books came from my father's personal collection)

http://www.usergioarboleda.edu.co/derecho_penal/nueva_biblioteca.htm

Esta colección se suma a las innumerables obras que sobre el tema reposan en la Biblioteca Álvaro Gómez Hurtado y son base fundamental de un proyecto que busca conformar en el futuro la biblioteca más importante del país en el ámbito del Derecho Penal. Los volúmenes adquiridos pertenecían a la colección privada del doctor Roberto Eljach (q.e.p.d), quien fuera Procurador Delegado ante la Sala de Casación Penal de la Corte Suprema de Justicia, al momento de su sensible e inesperado fallecimiento.

So because of this fear of purchasing every book that looks tempting to read, I like my little post workout adventure better.

Now back to the title of this post "Letters to a Young Poet", a book by Ranier Maria Rilke. This book in particular caught my attention after reading this customer review, very uncharacteristic of me because I usually don't do such a thing.

"Written with a simple, elegant, and com(passionate) prose, Rainer Maria Rilke pens a series of letters to a young aspiring poet, Franz Xaver Kappus that contain a stunningly beautiful argument and plea for living an authentic life, that addresses the silent questions that exist in the deepest chambers of our hearts, the grand themes of literature, and hence life: the meaning of solitude and how to love"

I am a firm believer that certain books fall into your life at the perfect moment. They are meant for you to read, right there, right then. You were never not going to read them, they were never not going to be a member on your book shelf. They are there to guide, teach you a lesson, comfort you, cheer you up; they are there to serve as a template in which you bring in all your experiences and history and read it in your own terms. I say this because of a certain quote I just read; take into consideration, I am moving in with my inlaws in less than one week and although I am not scared, I still cant help but wonder and question if everything is going to work out. Then I read this...and it all becomes clear.

"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the questions. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer some distant day" - Rilke

Goodnight Monday. Hello less than one week countdown.