October 5

I’m standing in the library in front of the new books section. I haven’t picked up a book in almost two weeks, the last one a deep disappointment after a string of intense and somewhat distressing reads. They all had one thing in common: they came from recommendations I found on the internet.

I’m learning that may not be a good thing.

After so many losers, I cut ties with books for a bit. I focused on other endeavors and didn’t miss reading all that much, which is surprising. I’ve read fifty-seven books so far this year, and that’s not nothing. Taking two weeks off is kind of a big deal.

What I usually do when looking for something to read is follow my own inclinations and curiosity. I generally know the kinds of books I’ll like and put down ones that I sense as I’m reading aren’t for me. It’s a system that’s worked for many years.

But lately I’ve gone solely off recommendations. Generic internet recommendations. I have no clue why.

It’s not that big of a deal but standing at the library trying to figure out what to take home is exhausting me. I see a bunch of books I recognize and immediately doubt whether I’ll actually read them. What am I looking for? I wonder. But that’s part of the problem. I’m looking for something, always looking for something.

And behind all that looking is one important fact: I don’t trust myself.

I don’t want to admit that, certainly not at the library where there are so many possibilities that usually make me dizzy with hope. And maybe it’s not that exactly. Maybe it’s more like I started trusting others more than myself. I let go of thinking I know what’s best for me and conceded to the idea that other people know better.

Other people have things figured out. Other people are showing up and sharing their opinions. Other people are finding success, however small, and I am standing in front of dozens of new library books, indecisive and apathetic.

Then I think, Get a grip.

My voice hasn’t changed but maybe my listening to it has. Maybe that doesn’t feel good because I’m wasting precious time reading books I don’t love or following paths I should never walk on. Maybe not feeling good is a sign something needs to change.

So, yes, I think. Let’s change.

I turn around and head to the fiction section—old fiction, I guess you’d call it. I wander and peek, shuffle slowly and grab a handful of things that look interesting.

A few months ago, a friend asked me how I find the books I read, and I said I really didn’t know. Goodreads, maybe, or recommendations from here or there. That’s when things were looking up and the books I was reading were winners. I believe that books call out to me to read them, that the right book tends to find me at the right time.

Again, lately, I haven’t been listening.

Not until today. Not until turning squarely around and walking in another direction, one foot then the other, toward something different, if not new. I listened and trusted my gut. And that felt good.