There is a certain magic about books. Books and plants. Two of my favorite things.

Plants are easier for me to describe because they are obviously living things. To me, they are creatures. They have movement, even if they are tirelessly planted in one place, with roots that anchor them in to one spot forever. They turn their faces to the sunlight just as I do. They thirst and hunger just as I do. They are breathing creatures, though they use the gases that pass from my lips as their fodder and I use the oxygen that they exhale.

They are sensitive to changes. They need love and affection. Some of them need their leaves shined and many of them respond to touch. They die in the midst of emotion, and they thrive when their atmosphere is filled with love. They enjoy music, and you can tell this by the way the perk up to the rhythmic beats pouring out of my speakers.

Have you never seen such a thing? Perhaps you should watch them sometime. It’s rather beautiful.

Books are another magical object, though somewhat differently. Books are the thoughts of man (or woman). Used books have been pored over, have been cried into, laughed about. They elicit the depths of thoughts or the joys of adventure. One can feel a great deal of what a previous reader experienced while thumbing through its pages. There is a great deal of history in every little treasure.

The extent of human experience is captured within words. We created an ingenious way to convey our minds to others by using language. If there was a concept that could not be expressed, man created a new word that encompassed the thought. Brilliant thinkers shared their infinite wisdom in masterpieces that contain nothing more than ink, paper, and a conglomeration of words that when combined, create entire worlds, explain philosophies, or just share enlightenment. There is a great deal of knowledge that I don’t know yet and don’t understand… but at my fingertips are hundreds and hundreds of books– in my home– that can teach me. Even if I do not embrace the thoughts expressed, I can entertain the idea that some other mind thought these words, had enough desire to put them together, and then some way, I obtained their artwork.

These are the two “things” we collect. Plants and books. They are not just “stuff,” and really, the word “things” does not truly convey how valuable they are to me. There is life within the leaves and stalks of these creatures, and there is wisdom and infinite thought and knowledge between the bindings of these books.

Today was a perfect day. We decorated the home by hanging more plants and we loved on all of our creatures.

We sat and read. I haven’t read much since I began my college education– all my time then was spent memorizing and learning from the texts… which is good, but not quite the same. One can learn great things from books, and I am thirsty for more.

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