A blog post? Really? Do you even consider yourself a blogger anymore with your erratic posting "schedule" and obvious lack of discipline? Well, yes, I feel the usual Blogger's Guilt that accompanies a neglected blog, that feeling hanging over your head when you don't post with any kind of regularity. Then I thought, wait a minute, if you're here reading this YOU HAVEN'T GIVEN UP! You actually care that I might have something to say, or at least you want to read my lame excuses for not posting. Either way: I love you. Let's be friends, friends who forgive each others' shortcomings, or at least each others' procrastinating tendencies.
But I digress. The Kobo is going well, although since my desktop computer is MIA after it's hard drive bit the big one, I have not set it up on said computer, and so have not taken advantage of the library's ebooks. I really want to do this, but the browser the Kobo is equipped with sucks, so I can't do it wirelessly apparently. I also look forward to sharing titles, etc. Also, Mike bought a Kobo Mini, which is perfect for him, as the screen size is not much smaller, but the device is small enough to fit in his coat pocket. AND it was on sale (of course!) I picked up a paper book the other day, and almost forgot how to turn a page, that's how much I've been Kobo-ing it.
So, while awaiting my computer, I've read several free ebooks I've downloaded, some I've read before, others have been on my to read list for a while. I read Vanity Fair by Thackery recently, and actually quite enjoyed it. He has an almost Dickensian dryness to his humour, which is of course in his favour in my books.
I also read The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, which I haven't read in at least 20 years. It still holds up, and it's theme of the power of hope to heal our infirmities is still so true today. How many of us have holed up inside ourselves, as Colin did in his room, convinced that we'll turn out badly just as everyone said we would? Or have shown the world a selfish, sour face like Mary's when we've been neglected, or overindulged, and just decide that we don't like people (after all, they don't like us)? How many of us have lost someone or something, and our grief poisons the very things we used to love, so we lock them away, and run away from the pain, like Colin's father? And how many of us are trapped in these thoughts and patterns, until exposed to wholesome pursuits, the ability to get some fresh air, to work up an appetite, and to THINK OF SOMETHING OTHER THAN OURSELVES for a time? Whenever the breezes of the moors, and the scent of the earth is described, I can feel it, smell it, and taste it. Perhaps it's my own longing for spring, but the spring in this book is so potent as to almost be a character in itself.
We all need those plain speaking Yorkshire folk from this book. Dickon, his sister, and his mother don't worry about stepping on toes, or the "proper" way of doing things. They call it like they see it, instead of worrying about whether it's their business to interfere. These are the people who pull us out of our dark rooms where we sulk, brood, worry, and grieve. They toss us outside with our coats, show us the wonder that is in the world around us, and remind us that we are NOT the alpha and omega of everything. And the more healthy food and air to the body, the more healthy breezes to the mind, the more we are pulled OUT OF OURSELVES, the better we are.
Is this not what Christ taught us? To see the people around us, see the world around us instead of brooding over ourselves. This simple children's classic captures all of this in such a sweet way, without being sappy. It's a good wholesome read, like sitting down to a hearty lunch after playing outside all morning, and having berries and cream to finish off with - good, sweet, but not sugary.
Anyway, this post was going to be about something else, but this tangent kind of took over. Words have a way of doing that with me. I never sit down to write without the feeling that I'm not really in control here, the story will do what it wants, and I am only a conduit.
Get outside, run, play no matter what your age. See others who give you hope and nourish your soul. Play fetch with a dog, cuddle a cat, chase a child, laugh with a grandma. Get out of yourself, and you'll find yourself getting "fat" like Mary: the healthy fat of a heart that grows and a soul that stretches beyond what you thought was possible.