This Monday: How I Unpack Is How I Find Home

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This weekend  we finally finished unpacking. It's amazing how much pleasure I can get from taking in ten shelves lovingly filled with my books ( the chosen ones that I cannot bear to giveaway just yet, no matter how unnecessary they seem for someone who moves house this much).

These are the books that have touched my soul. They are underlined, dog-eared, devoured. Each of them has accompanied me over breakfast until their very last page. Some of them I keep because they are so rich in wisdom that I know I will return to them over and over again. 

 I will return to them but I will rarely read any book fully again; I am too tempted by the mystery of a new book! There are only two books I have read more than once; Matilda by Roald Dahl and Plant Dreaming Deep by May Sarton. 

When I was a young girl (but old enough to proudly own my own library card), Matilda was the book I borrowed the most. Matilda was a superhero I could relate to and Dahl was a genius.

I read Plant Dreaming Deep when I moved to Tunisia last year and it is the book that I gravitated towards when I moved to Paris one month ago. Uprooted and unsettled once more, her words instantly sooth and ground me. Her observations on gardening (which I know nothing about) somehow seem to impact directly my nervous system!

Re-reading this book and now diving into 'At Seventy', is partly what has re-inspired me to use this space for writing that is more like that of a traditional journal ( even though it is for more than my eyes only; that is the challenge! )

“Writing for me is a way of understanding what is happening to me, of thinking hard things out...Perhaps it is the need to remake order out of chaos over and over again. For art is order, but it is made out of the chaos of life.”

— May Sarton, At Seventy

The remaking of order out of chaos through writing is exactly what I need right now. It reminds me that around the time I was reading and re-reading 'Matilda', I also kept many diaries, in which I would try and make sense of my world each day. And so now, I will follow the urge to do this once more, a moment to reflect without pressure, but seeing where the pen takes me.