I'd quite recently come to a peaceful understanding with myself. I had laid to rest the ghost of trying to be clever. The faithful may recall I had my Damascus moment driving through the Ashdown Forest just before my brakes failed. That wonderful revelation. I am NOT clever. And I don't need to be. Despite the subsequent drama in the hedge I felt much happier for it. And yesterday's book purge was a liberating result of it. True freedom.
Today I came to another peaceful understanding. I am not big. I don't mean in the arse department - that's another planet I've no wish to explore. I mean I'm still not quite grown-up or reliable or something approaching just yet. I thought I'd cracked it yesterday - being all smug about my clutter flutter. But then I find myself untying, rummaging, disordering until I again held in my pesky paws my five most rued flings.
Not Plato, not Jung, not Illych, not Shakey Will, not Gombrich, not wisdom, not art, not enlightenment. Nope. They were just in the way. Not a flicker of regret.
Back in the fold came Heidi, What Katy Did, A Taste of Honey, Whip It and No More Sad Refrains. I sighed and hummed and knew I'd done the right thing. I felt like a squirrel who'd found her lost nuts.
So I may not be big or clever, but I'm happy.
And I also realised something else. There's a common link with these five books. They're all naughty little girls. Not naughty as in bad. Naughty as in went their own way despite the expectations.
Came to another peaceful understanding. I like being a naughty little girl. Naughty is so the new good.
I also pulled back out A Hitchhiker's Guide for Mr Roving Blade who'd been wobbling too. He'd only thrown out about three books anyway hadn't he? Ahh but the blindness of the smug..... Mr R B had fooled me into thinking he'd not really bothered to slim down. Found scores of his rejects out there. Humbled!
Happy and humble beats big and clever anyday.
Just gonna chuck 'em all in the damn box and tape it up so I will. Enough with the thinking already.