When I started this blog, one of the first themes that started to surface was that my love of travel and books was about equal, and they were both based on my desire to explore the world. Visiting new places, whether via pages or planes, was equally exciting and rewarding.
Somehow over the past few years, I virtually stopped reading books. I think it had to do with my migration from paper books to ebooks, and then the distraction factor of competing media once I open my phone.
I’m thrilled to announce that I’ve recommitted to reading books, and it feels so good!
After a few years of barely reading, I’ve read a bunch of books over the past couple months. It started with Tara Westover’s memoir, which I had next to my bed for a couple of years. My dog eats books, and I rescued it from her clutches and stuck it in my purse on the way out of the door on my way to Miami. What a fortunate happenstance that was as my flight was delayed then diverted to Tampa and I had lots of extra time. I was transported to rural Idaho, to BYU, to Harvard to Cambridge, all was sitting in seat 7A. It reminded me of the power of a great story.
And, while I talk about them as two different loves, travel and reading, the truth is that they are naturally complementary. Losing myself in a fabulous narrative is a great way to tune out the increasing irritations of traveling.
As perscribed by the great Dr. Seuss, “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”