Growing up, books were both my entry into magical new worlds and my escape from the pain of growing up in an alcoholic family. They fueled my desire to learn more – about the world, about history, about what made people tick. They let me enter into imaginary places and situations that helped me see I didn’t have to be limited by my family of origin. They fed my soul and my dreams.
They still feed them. I look to books to broaden my horizons, make me question what I know, teach me new things, deepen my understanding of others and keep me growing. And yes, they are also a great escape when life seems stressful. The only negative I’ve found is that we never seem to have enough shelves to hold them, despite my persistent use of the library and ebooks.
Every year I set a goal of reading 50 books. Most years I either meet that goal or exceed it. In 2017 I read 63, down 16 from the year before. It’s fun as the new year starts to review what I read the previous year and make some picks for what I hope to cover this year. About a quarter of the books I read last year were nonfiction. A large portion of those were in the areas of the two fields I’ve worked most in and had the most passion for: spirituality and psychology. Continue reading