Musings - on the editor's mind

Lin McJunkin shared her thoughts in a letter to the community a couple of weeks ago, promoting giving the gift of time to kids as priceless. She is right. That effort, bonding with another, is a gift to the self, as well. That is what teachers, coaches and volunteers say.

We cannot make more time, literally. I have a friend who rues time as “the enemy.” Another friend finds time to be an equalizer: the same amount is available to all of us, rich or poor.

Walking through the stacks at the library Saturday, slow became my mantra. We can all slow down. We can’t make more time, but we can move more slowly.

Libraries make that possible. They are close by and they are free. Wherever our age or what generation we are, we can run fingers across book bindings and page through books on display. Deep breathing may result.

Treasures may appear at random, as young people say. The term unscripted comes to mind. Also wandering, as I wandered and wondered, unscripted through a random row of the stacks.

There is also something to the three dimension physicalness of reading book bindings, stopping, literally and physically stopping in one’s tracks, and pulling a book off a shelf. A Google search is not the same.

The unintended result? “Wisdom Through the Ages,” a selection of quotations. Opening, by chance, to the section titled “Ideals / Principles,” I found a familiar friend: William Henry Channing’s “My Symphony:”

“To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common – this is my symphony.”

More than once I have heard that from the pulpit. What a wonder that a library stop, unscripted, put those words in front of me.