I’m a book lover. Books have always been important to me as sources of truth, enrichers of my life. Libraries were magical places when I was a child, and the book mobile (a bus that housed a mobile library collection and travelled throughout the rural areas of the county I grew up in) was as fantastic to me as a travelling circus or a band of minstrels ever could be. I’d take home bags of books, rationing them over a week, slowly drinking in the words, finding mysteries and adventures.
The numbers on the books’ spines facinated me. I couldn’t decode them so I let my imagination concoct reasons for them. I invented secret numerologies and decided there must be something in the numbers to tell me which books would bore me and which would thrill me.
Now that I’ve been able to look into the Dewey Decimal Classification System, I still find a great interest in those numbers and the bias they hold. Look at the numbering of the religion portion and you’ll see what I mean.
Every relationship is impermanent. The relationship you have now is not the relationship you had a few years ago. Relationships have to be reforged, renegotiated. If you want to keep the relationship, you have to give it up and recreate it. It’s frightening, but love is no more stable than we are. (KD)
On a day supposedly dedicated to love, isn’t it important to recognize the importance of evolving relationships, of the need to be open to changes in the forms our love takes on?