We change (grow, realign, evolve) and so do our books. I’d be telling untruths if I said I’d read all of these books from front to back but I bought every one of them for a reason. They’re like little parts of my story bought at different points in time when I was interested or involved in different projects.
Can you spot my political autobiographies? I got well into these a few years back (I should add that there’s one from each of the main political parties just in case you thought I’d chosen a side). My book is there too – can you see it? (clue: it’s purple). There’s a whole mass of books from 7 years of studying theology. And is a bookshelf truly complete without CS Lewis and Narnia in there somewhere? I’m especially liking my bottom shelf with a growing collection of team coaching books, a field I’m working in now. I’m learning such a lot from these practical, systems-based thinkers like David Clutterbuck and Peter Hawkins and I find it so interesting how one field of knowledge (hermeneutics – google it) can transfer to another (systemic team coaching – google it). I’ll write more thoughts on that another day perhaps and explain some of what is really grasping me as so valuable (and actually, for those interested, profoundly theological) about team coaching. These light hearted ponderings will go off track if I go too much into that now.
Back on track – bookshelves as self-portraits: I like my bookshelf. Each book has a memory attached to it of when I bought it, for what reason, and how I did (or didn’t) use it. They say a picture speaks a thousand words but I reckon a bookshelf does too.
What does your bookshelf say about you?
Disclaimer in case anyone thinks I’m a book snob: your bookshelf may tell you that you don’t really read books. that’s totally okay; they are kind of expensive and you can get a lot on the www nowadays ?