The other day my local library’s had its semi-annual book sale. They sell donated and other books that do not circulate well in the library, to raise money. It’s a worthwhile cause to help raise funds for improvements. I’ve gotten some very good books for less than a dollar. Most of the books are gently used and others are like new.
One of the books I bought was “The Language of Letting Go” by Melody Beattie. It is from the Hazelden Meditation Series. In it she helps one to become responsible for our own pain and self-care.
When I first started meditating again, one of the mantras I often used when I became upset was “let it go”, while taking a deep cleansing breath. So the title of the book caught my eye. For 63 cents, I thought it was a good bargain and a nice addition to my growing meditation book collection. I planned to use some of the affirmations with my group.
As it was such a beautiful day, I slowly walked back home and looked through the chapters of the book to read some of the affirmations. As I flipped toward the back, a piece of paper peeked out of the pages. I hadn’t seen it when I looked through it at the sale. The paper had notes next to page numbers and then a to do list.
I stopped in my tracks and looked the piece of paper over. Although the book looked barely touched, there were quite a few notes. But it was the heartbreakingly serious to do list that affected me the most. Someone had taken the time to go and buy the book, pay $12.95, read it and make notes to themselves. The list read:
Join Al-Anon
Go to counseling
Sell house
Get a divorce
The fact that this was on the reverse blank side of a piece of floral note paper, was even more profound to me. It was as if the person who wrote it didn’t want to write such serious things on the pretty floral side.
At that moment, my heart went out to that unknown person. I wondered if they were okay. This was a very specific, serious list of to-dos. I felt as if my purchase of the book was too frivolous. I had casually picked it up and decided to buy it, because it was only 63 cents.
I read the list several times over by the time I got home. I wondered if the writer had indeed joined Al-Anon; gone to counseling; sold their house and got that divorce. I wondered how they were doing now and how difficult it was for them to deal with what they had to go through. I thought to myself, “Did they even move out of the neighborhood?” Since the library has the sale at least a couple of times a year, I assumed that the book was donated since the last book sale.
I wanted to find them and reach out to them, but I had no way of knowing who it was or where they lived. Even if they had put heir name and address in the book, I would be seen to be intruding in their personal life. I’m sure that I would not be welcomed, even as a concerned stranger who shared a moment with them. But then I’ll never know.
It was important for me to realize that something I picked up on the off-chance, may have been partly responsible for helping forever alter someone else’s life. I know that books are not always just books. But I feel that now I should treat the book with more respect, because of the power it had for someone else. I will pass it on to someone who needs it more than I. I may re-donate it for someone who needs it to find it.
