I tracked down and purchased a hard to find out of print book this week. Once I had the scent and was on the trail I scoured the internet until I found one single copy in like new condition on Ebay being offered by a private seller who lives in Italy. Which gave me pause because of the extra shipping and I wasn’t sure if it was worth all the trouble. I’m still not sure but, it’s on its way and should be here in early May.

If you didn’t already know, I love books. I especially love physical books. I love how they feel, how they smell. I love turning pages. I love how having the artifact of a book lying out on a table or on my desk actually reminds me to make time and pick it up again. Now, I’m not a book snob or a digital book hater. Far from it. And if this particular book had been available to download I would have clicked and been done with it.

But the simple truth is physical books are good for me. I read more when there are actual books lying around. For me a book is not just a repository of data, even though books are indeed the original portable hard drives. For me even a closed book has a powerful message. Which is why I suppose I love bookstores just as much as I love the books themselves. I love just being near a lot of books. They shift my consciousness in all the right ways.

If the digital world has a shortcoming it’s that when I turn off my device all traces are gone and sometimes I forget they’re there at all. Out of sight out of mind. But a bookstore … A bookstore is a vault filled with mystery boxes. Mystery boxes everywhere, stoking my curiosity like ten thousand packages that all need unwrapping. It’s overwhelmingly glorious.

Now I know bookworms and adventurers are often thought of as existing at opposite ends of the life spectrum, but getting lost in a bookstore and getting lost in nature have almost exactly the same effect me. Both draw me into something larger than myself and beckon me to discover more. Both remind me that there are so many things I don’t know. So many things I’ve yet to see. Things I’ve yet to learn, thoughts I’ve yet to think, conversations I’ve yet to have, stories I’ve yet to hear, lives and truths and perspectives I’ve yet to understand. So much life I’ve yet to live. So much of my own story I’ve yet to write.

So whether it’s the cathedral of a redwood forest or a three story Barnes and Noble. Whether I’m digging through musty soil in my own garden or digging through musty titles at the Calico Cat Bookshop in Ventura. Whether it’s getting into a new book to fill my mind with fresh perspective or getting outside to fill my lungs with fresh air. Or, better yet, getting outside in the fresh air with a new book in tow. The message is the same:

There’s a big beautiful world out there. Don’t miss it.

It’s Easter Sunday. Spring is here. Blossoms are opening. Eggs are opening. Tombs are opening. The world is opening, this year in more ways than one.

I know this chain of thought has wandered quite a way from, “I ordered a book.” But not really, because everything starts somewhere. Life is not waiting for you. Like Spring, it’s busting out and on the move. Life will not wait for you but life will welcome you to join in at any moment.

So throw open the windows, grab a book, or a backpack, or a pen, or a bike, and to whatever adventure is beckoning you say, “Yes,” and then get out into the fresh air and go build yourself a beautiful life.