I have hundreds of books. Love ’em. I’m an unabashed bookworm. I get warm fuzzies thinking of a blustery winter day ten years from now, when I remember a favorite book and can pluck it off my shelves and sit down with a mug of tea and just read.
So I’ve been thinking. What if I got rid of all but a few dozen of my books? How would that change me as a person? Why do I want those books? Why have I spent all that money for that feeling of security?
Would I feel more free if I had only a couple dozen books? Would I feel less attachment to things? Might I be a deeper person if I weren’t gripping all these things with such determination?
The great religious men of history had few possessions.
Do I fear that kind of poverty? A poverty of books?