“I do serendipitous reading lately,” said Talia as she walked into her kitchen leaving me alone in her library filled with books in depth psychology, and healing arts. My mouth watered. I hope I secretly took some pictures of her shelves. (I do that a lot. It’s the only kind of theft I can be accused of.) If I did, I can track the date I visited her place in our text messages, find the photo in my archives, zoom into the first book that draws my attention, reserve it on the library app, and wait for it to become unlocked for me.

Serendipitously is how I have been reading books all along. It’s when you let your hand, not your mind, instinctively pick up a book from a shelf, then another, then read this or watch that, then something in your life happens as it should, then you see how through some magic, or the brain’s cognitive process that matches external stimuli with information stored in memory, all the separate worlds from all the separate books begin to develop into a meaningful pattern. Like a cure, this will give you exactly what you need.

P.S. I discovered at least one other reader Rosie Leizrowice who wrote beautifully about The Dying Art of Serendipitous Reading.

Artist. Environmentalist. Immigrant. Mother. Investigating the links between environmental health and mental health.

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