I buy books the way I buy groceries. Every two weeks or so, I drop $60 and call it a night. Either way, it’s food. And it’s meant to sustain me for periods of time. Time that I spend learning how I live, work and play in a given environment. It’s a fascinating and never-ending pursuit.
Yesterday I bought a book called Archetypes by Caroline Myss, the same author who wrote Anatomy of the Spirit. And I liked that book. Might as well open the cover of this one too. I spent a few minutes reading the preface and introductions, though was hesitant about the content inside. Could this just be a book about labels? I wasn’t interested. I wasn’t interested in defining myself by a list of categories that I may or may not fit in to. It was like shrinking my soul into a size 2. And…
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