Up at the earliest hours of the morning to study for a test usually begins a most intense string of hours that eventually lead me to a hard and fast brain crash by noon. Usually, hopefully, the test is over by then. The place most often visited by me next is not usually to a nap, but to that marvelous land of must and dust; also known as the thrift store. My reprieve from the world.
There is a lot of potential that these dingy buildings could--and do--offer someone, but for me it's not as much about finding a treasure as much as it is an invitation to be present. Funny enough, I find deep rest here where I can turn my mind off of all the potential future worries, and simply ask myself if I like that thing collecting dust on the shelf in front of me or not. Is it worth standing in that long line on 50% off days? But perhaps the most enchanting and rest-inducing section of the thrift store is the book section. I said it, the book section.
If I venture out to browse and buy books, chances are the library won't cut it because there is FAR too much to look at. A new book store is full of preconceived notions that all these books are a) probably new-ish, and b) already meticulously approved by someone. A used bookstore on the other hand, they filter those books too. They don't just take anybody's book rejects, they take only the good ones. So there we go again with the preconceived notions. But there is something endearing to me about the book aisles at a thrift store. No body screens them; they come in, and they go on the shelf. They are the ultimate of the book rejects, and I get to stand there for hours on end after I just broke my brain taking a nursing school exam, and get lost in a world of books with no reviews, no one suggesting that this might be a book right up my alley. I get to pick and choose from this glorious pile of someone else's trash, and usually those books are my greatest treasure. They feel like my own personal discovery, and when I open the pages there are no expectations, but only the world that my imagination forms with each new, and unspoiled word.
I am a sucker for the rejects. This is my place.
