Observations

Today on the blog, I’m tackling one of the world’s most controversial topics: re-reading books. People are so wild about this one! Everyone seems to be very passionately on their own side of this debate – to the point where I’ve heard contempt and even derision in the voices of people when they hear I like to re-read books. “Life is short!”, that camp says, “what a waste of time.” Or they’ll say, “Really? Wow…I’ve never liked a book enough to re-read it.” (To which I say, “Well, maybe you should get yourself some better books?”)

As you might have guessed, I am firmly in the camp of the re-readers. Yes, me, the girl who was once quoted in the Globe and Mail as saying “One day I realized I was going to die without having read all the books I want to read.” That quote might sound morbid or excessively dramatic, but it’s a real thought I have often, ever since I read My Life with Bob, a book about a lifetime of reading. I know I will never get through my To-Read list in my lifetime, a fact which makes me feel small and human and motivates me to read as many beautiful stories as I can. 

But despite all of that being true, I am still a re-reader. Not with all books, and not all the time, but some books, sometimes. For me, it’s a kind of special treat to re-read a book that I absolutely loved, almost like eating comfort food. When I was traveling in Europe after university, alone and occasionally lonely, I re-read all of Sarah Addison Allen’s books on my iPad. These are not high literature, but they evoke feelings of home and magic and family for me, all things I needed a dose of at the time.

Any time I need to believe in love again, I re-read I’ll Give You the Sun. When I want to feel a fun summer feeling, I’ll pick up one of Elin Hilderbrand’s novels.  I just re-read the entire Harry Potter series which made me feel so happy and re-connected to my childhood. I’ve read Tiny Beautiful Things at least four times, because it makes me feel alive. This food memoir really gets me for some reason, I’ve read it three times. I can easily see myself re-reading the Beartown series. Really, anything on this list I will probably eventually (or already have) re-read several times.

I feel very gratified that Gretchen Rubin agrees with me since she often says, “The best reading is re-reading.” But how do you feel? I would love to know if you’re Team Re-Read, or Team There Are Too Many Books In The World!

I read an article the other day (in a real magazine, so I can only find an excerpt of it online here) about a woman who runs reading retreats. Yes, you read that right: retreats designed only to help give you the space, peace and quiet to read lots of books. (Small sidebar to say: how can I either host or attend one of these?!)

In the article, the literature coach who runs these retreats gave some advice about how to get more reading done in your real life, not to mention at the retreats themselves. Speaking about the major allure of our screens and social media profiles and the constant distractions that threaten to take us out of our books, she says:

“Just make sure that you keep at it for the first six to ten minutes, at which point you’ll be absorbed by the story.”

I liked the elegant simplicity of this advice, but also the extreme pragmatism it suggests. Making time for the things we love is simple, she suggests! Just force yourself to sit down, start the process, and stay with it until the activity takes on a life of its own. Stick with it until the motivation loop becomes self-rewarding – until you’re getting rewards from the activity itself.

As I talked about in my episode on intrinsic motivation, most things that are worthwhile in life don’t come with much validation from the outside world, especially not initially. If you want to stick with something that brings value to your life, you’re going to need to find reasons to do so that have nothing to do with praise, attention, or any other external marker of success. You’re going to need to experience all the quieter, simpler rewards that the activity itself gives you, which will in turn motivate you to keep coming back for more.

I love this idea that it might only take 6-10 minutes to start experiencing intrinsic rewards, whether that’s through reading, writing, dancing, music-making, podcasting, whatever. 6-10 minutes is nothing. I can do almost anything for 6-10 minutes. Call it the price of admission to contented absorption, to happiness, to intrinsic motivation. 

And guess what? Last night I gave myself 6-10 minutes of focused reading to get into a book….and then promptly didn’t move from the couch for hours and the book was so good. Turns out the price of admission is absolutely worth the cost. 

I’ve been thinking about this idea a lot lately as I move through the world. It feels important to me as a mantra, a shorthand for my values and my purpose. I want to have a positive impact on the world, and I always have to remember that can also happen in tiny micro-interactions or situations that no one else witnesses.

When I say “things”, I mean everything: places, objects, situations, people. What does it mean to leave everything better than I found it? Obviously, it means different things in different contexts, but generally speaking, this kind of prompt running through my head helps me know what needs to be done.

With a messy bathroom at a café or restaurant: I’ll pick up the paper towels off the floor and change the toilet paper roll if it ran out.

With a friend who is upset about something: I’ll listen carefully, stay really present, and try to say comforting things.

With a client who feels overwhelmed and confused: I’ll help set them up with new systems & routines that work more smoothly.

No matter what situation you’re entering, what would it mean to leave it better than you found it? You could also think about this the other way: what would it mean to interact with a situation so that when you leave it, you’re better than when you found it? Would that help you show up more fully, listen thoughtfully, and consistently try to learn and grow from every interaction? I think it would.

I spent some time just now Googling: “Does Seth Godin blog on holidays?”. (Un)fortunately for me, there weren’t really any results, at least not any that would allow me to write myself a permission slip to take today (Canada Day, here in Canada) off from my daily writing practice.

Of course, I don’t really need a permission slip – this is my habit, which I’m establishing for my benefit, which affects almost nobody besides me. I could stop whenever I wanted to! I could never write another blog post after today! I could throw in the towel on the whole thing, and almost nobody besides me would care.

But I would care. It would matter to me, and if I skipped it often enough, I would get back to the place I was when I decided to establish the habit in the first place: feeling like I was missing something in my life. It makes me wonder: why do I constantly want so badly to “get out of” the habits that I put in place for my own benefit? Meditating, writing, exercising: these are things that improve my wellbeing. Why are they always the first to go?

This reminds me of a blog post I wrote several years ago now: Who Are You Doing a Favour? Upon re-reading it just now, I realized a couple things:

1. I’ve been struggling with this for years, and probably will for years to come.

2. Some of the habits I mentioned in that post (like washing my face!) I no longer EVER try to “get out of”. They’re an established part of my routine and I never question them or skip a day.

It seems like the solution is to stick with habits long enough that they become a mundane part of your day that you never even think to question, let alone skip. So, here we are. It’s Monday, and this is my weekday blog post, holiday be damned.