The Comfort of Old Books
The world rewards immediacy and loudness. It’s true in our news, our entertainment, and our politics. You win by being first, by being brash, by being outrageous.
I’m taking shelter from this world in old books. Most books would do just fine, but it’s the old ones that offer the deepest calm. They speak softly while saying a great deal. They remind us of things that are enduring and true.
Last December I read Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius. It’s a short collection of his daily writings. It’s full of reminders to himself about how to live, simple wisdoms like, “Pass your life in truth and justice, with a benevolent disposition even to liars and unjust men” and “Do not let the future disturb you, for you will arrive there, if you arrive, with the same reason you now apply to the present.”
Reading Meditations was itself meditative: the paper pages a break from screen light; the simple reminders a break from grandiose concerns. You could find a similar comfort in countless old books, and in the thrashing about of our politics and social media streams, it’s a comfort worth returning to — and exploring anew.
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