My house is full of bookcases, and there are shelves that overflow with my good intentions.

I want to be a serene, strong person with inner calm and great posture, and thus I have an entire shelf dedicated to yoga. Unfortunately, my spine is as stiff and unyielding as the books’. We’d both be more flexible if I cracked our spines more often. 

The yoga books share a shelf with the titles mirroring my other good intentions. I aspire to be a spiritual person who spends some time each day considering my faith and the wisdom of others. I have books with quotes, essays, and readings on simple abundance, prayers, meditation, Christianity, and women’s issues. They share dust with the yoga books.  How cozy.

Above the yoga and inspirational titles is an entire shelf of French books, dictionaries, and language CDs. I studied them regularly BEFORE I moved to Belgium but now that I’m here, I can’t seem to make it a habit. DUH.

I’m not totally apathetic. I occasionally read the books on writing, but mostly I just write. I occasionally read books on organization, but mostly I just organize. I have lots of cookbooks but mostly I just cook (or not—let’s be honest).

I’m moving through my shelves of unread novels at glacial speed. I have books of poetry that satisfy like nothing else—when I spend time with them. I don’t even pretend to read about history, politics, or science—unless it shows up on CNN.com.

My life is virtual in more ways than one. I only look good on paper. I don’t need to tell you my New Year’s resolutions, do I? I didn’t think so.

Inhale, exhale, don’t hold your breath. I’m changing as fast as I can.

© 2005 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved.

December 30, 2005