reading and listening to music: the triumphs of being not myself
Susan Sontag, Pilgrimage
It started with my mobile – old, about four, five years old – which had reached its storage limit. And I thought, that’s right. Too much and too many. So instead of adding storage – more, more, more – I started letting go. Removing. Deleting. Images. Files. Applications. Accounts. Email lists. Subscriptions.
I began to hear the space, to feel my thinking, to let things be. I returned to reading for the act in and of itself, without a question in mind, without a purpose or a deadline. A gift of time. Let the body chose the words it needs: what calls? The cover – the title – the cover image – the first line – a page opened at random and a word?
And it continues. The shedding. And in doing so, a containment of sorts. An affirmation. Re-affirmation. Con-firmation. What is it we tell ourselves we need – or can release – with all this virtual and physical stuff? To remind ourselves of who we are? Or to be someone else?
Above, a photograph of books currently in progress or recently read:
- Mary O’Donoghue The Hour After Happy Hour
- Johanna Hedva Your Love Is Not Good
- Amy Key Arrangements In Blue
- The Paris Review 243
- Susan Sontag Stories
- Not pictured but recently read: Helen Blackhurst Swimming on Dry Land and Alison Wells Random Acts Of Optimism.
While I have disconnected myself from Twitter/X, and will, into the future, very occasionally use Instagram and Facebook, you can still connect with me through this blog.
Shauna Gilligan Writer 