Serendipity

Serendipity

The wind whips at my face. I tighten my coat, pull the collar up, and brace against the cold as I stride across the parking lot to Barnes & Noble.

Winter feels like a harsh time of year to buy books.
But thirst and the burning need to know how anyone can be happy in a world full of suffering, pain, and insanity, culminating in death? compels me to make the trek.

Inside, warmth and light surround me. I unzip my coat and go into the store. The shelves stretch endlessly, a maze with no map—and I have no idea where to begin.

I wander past other treasure hunters as if we share a common bond. I feel the spirit of discovery with every step as I meander from section to section. Some unseen current pulls me toward philosophy, psychology, and religion.

I’ve never seen books like these before:
The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig.
Gödel, Escher, Bach by Douglas Hofstadter.

Running my fingers across their spines, I wonder what they might contain.

I ease each book from the shelf and read its jacket.
Campbell’s call to adventure invites.
Pirsig’s quest intrigues.
Hofstadter’s paradoxes perplex.

Like the treasure chests I didn’t even know I was seeking, I’ve found what I need.

Back outside, the wind cuts through my hair.
It’s still freezing.
But somehow, I don’t seem to mind.

I don’t find the answer I seek that day. Instead, they cause me to question reality and my sanity.