Books Are Masks

As I struggled through today — still depressed over missing the August96 Moms reunion — I slept away most of the morning. I just couldn’t help it:  I came home from driving Moose to school and settled into the Lazy Mom chair, fully intending to lose myself in a book. After reading a couple of pages, my eyelids drooped, and I fell asleep. Strange dream-snippets and a phone call interrupted my fitful nap until about midday.

Nibbling a little lunch while reading my book, I had a revelation:  books are analogous to masks. Masks hide our faces, or we hide behind masks. We use masks to disguise ourselves or lose ourselves to alternate personas, if only for a short while. But, we also lose ourselves in books. How many times have you been so immersed in a good book that you completely lost your sense of time and place? Great writing or great stories transport us away from the temporal into the spiritual world. I suppose that’s what my brain (or subconscious or soul) needed today:  to rest and recharge and escape the ugliness of life for a  while.

When you need a break, how do you indulge yourself and feed your soul?

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