As a librarian—and now as an occasional bookseller, I have said to the people who approached me with frustration at not liking the book they recently read— Before you dismiss it entirely, consider that it might not be about the book…it might be about the moment. Keep your mind, eyes, instinct, open for the book that suits your moment.

Maybe some books that you Think (or someone else thinks) you should read will never find the right moment. That’s ok. It isn’t a slight to either the reader or the author. Sometimes we make do with filler reads—books that will do, are ok, fine, sustaining, briefly satisfying. But really, is there anything more glorious then when by dint of the stars’ alignment and the synchronicity of attraction, instinct, and content, The Right Book settles into your hands at just The Right Moment?

I have been in turns swimming, treading, and floating, in such synchronicity for several weeks now.

The book is the paperback edition of Beauty by John O’Donohue.

Why did I pick it up off the shelf at Bookmark? In part, because of the book as an object. It is a well-bound paperback with good flop—you can open the book wide enough to easily read the whole spread of the two visible pages without the danger of cracking the spine. It closes back up with a confident ‘thimp’ (not long enough for a solid ‘thump’) and no evidence of curl on either cover. And speaking of covers…It’s a winning combination of colours and fonts that reflect the content. Attractive to the eye and engaging to consider in and of itself.

And then I started reading it. Oh my goodness. Not only is it speaking to ideas I am currently considering for different reasons, it has taken me back to childhood and experiences/thoughts I had then that have been foundational to how I understand God, the Universe, and my ways of living, moving, and having being within it all.

A sample:

Though we live mostly in the visible world and our personalities, roles, and work distinguish and identify us externally, we dwell more forcefully elsewhere. A person can dwell inside a thought. Sometimes a thought is the most intimate and sacred temple, a place where the silence of the earth is wed to the fire of heaven. (Beauty, p, 43)

It’s one of those books where I regularly wonder of the author—Have we met?? even though I know we have not.

This is the first blog entry about this book—the encounter with it. There will be some that follow as I develop the idea of wonder as prayer.

I wish you all book company that leaves you with the feeling of not wanting to binge, though one could easily do so. Book company that asks to linger with the reader, walk with the reader, a book that in some ways asks to Be company for you because it found in you a most hospitable companion.