It is Date Day. The capitalization of it makes it seem more routine, formal. It isn't. Dates with the significant other aren't easy to come by, but when they do happen, usually as the result of much effort, they are always better than planned. To be honest, this is our first Date Day in months. Easier is scrolling on phones and meaningless chores and distractions that seem innumerable. Yet here we were, Date Day.
In the car with plans to fill up an entire afternoon, we chatted easily, some about our history and some about what is to come. We stopped at Ridgefield to do the auto tour of the wetlands. Swans and herons dotted various pools of muddy water. Ducks, the boring ones (is there such a thing), and others with plumage and colors beyond imagination. I constantly wonder how those white and green feathers stay so spotless after hours on hours in muddy, brown water. I still don't know; they just do.
Into Portland we went and off to Harlow's for lunch. Vegan fare where eating our rainbow is not difficult. Plants dotted the scene, light poured in from the sidewalk windows. On top of all of this, feeling excessive at this point, the food was amazing. The Liquid Sunshine smoothie couldn't have been more accurate of a title. It was as if joy could be consumed.
And while there was a Powell's Books not even a tofu's throw from Harlow's entrance, we didn't want just any Powell's Books, we wanted the Powell's City of Books. Neither of us had been. Downtown in the center of what can only be described as 'bustle', we walked into an amusement park of ideas and thoughts and rhymes and pictures. Libraries evoke this same feeling, but this city of books was massive and wonderful and brought about some awe. People walked about as if they knew where they were going and what they were looking for. Good for them. Show-offs! I was lost and I liked it.
I finally found the poetry section. Did you know they have a poetry criticism section? People actually write books about other people's poetry. This seems inane, unnecessary. In line with my morals, I didn't even look at books in that section.
While scanning for poets I know and looking for ones I didn't, a man approached the woman sitting under the giant 'i' sign at the end of the aisle. He says in a hesitant tone "I'm looking for a book." The I'm was drawn out, showing a complete lack of confidence. The woman responds with "We have a lot of books.' Her tone was slightly condescending He comes back with, "I know, but it's by this one author." I looked up to see the same 'i' above her screen-printed on his sleeve in a bright yellow. Powell's employee humor. They made me think about how silly we - the ones without an 'i' on our chests or above our heads - must sound when we are lost and trying to find the thing to make us un-lost.
I didn't expect to buy any books. I thought I might just enjoy the perusing. I thought this might be more of a stop of enjoyment for the wife. Instead I found myself running through my Amazon 'Saved for Later' list and working my way up and down aisles until my hands were struggling to hold and browse simultaneously. I felt giddy, exuberant. Authors like Maggie Smith, Ross Gay, Wendell Berry, and others. I bought books containing words and sentences and ideas of humans I have only had brushes with in life - poetry classes, sermons, books talking about other books, podcasts. I cannot wait.
We moved on to Washington Park where we found some non-liquid sunshine and sat on a park bench. We sat there long enough for the sun to lose us once again and for love to have been warmed in our chests. Date Day is an unmitigated success and I am left wondering, Why don't we do this more often?
Today, I turned some pages in the books I rescued (it sounds more noble this way, does it not?). And just a few pages in on How to Fight by Thich Nhat Hang and The Book of Delights by Ross Gay I find myself motivated, inspired, a bit higher into my better self. What a delight to see the world in new words and helplessly find myself wondering in these new ways about old things. Even this blog title pulled directly from Ross's words, is causing me pause. All my life I have strived for efficiency, for some next thing, better, faster, smarter things. Yet, what a privilege is the delight of inefficiency. And while there can be satisfaction and productivity in efficiency, some of the most beautiful things this world offers come from an attentive, intentional inefficiency. And so I write and dream and think in new words. And love and delight commingle and life feels just a bit more full. I wish for you the same...or at the very least a Date Day with yourself and a book store.
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