There’s usually at least one library book in my house.

Some, say, every Lisa Scottoline thriller ever, I devour in a single sitting. Others, nonfiction on the should-read list, gather dust until an overdue notice pings on my phone.

I’m thrilled to be savoring my current library book, Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass.

After waves of FOMO when it seemed everyone I knew was reading it not long ago, I’m grateful that a Facebook connection I barely know posted a link that led me to check it out from the library last week. Since I’ve discovered it’s the kind of book that calls for multiple readings and notes in the margins, I ordered a copy as a gift to myself.

May all my holiday shopping be so ease-filled, since, no matter the positive energy and self-coaching I bring to the task, finding great gifts for family, friends, the yet-unknown recipient of the gift I bring to the Yankee Swap remains stressful.

Longing for Gifts

A great longing is upon us, to live in a world made of gifts.

I agree with Kimmerer, and think she would agree that we are a part of the world that is made of gifts. Gifts that serve others, as well as ourselves, when we share them.

Imagine the joy that would replace the longing in a world where we both embrace and share our values, strengths, and priorities as gifts.

Imagine the longing if we don’t share our gifts.

Know, Grow, Share

I’m not suggesting we do away with giving physical gifts, or stop reading library books or giving books as gifts.

I am proposing that we gift ourselves, and the world, by knowing, growing, and using our values and strengths and by living in ways that are aligned with our priorities.

Try this to get started:

To paraphrase Kimmerer, what else can we give but something of ourselves?

 

I help professionals who want to make a difference in the world. Learn more about how I can help you navigate your right life with more ease and joy. Book a complimentary consultation here.

Photo by Tracy Mackall on pixabay. Used with permission
Spread the love
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •