Hybrid Beings
It’s because books are made of paper. Because they're made of trees. Made of something that was living, breathing thing. That it makes you think they still could be. That it makes you believe that they still do.
Even bound and covered, they never stop releasing oxygen. Never stop planting seeds. Never stop taking root. They never stop trying to reach up and out. never stop trying to branch and grow They never stop trying to help us do the same.
Jordan Ellenberg says that “A book needs us more than we need it.” You could say that’s partly true. But, do you think that’s it? To me, it feels more like a symbiosis. Like something more reciprocal.
We give books our skin cells and our fingertips. Our Heartbeats and our tears. They give us stillness, and safety, and shelter. A place to home to. A place to wonder, to hope, to feel. They become a part of us, and we become a part of them. We become hybrid-beings. An intricate amalgamation. A strange inter-mingling. Part human, part book, part tree
The tree part knows that there’s no rushing some things. That they only happen when they’re good and ready. When everything is as it should be. When everything is in its proper place. The tree part understands time and patience. Knows how to stay steady. Knows what it means to wait.
It’s the human part that’s well acquainted with temporality. With the ephemeral. With possibility. The human part knows how everything can be different in an instant. How everything can change. It’s the human part that knows that it's a blessing and knows that it’s a curse.
The book part knows all about presence and steadfastness. About immutability. About the constancy of some things. The book part knows that some things are dependable. That no matter what, some things endure. The book part knows how to hold on to things. Knows how to keep them safe. Knows how to hold space.
But, all the living parts still need things.
The tree part still needs sun and light. Water and air. The human part needs to loving, more caring for. The book part needs you to listen. Needs holding. Needs to be heard.
After every book I finish, I try to find the best way to sow the tree part back into the world. To put the book part back into welcoming hands. But, no matter where it goes, no matter what it comes to, it keeps a hold on the most human parts of me.
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