As I read books I fold the top corners of any pages that contain words that move me.  Usually it’s something profound, or a line that resonates with what is going on in my life.  Sometimes it’s only relevant in the moment. Like a line about a strangers outstanding beauty, which I read while at the beach and a stranger with outstanding beauty happens to walk by.  Sometimes it is relevant to larger life questions/ethical-decisions/pursuits. Sometimes it’s just clever word-play.

Once I have finished the book, I go back through the dog-eared pages and read them again. I decided that I wouldn’t capture the quotations that I liked as I was reading so that my reading wasn’t interrupted and so that there was some form of quality-assurance. I find that I am unable to identify the quote on about half the dog-eared pages that I originally thought warranted the dog-earring. The ones that survive the QA process make it into a Google Spreadsheet document that I’ve been keeping.  It documents the book, author, copyright date, chapter, page and of course the quotation itself. Every now and then (usually when I go to add a quotation to the document), I like to read through all the quotations that have made the cut. More importantly, all the quotations that have made an impact.

I love learning new things, and reading helps me to do that. I love reading that others have shared my feelings or thoughts before me (and have been clever enough to juice their mind grapes into written word). I love hearing stories about long ago, the future, and even the present. But mostly, I love being moved. I love music for those few songs that move me, and I love reading for those few lines (sometimes there are only one or two in a book) that move me. So naturally, I enjoy a collection of those lines, in a single Google Document. A spread-sheeted validation of my emotions, of my belonging, of my existence.

I often wonder while reading the quotes I have chosen to capture whether or not someone else would have chosen the same ones. By reading the lines from a book that moved me the most, could that give others insight into who I am and how to better emotionally invest in me, or at least how I invest emotionally in the world around me? I’m not sure. Maybe one day I’ll enjoy finding out. Until then, I’d like to leave you with a quote that I recently read. I won’t tell you who said it, or where it’s from, because the words themselves are significant enough to me without any greater context (other than my own life).

“Woman, you have lived! Did you think you could get through life with only scratches? That is not living. It’s hiding.”

I’d bet that if I imbibed alcohol, scotch would be my pick of poison.  Alas, I am not (yet) a gambler, or (yet) consumer of alcohol. But everyone has a vice (as they should), and polar bears and I happen to share the same beverage of choice: Coca-Cola.  It’s not something I keep on hand around the house, because I can’t.  Not for lack of trying.  If there is coke to be found in the house, I will consume it. This makes keeping it around the house an impossible task (even for someone whose restraint is as finely-tuned as my own).

Recently however another fluid has been filling the hole in my heart, and it was least expected (is this how it always works?).  Many years ago, when I was a younger and more active version of my current self, I used to try drinking Gatorade and Powerade but they would usually result in headaches.  Too sweet, too many electrolytes, who knows?  I swore them off for a decade.  Flash-forward to several months ago. I found myself half-way up a mountain and out of water, so I was left with no other option but to hydrate with the Gatorade that Aimee had brought with her.  This was my first mistake.  Like Jesus and his AA, Gatorade is designed to prey on the weak.  Not only is it intended to hydrate you when you are in dire straights, but it is designed to do it so well that it replaces your urge to drink the fundamental element of life: water.

Several months later, and I am sitting here with neon yellow fluid surging through my body.  In a glass, on the rocks, with a splash. I get lost somewhere between the Lemon and Lime. And it feels so good.