Because I am a lover of books, I
have my favorite “local” book stores wherever I end up at the end of a day’s
travel. Between Cannon Beach on the coast of Oregon and Rockland on the coast
of Maine, I have walked many miles without leaving their crowded aisles whose
shelves are well-known to me, but also ever-changing. It’s not just books that
fascinate me, but the people who like me gravitate to such places, and from whom
I often learn as much as from the inviting pages through which I roam. I have
especially come to appreciate the practice of my Oregon haunt to label books
which have earned the personal recommendation of a store employee or two with a
few words of commentary noted on a tag taped on the front of the shelf.
On such a recent visit, I mentioned
to a young store employee my interest in a particular subject. Within minutes I
was confronted by a growing stack of volumes she had gathered for my appraisal,
and among which was a “gem” which
answered all my questions, and which traveled home with me. (It is a book on TIDES
exploring the Science and Spirit of oceans from which I will draw hours of
pleasure and a wealth of seldom-visited knowledge; in short it has the promise
of adding something to my everyday life.
In the course of a one week visit, I
may end up purchasing only two or three selected volumes, but chances are I
will have pages of notes and observations; new ideas and a plethora of words
and quotations, and often new story ideas which will find their way onto my
desktop and onto future pages.
With all of this I yet face a
regular dilemma, wondering whether a particular idea deserves to become a
story, and even more importantly whether the story should be shared with others
or “treasured up” for self or sequestered fearing perhaps it will not seem
relevant or worthwhile or interesting to others. Pondering this troublesome
quandary, I ran into a reference to an ancient but still valid point of law
known as theft by finding.
In its earliest form in Medieval
times it posited the idea that if one finds something of value the owner of
which cannot be determined, it is alright to keep it as long as its value is
shared with others in some way, and not hoarded by the finder alone. The idea
really struck me: theft by finding! Is
this a concept worth exploring? Might it not apply to a story-teller who
develops or happens upon a story of value and then fails to share it with
others by its very telling!
Taped to the wall over the top of my
keyboard where my eyes can’t miss them are the four Japanese symbols for the
word ikigai,
the meaning of which in English would read the
reason for which I rise each day.
For me personally it asks the question “with the skills, talents, devotions and
passions which have been given to me as gifts,
am I being faithful; am I rising each day determined to share with others
something of value in what I do?” In a broader context, am I doing everything
within my power to nurture those talents, and in finding new ways to put them
to use in a world which continues to need every bit of person-to-person service
within reach?
Even on a personal level I find
relevance in the law of theft by finding,
and wonder whether I need to make room for one more sign on my wall!
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