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Reminiscing About the Stacks of Books

I've spend stupid amounts of money on books in my life. When I wanted to learn about a topic, I'd go to Amazon and order the top 5 to 10 books in its category. If I saw a book referenced in a few papers on science I read, I'd add it to the cart, and buy it the next time I ordered a stack of 10-20 books.

I figured it was better to have books lying around unread than to miss the opportunity to read on a topic when I was inspired. Books piled up on history, governance, economics, investing, finance, marketing, business, psychology, biographies, time management, habits, willpower, discipline, creativity, writing, selling, publishing, technology, innovation, philosophy, and, umm, lots more. Fiction too, though I didn't read fiction for a while because I thought it was a waste of time. (I was mistaken on that point.)

At least half of those books never got opened up. But it didn't matter. Books were so ridiculously underpriced compared to what they're potentially worth, that I thought it was worth it to have a copies on hand that I could break open to look something up, or check a controversial study's results. I had books on health and nutrition and biochemistry, and man, those were a nightmare contradicting each other.

I was never good at predicting what I'd want to read, so I'd keep a mix of things onhand in case I got inspired, or hit a roadblock and needed to learn more.

There were auxilliary benefits too. I must have bought Michael Gerber's "The E-Myth Revisited" at least a dozen times, because I kept giving a copy away to people who hadn't read it. Everyone who runs a small business should read that book.

More on Attachment

A couple of good comments yesterday on "No Attachment to Dust," which was quoting a short story from the book Zen Flesh, Zen Bones.

Christopher Lovejoy commented on the line, "Poverty is your treasure. Never exchange it for an easy life." He asked -

I ask you with sincerity: in your travels, have you ever had a glimpse of poverty as a condition to be treasured, either for yourself or for others?

If so, what were your impressions? Could such a condition be lived on a permanent basis? Or do you believe such a condition is best experienced as temporary?

Great questions and good critical thinking. A few points.

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