It started when my husband needed to replace an electrical outlet behind one of my two crammed bookcases. I emptied all the books into the middle of my office floor so the bookcase would be light enough to move away from the wall.

When it was time to move the books back, I decided I should go through them and pare down.  As for criteria, I would consider: Do I refer to them? Will I re-read them?  Sounded simple enough.

But when I turned to the pile I froze. Some of these books influenced me greatly.  I was sentimental about them. “Molecules of Emotions” by Candice Pert, “The Mind of the Strategist” by Kenichi Ohmae,  Marvin Weisbord’s “Organizational Diagnosis,” “Everyday Miracles” by David Spangler,  “Focusing” by Eugene Gendlin, M.Scott Myers’ “Every Employee a Manager,  “How to make Meetings Work” by Doyle and Straus. There were Enneagram books, coaching books, self-help books, Spiritual books.

My fondness for these physical books made me wonder what magical powers I’d attributed to their printed pages. In a sense, these books defined me. Sitting on shelves, they were visible signposts of my journey through life.  I appreciated their gifts. They seemed like faithful friends.

But going through them, I realized that over the years I’ve incorporated their ideas into my own understanding and way of working. I didn’t need them any more as testimony to my own learning, nor as talismans against my own deficiencies. I began to appreciate what I now knew; the knowledge I carried within me. It was not only OK to let the books go, it was time. So I sorted and got sacks ready to take to Half Priced Books.

May someone else find them as helpful as I did.