We will be moving at the beginning or the end of September, whenever the townhouse is ready, but I always like to pack early. I do not like to rush memories and that is what I always feel like I am packing.

Not everything is getting boxed yet of course, all my candle supplies are out, autumn approachs, which is a busier time for my business and I have left five books out, as well as clothing, kitchen stuff and a couple ritual supplies. I have quite a lot more to pack from all the closets still, that will be an adventure.

Books probably take up the most space of all the items I own, except maybe candles. I have read and reread them all – save a couple of Michael’s Stephen King ones. 90% of my books are non-fiction and maybe a quarter of those are spiritual autobiographies, my favorite genre at the moment.

It is funny really, how much I adore reading. I use to hate it as a child, I never was at the same level as my classes, so the teacher would force me to read out loud. It was extremely difficult for me and I constantly swapped words around or skipped entire lines without noticing. At one point I came home crying and my mother went to school and yelled at the teacher, which was quite embarrassing but I wasn’t asked to read out loud anymore! It was also around that time I was “diagnosed” with dyslexia and went through some therapy for it.

I do not think anyone enjoys being told they have a learning disorder, and I still try really hard not to see it that way, after all because of it I have developed quite a good memory for spoken words. In retrospect, it seems like I fought my parents every ounce of the way through therapy and hooked-on-phonics, but now as an older and maybe wise person now I am truly grateful they made me do it. I do not think I would love reading so much now if it had not of been for that.

I still have my moments of course, I still dislike reading out loud and when I look at pages in books sometimes I don’t see the letters but rather the shapes the spaces between the words create. I reread all my blog posts many upon many times and I know that I still make mistakes. (Woe be to the person who ever gets their hands on my handwritten journal, dyslexia works better the writing in code!)

This past Lughnasadh I was counting up from a guided meditation and went 5, 4, 3, 1! Which while embarrassing, I try to take it with a laugh and bow and cheer for all my fellow dyslexics to untie!

Laughter is the best medicine. Cliche but an amazing life lesson to see the truth in.