Yesterday, I went to a bookstore.

I stood in front of the new arrivals, staring at a book with a face so familiar, it felt like a former colleague from a past life. I hesitated for a long time, have I bought this already?

In the end, I bought it anyway.

When I got home, I realized the truth: the author had published two books. I had bought both of them.

And then—somehow—bought both of them again.

So now I own two copies of each book. Four identical books in total. And I haven’t read a single one. Isn’t that strange? We only repeat what we haven’t truly finished.

Anything we’ve truly read, understood, or integrated, my brain becomes a strict gatekeeper and slaps me away: “Hey! You’ve done this already. Don’t come back.”

But not this book.

This book stays quiet, stubborn, mysterious. Again and again, it jumps out of the universe and taps my shoulder: “Hey. I’m still here. You haven’t read me yet.”

Suddenly I wondered maybe the book wants to be read. Maybe it doesn’t want to be a lonely soul lost in the vast sea of books. Maybe its energy is calling out: “Please. Stop treating me like decoration.”

Our lives are actually full of these kinds of signals. A person. A sentence. A scene. A thought. Or a small action that keeps repeating itself.

We think it’s coincidence. These are coded messages tailored specifically for us. It won’t give you a long lecture. It won’t analyze things like a teacher.

It just repeats. And repeats. And repeats again. Until one day we finally stop and say, “Alright. I hear you. I’ll read this book. I’ll walk in this direction.”

Maybe this is the universe’s gentleness. It never forces us. It just patiently places “the lesson we haven’t finished yet” in front of us, over and over again.

We don’t have to know why. We don’t need to reach enlightenment immediately. Just follow the line. The rest, the universe will arrange.

Some books are chosen by us. But some books… are here to choose us.



—— XC Scribbles · 肆拾 XL 📖