I trust you to find beauty in your own ways.

Maybe you remember the blog posts I wrote about Dobby’s and Dumbledore’s deaths in Harry Potter. I meant to write another one about Sirius‘ death, but found it impossible to do so as long as I tried to explain what was wrong about it and didn‘t look at what was beautiful. I don‘t have to explain it to you, because I trust you to find beauty in your own ways. I can‘t show you, I can just tell you it’s there for me.

I don‘t worry about spoiling the books for you for exactly the same reasons. If I know who dies and I think that is wrong, I won‘t want to read the books. If I read the books in order to find beauty or clarity or joy or truth, I am confident that I will find it.

That’s why there are no bad books for me now. I can read and enjoy any book in the world on my terms, and I don‘t try to do it on the authors‘ or my literature professors‘ terms any more. Not because I am smarter, just because I am me. I can open a book in a language I have never heard before, full of symbols I have never seen before, and I will find beauty in it.

I live in a world of abundance. My life is so beautiful this way that I don‘t worry about death. Even if other ways would lengthen my life, loosing my sense of wonder isn‘t worth it.