Brilliant!

I thought about a library the other day. I imagined the stacks and stacks of books. I saw the dust that accompanies the thickly bound multi-volumes, which are rarely, if ever, taken off the shelf. I envisioned the rows upon rows of pages and pages of paper all containing words that tell stories, prove points and convey facts and theories. I pictured the lab rooms filled with computers now connected to libraries as far as Moscow so that we have the power to read beyond the prior limitations of time and space. I ruminated on the overwhelming amount of knowledge and thought tangibly located within the bounds of these walls and couldn't help but think, (and I think you know where I'm going with this) "No wonder people come here to party. Brilliant!"

... okay. Maybe you weren't thinking that. And if you were, I'd be surprised. The library is a place where we speak in whispers and pretend we're hard at work while checking facebook. Loud outbursts and other ruckus behaviors are often looked down upon because... well... it's a library. You go here to concentrate and think brilliantly, not launch into fits of joy.

I, however, wonder if we have lost touch with what it means to 'think brilliantly' and how we ought to respond to truly 'brilliant thought.' The original meaning of the word "brilliant" was ascribed to elements or objects that shine with such ferocious complexity that the only proper response is to stare. A brilliant star is the one that outshines the others and invites you to say, "All you other stars suck!" When something is brilliant, we notice it.

Another interesting attribute of the truly brilliant is that it comes with a little buddy named "Joy". When I say, "Joy," please don't jump to the idea of "happy." Being happy is great, but I'm thinking of something deeper. A good friend of mine once said, "Within 'JOY' are four key characteristics: gratitude, humility, awe, and mirth (humor). " Going back to the star imagery, when I see a brilliant, starry sky, I am quickly filled with an awareness of how thankful I am to see this, how small I truly am, how amazing and mysterious this world is, and how comical it is that this stuff happens even when nobody sees it.

In the face of the truly brilliant, joy should be quick to follow.

So let's go back to the library. Here I have the potential to find page after page of brilliant thoughts, yet I and those around me speak with whispers and try to keep to ourselves. Worse yet, we don't even go in or enter the conversation because we are more distracted by the brilliant, high-resolution screens on our touch-screen phones than we are with brilliant thought.

Now that I have you thoroughly confused with my ramblings and tangents, I'm going to share with you my intentions in writing this blog. I'm not an advocate for the local library. This is a call to think brilliantly and joyfully.

Read books and enter conversations with a childlike wonder that allows you to smile when it finally "clicks." Don't be further indoctrinated by the cram and regurgitate model of education and don't be hindered by the fear of looking stupid. Long for those moments when reading feels like a direct conversation with the author and after she has made her point, your natural response, laughing and with a smile on your face, is, "You son of a bitch..." Ask questions, listen to those who disagree with you, and always be looking for those flashes of brilliance that make you stop in your tracks, stare without shame, and whisper with wide eyes, "Wow..."

What if our libraries buzzed with the explosive nature of a charismatic worship service with random shouts of "Yes!" and "Holy Shit!" resounding through the stacks and stacks of books and pages?

Now is the time to be brilliant. Now is the time to be joyful. The world needs it and so do we.