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The universe is just a confusing and irreverent library

After many years of dreaming with this moment, and after several weeks of hard work, I finally organized my library according to the topics of my own choosing. This experience left me simultaneously happy as a child with a new toy and perplexed because now –in a tiny scale– I understand what Borges said when he wrote that the universe is just a library.

In 1941, Argentinean writer Borges wrote The Library of Babel, a short story included in his collection The Garden of Forking Paths. In his story, Borges identifies the universe with a library. According to Borges, the meaning of life perhaps is to look for the “catalog of catalogs,” an impossible and useless quest.

Obviously, I am infinitely removed from the genius of Borges, from his understanding of libraries, and from his knowledge of kabbalah. I can only say that the experience of organizing my personal library in the basement of my home, so remotely connected with The Library of Babel, gave a new understanding of that story.

As Borges suggested, organizing a library is like creating a new universe. I know it is an ephemeral and insignificant universe, but at least is mine.

I tried my best to group books according to the topics of my interest: philosophy, theology, public speaking, literature, business. However, in spite of my best efforts, some odd results took me by surprise.

For example, in my new universe/library, a book about Leonardo Da Vinci is next to a book about the Sphinx, forcing me to find a connection between the great Italian artist and the great Egyptian monument. And the books by Isabel Allende are next to a collection of books on denominations, sects, and religious groups. Perhaps the whole world is just a huge “house of the spirits.”

A book about James Buchanan, U.S. president from 1857-1861, now sits next to a book about the history of the Roman Empire. I do not know if it was just coincidence, or if my subconscious mind is connecting ancient Rome with modern America, as many people now do.

Also, due to their respective sizes, the selected works by the Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset are next to an English translation of the Bhagavad-Gita, forcing to think again about the connection between ancient Indian thought and European philosophy in the 20th century.

However, what is the point of knowing where my books by Aristotle and Plato are if in Colorado, where I live, there are 185,000 persons under 18 with hunger?

What is the point of having a neatly organized library if, in spite of new federal directives, 70 percent of immigrants deported did not commit any crime, according to new research published by the nonprofit Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse at Syracuse University?

I think the point is to find new connections to challenge my intellectual drowsiness. Perhaps that is why the classic book by Gordon Allport about the nature of prejudice sits next to the book by Thomas Friedman about globalization.  

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