the little free shelf

Small reminders for the road 

Some things are meant to be read.

Some are meant to be carried.

You don't have to remember everything you find here.

You don't have to change your life before leaving.

You don't need to make a plan.

Perhaps there is simply one thought that feels worth keeping.

One sentence.

One permission.

One small reminder that might find its way back to you when you need it.

Take that one.

There is no checkout desk.

And you never have to bring it back.

A Little Shelf Near the Door

Think of this as one of those small shelves where everything has been left freely for whoever happens to need it next.

Only here, instead of books, you may find a reminder.

A little courage.

A question worth carrying.

Permission to rest.

Something that helps you put down what was never yours.

A reason to remain astonishable.

A few words for beginning again.

Nothing here needs to be earned.

Nothing needs to be returned.

And if something you find here helps you, perhaps one day you will pass it along—in your own words, in your own way—to someone who needs it next.

That is how small things travel.

From one hand to another.

From one heart to another.

Sometimes much farther than we will ever know.

on the shelf

Take your time.

You don't have to read these in order.

You don't have to read them all.

Perhaps a title will catch your attention.
Perhaps one will feel strangely familiar.
Perhaps you'll simply know which one you need today.

Trust that.

Open it.

Stay as long as you like.

And if you find something worth carrying—

it's yours to take.

BEFORE YOU GO 

You don't have to take all of these with you.

One is enough.

Perhaps even one sentence is enough.

Choose the one that keeps tugging at your sleeve.

Fold it small.

Put it somewhere you can find it again.

And someday, when you discover that you don't need those particular words quite as much anymore, consider giving them away.

Leave them in a book.

Tuck them into a lunch.

Send them to a friend.

Write them on another piece of paper and leave them somewhere unexpected.

Because perhaps the things that help us were never meant to remain entirely ours.

Perhaps some things are meant to travel.

Take what you need.

Pass along what you can.