I finished Relish in the Thread with urgency, not because of time, but because of presence. The author was a guest in my home, and I wanted the book to be finished before he left. Not as a courtesy, but as a completion. Some books ask to be read. This one asked to be met.
Reading this book at this moment of my life was not a coincidence. It felt more like a call. I am a traveler too. Not always in geography, but always in direction. I have struggled with accepting the fact that I am already on the Way. I try not to be. I try to blend in. Maybe I try to blend out. I am no longer sure.
Yet this book holds a quiet, uncomfortable truth.
The truth of being.
The truth of the Way.
We lose ourselves in moments, in places, in people… until we don’t. And perhaps the scariest thing is not being lost, but being found. Found by someone else, or worse, by ourselves. Because once you truly find it, the search loses its meaning.
And I am in love with the searching.
I think we all are. Whether we confess it or not. That is what makes us human. Traveling, then, becomes an excuse to get lost again. To ensure there is still something left to find at the end.
Lately, I have been asking myself a dangerous question:
What if I solved everything?
Then what?
Would I forget, just to search again?
This book does not offer answers. It does something far more honest. It reminds you why you walk, why you hesitate, and why you keep going anyway.
Reasoning is the only way.
Time is the only measure.
The Way is the only truth.
And this book knows it.