(I made an interesting observation today, and I cannot wait to hear your feedback. I think I’m onto something.)
I love bookstores. In fact, when I die, I would love to have the “sitting up,” a Southern thang, in the window of a small boutique bookstore. It would definitely draw in some business. However, my mortality is not the point of this post. I want to discuss energy.
Bookstores are full of all types of energy, ranging from depression to over the top excitement. As a coach, I’m really good at reading the energy of others, and today, I was like a kid in a candy shop, tapping into the diverse moods and spirits that pervaded the place.
I walked from section to section – fiction, World History, poetry, children’s, New Age – but when I rounded the corner to walk through the dieting aisle, I felt a sudden drop in energy. I didn’t just feel it on a superficial level, but it was a feeling that started in my gut and rose into my throat.
I watched a few women pick up different books that presented opposing theories. One woman held a copy of Skinny Bitch in one hand and The Atkins Diet in another. Her face screamed desperation and confusion. Another lady was holding a book on eating disorders. (It is not a coincidence that the dieting books are adjacent to the recovery/addiction section.)