On the Magical Beauty of Old Libraries

Ancient civilizations may have had a way of life far removed from our own, but they also held one thing dear: the power of the library. Old libraries have existed for thousands of years, from the collection of clay tablets in ancient Mesopotamia to the intellectual exchange of the Ancient Greeks in the Library of Alexandria. The age of technology contradicts the peaceful atmosphere of the library.

There is a call to learn how to forget, even momentarily, this rapid chaos of our minds and cities, and embrace the healing power of libraries. The Japanese practice of Shinrin-yoku, or ‘forest-bathing’, is about slowing down, reducing stress, and soaking ourselves in our magical surroundings. An approach like Shinrin-yoku may just be the key to reconnecting with the magical beauty of old libraries.

Practicing Shinrin-yoku in the Modern Day

Shinrin-yoku can be broken down into two parts: Shinrin, or ‘forest’ in English, and Yoku, which translates in English to ‘bath’. Shinrin-yoku, therefore, encapsulates the idea of forest-bathing, or submersing oneself in nature as a therapeutic practice.

The practice of forest-bathing is, as you might imagine, purposefully witnessing the world around you and therefore bathing yourself within your surroundings.

Shinrin-yoku was first introduced by the Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries in the 1980s as a method to address the rising levels of stress from rapid urbanization.

It was a call back to simpler things, asking people to reconnect with the earth by embracing nature and immersing the senses. Shinrin-Yoku seeks to engage all five senses through the power of observation. In a physical forest, one may notice a tiny leaf insect disguising itself at the foot of a tree or marvel at the way a light sprinkle of rain changes the scent of the forest. It occupies all your senses, helping you remove yourself from the chaos within your mind. In an old library, however, one may notice other things.

You could observe the way afternoon light dances on the tallest bookshelves, how even the silence takes on a certain kind of sound, or perhaps you will notice the smell of books far older than yourself. Shinrin-yoku may have been designed to be practiced in real, breathing forests, but we cannot deny that old libraries can provide an ecosystem of their own.

The Importance of Old Libraries in Modern Societies

Paris, the city of love, romance, and literature, is where libraries are arguably the beating hearts of the city. These libraries host art exhibitions, support communities, encourage literacy, and provide people a safe space to learn, revise, or just breathe.  In many cities, there is little access to forests or even vast natural expanses. Spaces like old libraries, therefore, serve as sanctuaries from the increasingly busy life of the city-dweller. The Bibliothèque François Mitterrand, located in the thirteenth arrondissement of Paris, features a beautiful 10,600 square meter forest garden in the center of the building.

Libraries like François Mitterrand illustrate the undeniable link between nature and libraries, the magic of solitude and observation. In smaller towns, libraries are so vital to societal ecosystems that studies have shown that regular library attendance can increase personal feelings of love and acceptance.

Literary Escape as a Portable Magic

There is a reason Stephen King once said, “Books are a uniquely portable magic,” and Mason Cooley said, “Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.” Whether it is fiction or non-fiction, historical, fantasy, philosophy, or a genre in-between, reading a good book can steal our minds like world-building thieves.

Take Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, a historical detective novel with deep philosophical and theological reflections. Eco takes readers on an atmospheric historical journey, transporting us from the room into another literary world. His world is so intricate and meticulous that it serves as an escape for those who embark on its literary journey.

Old libraries are spaces filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of book-shaped portals that can whisk you away to another world. Research findings and articles frequently use the word ‘magic’ when discussing libraries. A magical thing that can remove us from routine, that is a little extraordinary, that inspires and delights those who encounter it.

Old libraries possess such magical beauty; they are quiet and unassuming, resembling forests filled with things to observe and discover.  Whether we are walking a woodland trail or perusing the pages of a book, escape and mental transportation can provide a refuge for our demanding daily lives.

The Liberation of Knowledge in Old Libraries

Knowledge presents itself in many forms, if only one has the eye to notice it. Take a forest tree: each year a tree survives, it forms a new ring that often mirrors the type of year the tree has weathered. These rings are then analyzed by scientists to study weather patterns and changes, a special type of knowledge only a tree can hold. Old libraries provide a similar kind of knowledge. Like trees in a forest, old libraries serve as a living memory, continuously evolving based on the changing patterns and needs of a community. More than this, these bibliothecal ecosystems give access to a plethora of books, each holding its own branch of knowledge. 

The Shinrin-yoku philosophy would ask followers to observe and bathe in the mystery and wisdom of a library as they would a forest, urging us to have intellectual forest-baths that appreciate knowledge as a form of mental liberation, reminding us of our own pasts or the histories of others. Like a good librarian, practicing Shinrin-yoku may help you find things you didn’t even know you were looking for – a good book, a new author, even a feeling of belonging. At the very least, however, it allows you to lose yourself wandering and wondering in the magical beauty of an old library.