A Journal from June 17, 2025
A Tiny Library, a Good Book Deal, and a Feeling I Couldn’t Explain
A Stop at the Little Library
On my way to a small lake, I walked past the little library in our city. It’s small, unassuming — one of those places most people ignore. But today, they had a sale: one euro per book. They were organized in small boxes outside of the store.
Two of those interested me a lot, so I picked them up:
- One on something called Reconnective Therapy, about healing through reconnecting with the energetic body
- Becoming Older Like a Gentleman – Between Engagement and Idleness
The Thin Man Behind the Glass
I stepped in and greeted the man behind the glass. He was thin, well-dressed, with black glasses and a kind of calmness that made me stop for a second. Not just calm — intelligent. The kind of intelligent that doesn’t have to speak much.
It was fascinating how he radiated knowledge, almost like he held ancient secrets.
There was something mystical about him. Not in a spiritual woo-woo way, but like he knew things the rest of us forgot. I don’t know — maybe it was the ancient-looking books behind the glass.
I asked him about Nietzsche and Machiavelli. He didn’t say much, just guided me silently to the back, to the Philosophy section. No Machiavelli, but lots of Freud. Some Nietzsche. A bit of Seneca.
The Books I Chose
I picked up two:
- Nietzsche – Menschliches, Allzumenschliches, a book for free spirits, printed in 1994 — the year I was born.
- Seneca – Von der Ruhe der Seele, printed in 1991.
They cost five euros each. I was asking him if he was ready to make a deal.
He said, “We are doing that here all the time — 10 for all 4?”
He was amazing and also offered me to take a look into their external warehouse.
Reading Nietzsche with the Sun on My Face
I sat down outside with a clear view of the water, in the sun, with this amazing view. Reading Nietzsche in German, trying to focus. It’s difficult. Complex language. Old vocabulary. But I’m interested.
I found him through the psychologist everyone in the lonely self-improvement corner of the internet knows — Jordan Peterson.
Peterson said something like:
Every young man should read Nietzsche.
Learn something hard.
Sharpen your thinking.
Learn to speak.
A well-articulated man isn’t just dangerous — he’s capable. And becoming capable, in Peterson’s words, is the antidote to bitterness and misery.
I don’t remember exact quotes. But I remember the feeling.
Do what’s hard. Make yourself sharper. Aim for the highest possible good.
That hit me.
So I gave it a shot. It’s hard. And after about an hour, I didn’t feel smart. Actually, I felt more like a failure. I didn’t understand half of what he was trying to say.
But I kept reading.
What I did catch was how Nietzsche wrote about being a Freigeist — a free spirit, someone who doesn’t just follow the crowd. He questioned whether God existed. He explained how science and philosophy are always clashing. And he asked:
How can you know truth if you’re stuck observing everything through a human head?
And cutting it off won’t magically show you an “afterlife” or a “dreamworld”.
For a beginner like me in his world, I understood why he was the “weird thinker in the mainstream” back in his time.
I probably misunderstood some of it. But still — something about it made me pause.
Then Came Seneca
Seneca was easier. Maybe not because the writing was simpler, but because my brain was already warmed up. Nothing stuck from it yet.
But I read for another hour. I stayed in the sun, flipping pages, taking sips of water, getting sunburned on my face, arms, and the insides of my legs.
I kinda look like someone attacked me with an electric iron, but it helped my heavy thoughts.
It was very freeing.
And then I went home.
I had a piece of steak and an egg. Drank more water. Sat with it all.
Something Shifted
It wasn’t about the books, really. It was about the moment.
I don’t know why, but this line popped into my head:
“Hurry up, Firat. Your people are waiting for you.”
Sounds crazy, but I swear I heard this in a dream, looking up to “future Firat” while I was falling asleep to one of Chris Williamson’s podcasts a while ago.
Like a version of me that’s already walked the path, already suffered through the fog, already earned clarity — and now he’s standing on the other side, sending me a message back through time.
That’s what it felt like.
A Thought to Leave You With
I don’t have the answers. But I do know this:
Even something small — like reading a hard book on a sunny day, especially when you feel lost — can shift something inside of you.
And for the first time in a long while, loneliness didn’t feel like punishment.
It didn’t feel like prison or hell.
Today, it felt like release.
Like order, gently arriving in the middle of my chaos.
I’m not there yet. But I think I’m closer.
And if you’re feeling like I was this morning, maybe try reading something that feels just a bit too hard.
Sit in the sun.
And listen for the version of you that’s already waiting up ahead.
They might be trying to tell you something, too.
I love you. You matter.
Firat Akbas
Firat Akbas 