Why the Rarest Voice Is Sometimes the Least Heard
The Books That Found Me
I stood among three lives:
• A Childcraft volume—Art & Music—the very one I hadn’t discovered as a child, playing in my mother’s old attic, dry and warm. A space forbidden, yet where I hid during a game of hide and seek from my brothers. It was there I found its mates—an old, worn box holding an entire set of educational books. But it was missing the soul of them all. Years later, on a rainy afternoon when a client canceled, I wandered into a tiny, narrow nook of an ancient bookshop. It had a warm barista and a library of frosted windows and wooden tables beyond. And there she was—Art & Music—unhidden, displayed in the spotlight. Waiting for me, again, in another game of hide and seek.
• A USDA Yearbook of Agriculture, 1897, salvaged from a cart labeled “Discard — Free Books.” I found it after a trip to Thomas Wolfe’s house, during a quiet afternoon spent browsing the library. It catalogs insects, diseases, and cures. A nation, trying to understand its soil. The line between beauty and utility drawn with ink and intention. An important addition to my AgTech business, and to any gardener’s production—and our belly’s satisfaction.
• Then, The Art of Andrew Wyeth, first edition—softcover, no dust jacket. A quiet masterpiece dismissed by collectors, left on a desk at an antique store. But it’s the one that stopped me. Made me breathe differently. Made me feel.
These aren’t just books. They’re artifacts of love.
One instructs.
One catalogs.
One evokes.
But the last—oh, the last is soul.
Is it so with people too?
That the most intuitive among us—those who say little but change everything—are given the smallest price tag?
Maybe that’s why we must treasure them now.
Send the letter. Hug the elder. Dance with your child. Say the thing.
Before someone calls it discard.
Lira Wren
Some treasures don’t come with a barcode—
Like a a well-worn book, a candle lit beside a bedtime story, and your mug that cradles your memories —or your little one—in warmth and love.
A pillow for daydreams and a blanket for bonding.
Don’t forget the water bottle to quench your soul.
At SwAY HEYven, every item is more than a product—
it’s a piece of soul, a poem you can hold.
Curated with care. Created for connection.
Explore the collection: swayheyven.shop