I was walking down Wilson Avenue the other day, only a couple blocks from my home, when I saw the silhouette of a wooden box on a post on the edge of a front lawn.

On closer inspection, I discovered the orange and black box was an informal sort of library and, dare I say, a social experiment.

Sporting a graphic depicting a row of hardcover book spines, as if lined up on a shelf, and the invitation to Take a Book, Leave a Book, the box represented a mini lending library, one with no requirements for membership cards or due dates (or fines).

Littlefreelibrary.org appeared in smaller print on a silver strip near the bottom of the box in case passersby wanted to learn about the movement and how they might install a similar box in front of their home — and, maybe, change their neighborhood.

When I visited their website, I was charmed and inspired by both their mission and testimonials from Littlefreelibrary stewards, as they seemed to call themselves. One attested to an important secondary benefit, after promoting literacy, getting to know your neighbors.

I found myself delighted at the idea but a little skeptical.

Their mission: To promote literacy and the love of reading by building free book exchanges worldwide and to build a sense of community as we share skills, creativity and wisdom across generations.

Sounds good, but does the system get used? Do people ever open the box? Do they take a book and leave a book as they’re instructed to do.

Several times over this past week, I walked my dog in the direction of this mini library. I observed other dog walkers, teens, young fathers and mothers -– swinging open the Take a Book, Leave a Book door and perusing the titles. I witnessed a couple pick-ups and drop-offs.

When no one else was in front of the box, I took a look for myself.

There were large print Doctor Seuss books, a book by Maeve Binchy, a popular Irish author who turns out novels for a fairly literate crowd, and a couple John Grisham or Robert Ludlum page turners. In a collection of maybe 30 books, I saw something for most tastes.

Chalk it up to the perfection of randomness… or maybe something else was at work. Maybe we can find most of what we need — even when it comes to entertaining reading — within our own community, from what someone else doesn’t now need.

I thought about friends who are dealing with aging parents moving into retirement complexes, or even facing their own challenges to downsize.

Over time, people collect so much stuff. Even after receiving advice from professional organizers or some list-icle type article from a lifestyle magazine about getting rid of things that haven’t been used for six months, people seem to be reluctant to give up their stuff.

People so often think of things in terms of owning or possessing them.

I think of young children learning the word MINE shortly after they learn to say momma and dadda. This brings up lots of serious conversations with caretakers.

It seems like a big sacrifice to a three-year-old to SHARE a cherished plaything after brandishing it about screaming MINE, MINE.  Even at an early age, people identify so much with objects as belonging to them.

There are so many traps in thinking of yourself in terms of what you possess; what objects are in your home and how much you paid for them.

To some extent, the only thing you can claim as YOURS are your experiences.

Take a book. Leave a book. I love it!

Isn’t it great to know that others are reading what you’ve read?   They might have similar experiences or maybe very different ones from the same material.

Expanding your understanding that BELONGING is more about sharing an experience and values than it is about claiming something as a possession is no small thing.