I spent thirty bucks on 'The Headspace Guide to Meditation' last year. The cover was so calm it made my anxiety look amateur. I'd stare at the perfect spine on my nightstand and feel guilty for not magically becoming zen. Then I borrowed my dad's dog-eared copy of 'Wherever You Go, There You Are' from 1994. The underlined passages and coffee stains somehow made the advice feel earned, not prescribed.