i used to read one book at a time. i used to read that book in a very regimented manner, like fifteen or twenty five pages a day, depending on how simple or dense the writing. i used to set a schedule and track my progress making it so i knew when i should be done with the book and if i completed the book as expected. sometimes i finished on time, and other times, i never finished at all.
the never finishing at all business bothered me. like a lot. i found that a slow moving or not right for this moment book could stall my reading, all my reading. i knew changing the book might clear the block but consequences loomed. this is the ocd side of me. while this quirk sometimes debilitated me, other times, lots of times, my quirk helped me over many of life's saw horses. i needed this to be one of those times.
so, i made a small tweak to my reading routine (somewhere along this journey, i stumbled upon the bionic power of small properly-placed tweaks). instead of focusing on one book, i now read four - six books at a time. and instead of reading in a genre rotation like i once did (e.g. fiction, history, literature, non-fiction, psychology, fluff, repeat), i read all genres at once. and instead of reading for a set amount of pages per day, i read for a set amount of time, thirty minutes. when the reading window comes up, i set the timer, pick one of the books from the currently being read stack, open to the bookmarked page and collapse into another person's world and experience.
now when i stall, i stall for bigger, more meaty causes, the sort of things one should set their book down for. not just because the lead character in the book blows or the author and i aren't jiving at the minute. this i can live with.
Stranger in a Strange Land
Robert A. Heinlein
Wherever You Go There You Are
Stumbling on Happiness
Endurance: Shackletons' Incredible Voyage
|READ BEFORE||BOOKS FROM : 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013|
i've always had mixed feelings about aging. one side of me bristles with the anticipation of untold possibilities. the other side of me trembles with the anxiety of untold possibilities. whether it's finally securing that job you've been chasing or being told something has gone wrong with some needed part of your body, the days in front of us are rife with mystery.
the stories and ruminations found in this book have allowed me to come to better terms with what's ahead. largely due to its emphasis of the importance of the now, and how the now is, obviously, so connected to the future - your future. of course you have to set worrying about possible illnesses and catastrophes to the side (it's not healthy to carry around such hefty luggage you may not need). but there are surely things, many things, that can be done to mitigate some of the bad stuff potentially ahead.
partly through this book and partly through my own discovery, i have found myself becoming more excited about aging (where previously i greatly feared what it had in store). now i'm ravenous for the boons of wisdom that comes from better understanding your mind, your body, your family, your society, your purpose. the only requirement for collecting this reward is a fair bit of reflection and introspection - which so sadly seems to be hypersonically becoming a lost art in our frenetic culture.
in short, we are all going to age. there are things that can be done to improve our chances of making the best of things. it reminds me of the words of Gale Snoats, john goodman's character in raising arizona, when he said, "This'll go hard or easy, H I." it turned out to be true for H.I. McDunnough and it will turn out to be true for us as well.
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