I Am Often Little More Than A Cheering Section
I’ve been thinking today about my selection of books, or rather, the books that I choose to acquire in order to read. My ideologies have journeyed some over the years resulting in a small variance in the books on my shelf. It occured to me that at no time in those journeys had I completely intentionally purchased a book that I was certain would go against the ideas or at least the direction that I was already leaning towards belief in. Its been almost as if I buy books that say the things I want them to say, or perhaps tell me how to say the things I wish I had the ability to articulate. Never have I purchased a book that blatantly would contradict my major ideological opinions.
In this moment of clarity I feel almost as nothing but a cheering section for those who simply construct logical thought processes better than I, or one who can think all the right thoughts but not actively assert them or “do” them.
At the same time, however, in viewing life’s purpose as journey and not as destination leads me back to the thought that whatever better understanding of myself, even be it though the words of others, is better both for my self and those who may be interested in hearing my story. (which is what this blog is about) So where I conclude on the matter is that in cheering on those writers who I already agree with I can’t help but remember the books I’ve read that have changed my mind and my perspective, though I had not bought the book with that intention. To find more of that is my desire, to challenge my brain for the better but my plight is knowing not where to begin to find such a book that will result with certainty in the effect I am describing.
And one more note,
To those of you who follow this blog regularly, I half-heartedly apologize that I haven’t written more in the last two weeks, especially on more in depth topics. I say half-heartedly because the reason for this has been a slight notion that my laziness in reading often comes in the form of writing instead. It isn’t that I do not wish to write, only that I can hardly bare the thought of blogging philosophic defacation or un-thought-out wanderings and would like to think of myself as more of a listener than a talker.