The Privilege of Books

It’s amazing and surprises the sweet Be-Jesus out of me how deep and emotional I am. Always catches me by surprise, I tell you. I am right now reading the foreword to Jordan Peterson’s “12 rules for life”, written by Dr Norman Doidge (which should be a book in itself), and I’m so teary-eyed, almost to the point of sobbing.

I am in this moment, realizing how deeply I have missed reading — book on my laps, holding a cup of coffee, trying to catch the light, ensuring I’m not sitting in a position for which my back complains. I am reminded of the fact that there’s little I know, so much I do not, the commonplace (but also rare) privilege of gaining access into someone’s mind — their life, history, thought patterns, joy, brokenness and perspective. How they’ve had to go through harsh realities for my enlightenment. I am reminded of how I will never be the same for each line I read, up to the end. I am reminded that we all see darkly as through a glass but that each person’s prism or paradigm is different from mine and what great richness this knowledge will add to my life.

To read a book is a privilege but to have access to another’s mind is so so divine. I am and hope to be, completely and always in awe of that fact.