|Anna at Guedelon|
photo by Amy Brandon
As I have neared and now passed age 50 over the last couple years, I find myself changing slowly, like a jagged mountain eroding into a smooth stone, more likely now to be prone to naps than to tempests. As my emotions settle, my mind seems to wake and clear, and my reading interests move in different directions. Often, I find myself reading ten or eleven books at a time now. This became possible only when I learned to let go of goal-oriented reading. Usually, eventually, I will finish what I start, but not always. Even if I don’t finish, I still find I take something positive away from most books. I look at reading now more like mining for gold dust than like searching for the Hope Diamond. Not every book is a diamond, but most contain at least a little pretty dust.
Right now, at this point in my life, I feel like I’m reaching the end of the person I was and am on the cusp of a new and different person. I hope this new person will be able to write more. I’ve missed writing about what I’ve read. For a time I came to feel like I either didn’t have anything new to say or wasn’t able to express what I was thinking. Maybe we all have to get quiet and shut down for a while to clear our minds for new thoughts and new ways of being. Wisdom seems to come at a glacial pace, if it comes at all, no matter how many books I devour, but I will keep on devouring them, looking for those traces of gold dust.