Tuesday, October 20, 2009

In every compelling story, there are themes that repeat–shared not only from page to page, but from book to book as well. Think of the last great novel you finished. There was likely conflict, where characters struggled with themselves, each other, against forces beyond their control, and perhaps they triumphed in adversity. Or maybe they failed, only to find redemption. Maybe the narrative touched on some lofty idea, like sacrifice, or something as inevitable as growing up: how a generation loses its innocence, then makes peace with a changed reality.

One theme you probably didn’t find, however, was comfort, at least in any appreciable quantity. After all, how wretched would it be to slog through a few hundred pages about someone who’s largely content? It would make a terrible tale. A tale like my own, truthfully, because “comfort” aptly describes where I find myself. There’s a roof over my head, too much food, relatively good health, employment–so on and so forth, and certainly I am grateful.

But at the same time, it’s not enough. It’s an existence on loop, bookended by ringing alarm clocks. Obviously I’m not wishing for conflict or an opportunity to sacrifice. I’m not intent on divesting myself of all my worldly goods or, let’s be honest here, even sharing them, and it’s not like volunteering more frequently is particularly appealing to me.

No, I suspect the answer lies in learning. Yes, learning. It simply strikes me as one possible way to break the loop. Engage myself. Get some dormant axons firing. And since formal schooling is entirely out of the question, it appears books are my main recourse. Books! Those ancient devices powered by paper-based technology. I was recently inspired to read, and that’s basically the plan right there. Read more. Fill my head with succulent pieces of knowledge, let them marinate, and possibly even act on them. It’s a terrifying thought.