To read is to learn is to understand is to escape. You pick up a book (or better yet, read a blog) for a myriad of reasons; to kill time, to take you back to a time, to be distracted, to heal a broken heart, to become a better person, to get lost in someone else’s thoughts – for but a moment – to lose sight of your own, to get an answer, a laugh, to go along for a journey. And even if you don’t get what you want, then all is not lost, as you can just move on to the next piece of reading. That is until one day, something does more than you ever expected it to do. It moves you. It shakes you. The knowledge presented to you adds something to your life. It alters the way you view things, the way you too share things and by that alone, you reach that which we all strive for, growth.
Books have the ability to help us grow. We learn new ways of speaking, new ways of interpreting, new ways of seeing anothers perspective. I’m part of a book club, where once a month a group of fellow twentysomethings and I gather to talk about our latest read, Oprah styles et al., over a delicious meal and equally delicious banter. We try to switch up the writing styles and subjects of the books in which we choose, to open our eyes to all their is to see, learn, grasp, feel. The latter being the best part of reading. To read words that can cause a tear to stream down your bronzed face. To read words that make you laugh out loud, or cover your mouth in shock. To read words that make you smile, and glow or words that make you awkward and blush, as you look around to see if anyone suspects that little bit of naughtiness you just read.
Now it would be quite cliche of a story/blog post if I end off with a book list, so instead, allow me to throw you for a loop here with a dating/relationship tip: treat your partners words like an intriguing novel. Where you look into meaning of the words they choose. Where you pay attention to subtleties and details. Where you take in the stories in which they share, allowing yourself to feel, the same way you do when reading a Franzen. If only those who we love and care about could be treated with such intrinsic attention. If only we felt comfortable being so vulnerable.
– Jenny Jen