THE JOY OF READING
(Author sculpted a man deeply engrossed on reading)
I maintain a regular blog, as a matter of fact, it is a daily regimen to perk up my day. It has been almost a habit to share something for netizens, mostly my FB friends, to munch over. When the “like” has been clicked, it was as if I have received already a commendation. If my blog would merit a comment, the feeling is like having won the STL, okay jueteng or sakla, whatever. That is how shallow I could be. I have a soft spot for those who patronise my thoughts.
But there are days when my pen is silent. This is when I bury myself inside my study to read. I enjoy reading more than writing to be honest. There are a lot of books, scholarly written and their style virtually could make a struggling writer like me feel inferior already. But feelings aside, the information one gets, the ideas one derives, the experience one indulges from reading is indeed very precious. One seldom gets anything of that sort through bantering only.
One of the blessings of retiring early is having a period to read a lot and appreciating every written word at that. Something which I missed while I was employed. And if I would chance upon a book, a novel for instance, with available film version, it would be a real pleasure.
It’s a pity that I realized the joy of reading only after I left school. While the academe compelled me to read, it was more of a threat rather than a treat. That is why, I set aside reading in favor of street loafing. For me then, there were a lot to learn in the streets rather than the classrooms. After all, there is wisdom in appreciating reality in street corners than in immersing oneself in concepts offered by the prying eyes of teachers and in a structured environment of the school.
It is a truism that if one can do it, then it is better; if not, then one can just teach. I would rather learn lessons from tough guys than my paid mentors.
Anyway, realizing later that the printed word is more superior to any force made me consider reading. After all, even the Bible (John 1:1) says, “In the beginning there was the word.”
And so, there I was, with eyeglasses, table lamp, the whole shebang fixed on a stack of book, splayed on a cushy chair, having a grand time of my life.
I am choosy however in reading, hence, my collection is a hodge podge of subjects ranging from the esoteric to mundane. But I am biased more on the works of Mitch Albom, Paulo Coehlo, Thomas Friedman, Alvin Toffler, and a number of serious writers like Lee Iacocca, Robert Greene, Reza Aslan, Malcolm Gladwell, Nick Joaquin, Ambet Antonio and Conrad de Quiros. How I wish to add the classical writers, the Homer, the Shakespeare, the Miguel de Cervantez, the Dante Alligheri, etc, but that is already bragging. The contemporary ones are the writers whose style I wish to mimic. But it is their ideas that make their writing exceptional. For me, their thoughts seem to convince me that there is eternity.
That is right, it is in reading that one realizes that knowledge transforms life from a boring struggle to a wonderful experience.