Just as lovers monitor every dark corner to find a secret spot on the earth where to unfold their love, so I euphorically search for my new reading to find a hidden place where to unfold my wings. Although reading has been unjustly regarded as a high-brow experience, only oriented for cultivated and erudite people, the truth is everybody can dig deeper into the grounds of literature. If I thought of reading books as a pitiful exercise of resolving mathematic problems, I would not love to open a book and even less to go through its pages. As I understand, in order to make the reading process enjoyable, I need to be aware of three important factors; namely, reading means time for myself, it is a reflecting activity, and more important, it is a process which tells something actively and directly about me.
Reading provides me with a constant and renewable source of quality time. It is easier to picture this thought if I become aware of one of the most beautiful conditions for this activity: to be alone. Solitude is not depressing; it is a beauty salon where all the mirrors sculp my own self. Leaving this metaphor, as an unmistakable son of this modern time, I find myself struggling for not having enough time to spend alone. Not that I have a very busy and feverish life, but when spare time shows up its head, sometimes I get easily drowned by thousands of unmeaningful and unexpected distractions that were neither relevant nor planned. Reading means time not only well-invested but also embellished.
Going further, reading as a contemplating activity helps me to reflect about what I read, what I think, and what I perceive. To grab a book is one of the most efficient forms of knowledge, and I do not even have to leave my room. Besides, I am always turning over my head what I read and what I think about it because rethinking is the most powerful radar to discover new things around me that I am not always aware of. I can see how my perception over the world changes through reading. No doubt, contemplating, reflecting, and rethinking are vital tools to embark myself on the boat of a gripping reading.
Having shown those two cards on the table, more important is to be aware of the often overlooked fact that reading does not have to be detached from myself; on the contrary, reading has to do with me; reading can be about me; reading is similar to looking at the pieces of a puzzle, and when contemplated together, those pieces show my own face. Becoming aware of this insightful factor makes me recognize silhouettes of my traits, drawings of my thoughts, shapes of my emotions. Reading is not anymore, a scenario brought into existence by the hand of someone else, but a symmetric mirror which vivid image reflects my traits, thoughts, and feelings.
Ultimately, even though some people perceive reading as a fastidious task, reading symbolizes a blue and ethereal sky for me to unfold the wings of my imagination. Reading is not decoding complex and abstract soliloquies written for highly smart people. I am always able to meet the other “me” who lies down on a page, behind a character, or across a story. Quality time for myself, reflecting activity as a boost for my brain, and a story on my own terms are wonderful breakthroughs that my own self-awakening to this marvelous activity has left me since I grabbed my first book.
The Wind-up Bird Chronicles 