Title of this post taken from a Manic Street Preachers album – music I haven’t listened to in years, but I still find myself coming back to the title.
With the advent of Ravelry I, like so many others, have begun to question the use having a separate knit-blog. Lately I’ve used this space only for knitting, though it started out being much more personal and blog-ier. I’m going to try and make this a more personal space – I will definately not be skimping the knitting content – but I’m human and I want to use this medium to share my humanity.
Now, I’m not very funny, and I don’t tell stories well, but I like to think, and I like to share my ideas and hear the ideas you have. Muse on.
The past month in our house has been ridiculously low-energy. For my part, there were many days that just picking up the knitting needles and pushing them around required more energy than I had available. So I read.
Now, I have always loved to read. I can’t sit still without a book nearby. Since having children, I read less; now that I knit it’s less again. But I cannot escape the addiction, I read because I like to think.
I read books over and over and over. They are friends that grow up with me. They are always changing because I am always changing. New aspects of the story crop up and I get new things to think about and understand things in different ways. And books don’t require me to carry on a conversation.
You see, I dislike talking. I like to think before I speak, so it’s hard to participate in conversations. Or I think too fast and end up stumbling over words, repeating myself, and generally sounding stupid. I dislike verbal encounters to the extreme – if there is anyway I can avoid making a phone call, I will. That’s just the way I am.
Given this aspect of my personality, it’s easy to understand my attraction to books.
When I read I try to just enjoy the story. Later when the story is over and I’m alone I’ll try to put it all together mentally, for myself. I like to see the way themes repeat themselves, how a theme is mirrored in other books I’ve read, how way people act, what makes me laugh, what makes me cry, what other things it brings to mind. I like to discover how the stories are personal to me.
Usually I discover things my heart already knew, but had never needed words. This was illustrated for me yesterday.
Yesterday as I was going outside with the boys, my dad flippantly said something to me about going out to save the world; then becoming serious he mused whether that was possible or even desirable.
Answering him without delay I discovered something I already knew.
Any good we do must be done out of love, or it will not be understood. If change isn’t personal, how is it different from subjugation? The best things we can do is do good for the ones standing by our side, they are the ones that understand our heart.
Do you read?
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