The Milk-bloated Raisin

The shaky intellectual hubris I stand upon ought to topple daily. I ought to actively seek toppling it daily. Actively seek something that will help me topple it.
The book, the book in the brown paper bag, is becoming an interesting read. My big problem with self-help-self-realization-pseudo-spiritual books and their guru manufacturers is that they often say nothing new. No, they never ever say anything new. The authors of these books, if they are worth their sea salt, will readily agree. But it doesn't matter. Usually I read these things and just uh-huh my way through the skimming. After years of reading sacred texts, studying religions and being basically spiritually thoughtful, I feel like I can write far more dynamic prose with equal insight into the state of being. Of course, that's not the point. The point is to read true things and to be reminded by their truth.

4 comments:

Jamie Welsh Watson said...

Yes. And sometimes you can read a book and understand something better than a different book saying the same thing. Sometimes you are at a point in your life where you understand something you didn't before. Sometimes playing sports make me figure out answers as if I'd read them in a book.

Anonymous said...

That may be it right there. After a substantial time spent filling up on words, there comes a time to initiate a practice that has no words. An exercise that empties out all the understandings and contexts. At some point the words help and we feed upon them like oxygen. It over flows. It toxifies.

Aaron Wexler said...

what is the book?

Toddy said...

New earth by eckhart tolle or something like that. It's good. A good, calming read.