“Fundamentally it is only our own basic thoughts that possess truth and life, for only these do we really understand through and through. The thoughts of another that we have read are crumbs from another’s table, the cast-off clothes of an unfamiliar guest.”
Schopenhauer, ‘On Thinking For Yourself’
It’s true. Reading started everything creative in my life, all of it. Reading has been part of my life for the whole of my life since I’ve learned to do it. I’ve read so many things and want still to read so many things more. But why? Even my own book and all of my older writings and stories–when did I ever stop and ponder and reflect on any of it? I have no time, and my spirit and my mind are mumbling one phase always with a religious, mouth-foaming fervor: PRODUCE! And when I am done producing, both mumble another: READ! So like a sleepwalker, I shuffle through every year, through every draft, through every book, having trusted only after the fact in the light of morning after that what I’d done was smart enough, was honest enough, or was good enough, to someone out there.
And so like a sleepwalker, I awaken and yell ‘Come here!’ to my life, my time, my energy, my focus, and my thoughts, as if they were my children curled up in a corner of the room, cold and shivering. ‘I’m awake! Let me see you, let me see you! There you are, come here. Oh, for the first time in a long time, my mind come back to me!’
(But is this sincere? I smell the new year making me optimistically nostalgic with its aroma. I kneel and pray to the God of myself, my Spirit, that it is. Only time, and my actions, will tell.)
Holding these things born to me by my parents, I realize I am born myself and can birth to others: I am a baby stegosaurus: I lick the nubile slime from my jaws and shake off the last shards of my egg from the ridge of my hardened skull. I am a bird and a reptile: I am human once again born again. And I will live!…
(as I feel my voice rumble within my chest, I clear my throat and part my lips. I think now on my thinking, and say what I need to say. I’ve reached the point of greatest risk and greatest gain–my honest voice. I take a breath.)
I say to myself, I will live on!