Quite recently I found myself on a new continent, experiencing a whole different culture, people, custom…language (surprisingly… and yes I mean English) and quite frankly a whole new world. Although this post isn’t specifically about America, it is about something that I learned while I was there about myself.
Reading; one of my first loves as a boy, a worthy exercise that revealed to me hundreds of exciting adventures, an intricate number of amazing characters, worlds and lives that I could immerse myself within, taking me out of the mundane of life and transporting me to the intrigue of books. I remember days spent in the playground under the shade of the stairs, reading one of the many books I’d been able to get from the library. I remember the smell of the library and its books, the feel and texture of the pages I thumbed through and the joy that reading gave to me from that young age until now. It was through those many pages I’d spent my time in, that I realized I wanted to do the same; I wanted to tell a story I would enjoy as much as I enjoyed the books I read. Hence the real reason behind this post. Reading led towards writing and now I see a full circle happening where my writing is leading me to read.
It became evident as I struggled to write my own stories that the reason I was struggling was due to the fact that I had not fed my creativity, articulation and narrative basics. I had completely neglected reading for games, music and necessity; but where exactly was I to find the tools to aid me in my writing? Well in the very object that brought my desire to write – reading. Therefore I made it my point to read as much as I could, especially on the long flight from Africa to America and especially during the 10 hour layover in Germany.
With all intentions shoved into my backpack in the form of a thick book and a cellphone loaded with eBooks, I set off. What I had not expected from all this reading however, was for the reading to help not only with my writing, but to ease my mind back to earth when the body was tired and the mind was racing. I’d sit down with either my phone or, soon afterwards, a book I’d bought at a Thrift Store for a $1.50, and just thrilled in the joy of reading again.
I learned much from reading about writing but more importantly, about myself. I discovered that reading just made me feel human again and it is a feeling I look to continue to enjoy for the rest of my life.
In response to: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/back-to-life/