And Finding Your Rhythm in Life
I have a friend, a mentor of sorts, in his nineties, who goes to bed quite early, but wakes up at 2 a.m. or thereabouts and reads for hours before breakfast.
He has found a rhythm to his life.
He has an insatiable appetite for knowledge. He reads not only traditional books, but has made the leap into the tech world of today with its myriad of media — from online books to countless blogs and essays on web sites like medium.com.
He forwards his discoveries of authors and their writings to me, for which I am grateful. I smile when he appends the words, “this is the best article I have read on this subject.”
I assume that his influence, in part, is behind my own library of sorts, although I have always loved books and wandering through a used book store — the dustier, the better.
When I downsized and moved into an apartment, I was forced to cull my library. There are 222 books today and about two feet of available space. There will be arrivals and departures in a time of life now centered on minimalism.
I have spent the past year being more of a prolific writer than a prolific reader, publishing a weekly essay on medium.com. But, without reading, there would be no writing.
