on the topic of topics

sofia

it is either surprising or not for you to learn that i used to devour books. but when my attention switched from natural languages to programming languages, my detox was rapid and complete.

i didn’t read for strictly academic purposes, but the result was primarily academic. for my growth, this was either deeply meaningful or not. perhaps it should have been obvious, but the fact that it may not have been is something i’ve discovered for myself very recently. i present it to you as a hypothesis:

intellectualism without the ability to give and receive affection leads to neurosis, and possibly even psychosis. the mind absorbed in and involved in itself as a self-centered end, to the exclusion of human relationships, can only lead to violence and pain.

to be trapped, by upbringing, in a mind whose intellectual ability exceeds its emotional ability is, at times, a pain¹. when words wait, unsaid, in your mouth, swallowed and scratching on the way down. when the search for knowledge drives out the search for love…

as an adult, i tried to revive the hunger of my childhood by filling my bookshelf with classics in philosophy². it stuck for awhile, but φιλοσοφία (greek) → philosophia (latin) → philosophie (french) → philosophy (english)³ is, of course, inherently academic. and so i’ve found the need to be much more intentional about my reading.

bekkah

this story, as with many in my life, starts with a girl. four months ago, i was briefly entangled with someone much more literary than i, and we visited a bookstore. when we emerged, i was the new owner of a pair of very different titles.

the first, a book of my (mostly random) choosing, ended up relatively unspectacular (though it did have an entire subplot dedicated to horny, sentient brains, which is cool i guess). the second, a book of her recommendation, left much more of an impression. when i finished it, i finished three more by the same author, bought a kindle and downloaded four more titles of the same genre.

butterfly effect

innocently enough, a single flap caused a typhoon. and even here at the beginning of the story with a modest 10 titles in a few weeks, i’m already finding new ways to express myself and people to express myself to. one girl, two books, several hours spent reading or reflecting in a cafe or by a river, chancing upon others doing the same, ad infinitum.

reading, of course, is much more accessible than computer programming or biology, and (perhaps counterintuitively) much more human, i think. listening to the author and trying to see past your own biases to glimpse what they’re trying to say. showing yourself to the world, and hoping someone else understands.

apology

friends of mine (and many more strangers of mine) recommend self-help books of a particular sort as a way to broaden ones perspective. i don’t really buy it, though: more often than not, they’re reductionist to a fault. instead, i’ve found that insights can be found much more honestly and readily through the arbitrary paragraphs and pages that i’ve chanced upon so far.

at times, the text i chance upon brings me on a round trip to the philosophy i started with. perhaps to remind me of my own ignorance. perhaps because i’m the wisest of all. but for now, the hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways – i to die, and you to live. which is better god only knows.