I’m shedding my thesis library quite deliberately. I won’t be reading any of them again. That part of my life is over. I sat and pulled off all the very many markers I’d added to these books, while reading almost nothing of what the makers had indicated was important to me, years ago. While doing so, it occurred to me that reading has been my life art. I read for solace. I read for information. I read for concepts and thought maps to help me understand my life. Why is reading not thought of as an art? Look what I did to one of the many, many books that fed me!
I dove into books and swam through the ideas and language, then rewove my mind experience with memories of my experiences and into future understandings and behaviour. I created, not just a Ph.D. Thesis, but experiences in the classroom for me and for the students. I learned. I grew. My perceptions became more intricate and detailed. I read more, and grew more. This has been the great joy in my life.
Learning Living 