“If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.”
― Thomas Merton
First of all, I’m a delight.
Second, everything I’m about to tell you is true.
I guess this is where I should tell you what book I’m reading this week, ‘eh?
Still Here by Ram Dass
That’s the book this week. Guess that’s all for those post…
But seriously…let me get comfy so I can get a good ramble on.
(also, yes these are short sentences, and no nothing artificial helped me write this post – it’s all natural)
Lemme start off with a question: why is reading used as a litmus test for things like being smart, educated, or wise? And maybe I should clarify a bit – reading books, not just reading in general.
A few weeks ago I was in a deep discussion about this very topic, especially how it relates to people who have autism, ADHD, or OCD (as well as others, but these were the main part of the focus). What made me dive in and look around was a passing statement on some website about how autistic persons are not able to learn due to the inability to read. It took me a moment to figure out why anyone in 2025 would put something like that out in public, but these days nothing surprises me.
See, the thing is, there are quite a lot of folks who have difficulty reading – not just ones with specific diagnosis codes. What we all need to remember is that reading is not an innate skill. You don’t just come Earthside with the ability to read the back of every cereal box. Recognizing patterns, yes – dissecting Shakespeare’s sonnet, no.
What is that quote about fish riding bicycles and test scores. I could Google it up, but right now there’s a ramble-flow, which is wonderful to experience in the early hours of the morning. Anyhootie…let me wander around a bit in this topic.
Reading was a huge part of my life, and when I was in my early teens my dream was to live into eternity in order to read all the world’s books. But I didn’t want to be a vampire – just immortal…when you’re 13 that sounds cool. At 54 you realize that even if you started now, and could live forever, it would be impossible to read all the books. But I digress…
After a wild month with some illnesses a few years ago, my feelings about reading shifted. I still love sitting with a book, my big cup of water, and a few cats around – but not as much. I tried audiobooks and reading on some kind of electronic device, but still…meh…reading was kind of – well – boring.
This didn’t mean when I opened a book my noggin said, “Hey, let’s do all these things,” nor did it mean the writing was bad. In fact, some of the best writing I’ve seen in some time is out floating in the world right now. It’s just…honestly this is going to sound kinda odd…but I was getting bored.
Let me pause here to tell you that when those list of “have you read this book” come out, I can check off a significant percentage of the titles. Not saying this to be all “look at me,” it’s just that I’ve loved reading since forever. Now? Not so much.
Also, the type of books I am enjoying now are nothing like what I’ve read before. It’s like my mind wants to know about real people that have done real things in a real world. This is interesting to me as a professional storyteller, because we live in the world of make believe – like come on…talking chickens…absolutely make believe (or is it – a good storyteller never reveals their secrets).
When I mentioned to someone in passing that interest in reading seems to be in a waning period, this funny look came over their face. “What do you mean? You are always reading a book, or referencing some book. Are you okay?” For a hot minute I had to think about it – was I, in fact, okay. Feeling around my head and face, there was no discernible fever or malaise. My thoughts were clear and my sight (with glasses) was good.
“Well, you see, it’s just that sometimes they make me get a little bored.”
As someone who spent like, I don’t know Over 40 years reading a lot of books, now that I’m 54 there’s this desire to be still, create, watch birds…and share my stories. And not the kind of sharing where I tell everyone about myself all of the time, but more like in the way one listens when speaking. It’s one of the tools in a storytellers bag of tricks. In fact, I dare say that to be a top-notch spinner of yarns, you must first master the art of hearing beyond the vibrations of sound.
I’ve enjoyed the tales of yonder, the mysteries of the hidden bijou, and felt my spine tingle with every page turned. Now…well, now I am on a little break. Still reading, but in a new and different way, with tomes that help me listen. And while the Greek chorus of social media might say otherwise (not that I care, but it’s a good little segue as I finish up this post), reading doesn’t make you a better person. It just means you are a person who gathers experiences in other ways. Just be you. Honestly, that’s what’s most important anyway.
With that, I’m signing off for the day. My brain decided to wake up me up at 2:20 am, which means it’s time for me to wander into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
Much love,
~ KEU
* 34 days
Kim Upton 