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Abstract

oys my age were still reading comic books I was dropping acid while either people-watching at the mall or staring at the moon out in the desert while listening to a symphony of desert toads singing at three in the morning.But these diversions could not keep me from my word addiction for long. In my twenties I kept a fat five-subject spiral notebook where I wrote down all the books that I read. My goal was to read a minimum of 300 books a year. For four years in a row I surpassed that goal then on the fifth year I only made it into the 290’s. I kept reading but I stopped keeping track. I threw the spiral notebook away when I realized how stupid that was.Back in my twenties my reading was about 70% literary fiction, 20% non-religious metaphysical spirituality, and 10% feminist literature. With each subsequent decade those numbers changed. The feminist literature faded away while the metaphysical spirituality reading increased with each passing year. The literary fiction reading decreased to make more room for spirituality.By the time I was in my mid-fifties literary fiction only comprised about 10% of my reading. Metaphysical reading comprised about 40% and the other 50% was taken up by alternative health and healing literature.But it was in my forties that my overall reading significantly decreased. I just didn’t have as much time to read because I spent so much time writing. Whether reading or writing my word addiction was still utterly out of control.When I hit my sixties I radically reduced my reading further but I was unable to reduce my writing. The word addiction continued unabated.I eventually learned that words (whether reading o

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r writing) can be a great learning methodology. I learned that we can stuff a seemingly infinite amount of words into our noggins and then spew them out in all sorts of creative and inspiring ways. But I also learned that words can be very limiting.Words can point to ‘truth’ but they can never BE truth. Words can point to life and experience but they can never BE life and experience. Words can point to feeling but they can never BE actual feeling. Words can point to knowledge but they can never BE knowing. Knowing comes from experience and feeling.Most importantly, I learned that there is a language far, far greater and more powerful than the language of words. My goal now is to adopt this other language and wean myself from my addiction to words. If you are reading this then it should be obvious to you that I have yet to reach that goal.It should be as easy as simply letting go of my word addiction. Right? Well, let me tell you, giving up smoking is infinitely easier than giving up words. Giving up smoking or any drug addiction is a piece of cake compared to giving up words. It may be one of the most difficult challenges any human can face.And I don’t think I’m capable of doing it cold turkey. But I’m working on it. I just hope I can do it before I kick the bucket.A true master does not teach. A true master does not leave any words in their wake. A true master can change the world without uttering a single word.That is the language I am trying to relearn.Copyright by <a href="https://readmedium.com/white-feather-archive-index-c95167f7dbaf">White Feather</a>. All Rights Reserved.</article></body>

Letting Go of Words

Relearning a different language

I never read comic books as a child. Back then I thought that comic books were designed to help young boys who had great difficulty learning how to read. They were mostly all pictures with only a teeny tiny amount of words. It was like, Here are some pictures so you can understand what those few words mean.

While other boys my age were reading comic books I was reading adult books with lots and lots of words. I went to the library once a week and checked out the maximum amount of books allowed; ten. I read history books, lots of books about animals, books about explorers, biographies, philosophy books, books about exotic places around the world, and even fiction. While other boys were reading about super heroes and having muscles and being macho and fighting evil, I was reading to learn as much as I could (because school just did not provide enough of that for me).

By the time I was twelve years old my addiction to words was fully formed. It was worse than a heroin addiction. I was utterly helpless to do anything about it.

By that time I had also become a true snob; a word snob. My parents, my siblings, and all my friends vehemently refused to play Scrabble with me.

I finally got sidetracked a bit from my word addiction in my later teen years when I got interested in girls, booze, drugs, and Taoism. While other boys my age were still reading comic books I was dropping acid while either people-watching at the mall or staring at the moon out in the desert while listening to a symphony of desert toads singing at three in the morning.

But these diversions could not keep me from my word addiction for long. In my twenties I kept a fat five-subject spiral notebook where I wrote down all the books that I read. My goal was to read a minimum of 300 books a year. For four years in a row I surpassed that goal then on the fifth year I only made it into the 290’s. I kept reading but I stopped keeping track. I threw the spiral notebook away when I realized how stupid that was.

Back in my twenties my reading was about 70% literary fiction, 20% non-religious metaphysical spirituality, and 10% feminist literature. With each subsequent decade those numbers changed. The feminist literature faded away while the metaphysical spirituality reading increased with each passing year. The literary fiction reading decreased to make more room for spirituality.

By the time I was in my mid-fifties literary fiction only comprised about 10% of my reading. Metaphysical reading comprised about 40% and the other 50% was taken up by alternative health and healing literature.

But it was in my forties that my overall reading significantly decreased. I just didn’t have as much time to read because I spent so much time writing. Whether reading or writing my word addiction was still utterly out of control.

When I hit my sixties I radically reduced my reading further but I was unable to reduce my writing. The word addiction continued unabated.

I eventually learned that words (whether reading or writing) can be a great learning methodology. I learned that we can stuff a seemingly infinite amount of words into our noggins and then spew them out in all sorts of creative and inspiring ways. But I also learned that words can be very limiting.

Words can point to ‘truth’ but they can never BE truth. Words can point to life and experience but they can never BE life and experience. Words can point to feeling but they can never BE actual feeling. Words can point to knowledge but they can never BE knowing. Knowing comes from experience and feeling.

Most importantly, I learned that there is a language far, far greater and more powerful than the language of words. My goal now is to adopt this other language and wean myself from my addiction to words. If you are reading this then it should be obvious to you that I have yet to reach that goal.

It should be as easy as simply letting go of my word addiction. Right? Well, let me tell you, giving up smoking is infinitely easier than giving up words. Giving up smoking or any drug addiction is a piece of cake compared to giving up words. It may be one of the most difficult challenges any human can face.

And I don’t think I’m capable of doing it cold turkey. But I’m working on it. I just hope I can do it before I kick the bucket.

A true master does not teach. A true master does not leave any words in their wake. A true master can change the world without uttering a single word.

That is the language I am trying to relearn.