Wednesday, 16 May 2018

(Story) A Book is Like a Sacred Isle . . .



Compassion

  I have just finished reading a book, a biography, about a famous author, whose checkered life at first filled me with dismay, and at times I wondered what on earth I was doing reading a book about such a perverse character; and yet I continued to read, fascinated. The more I read, the more his life was revealed to be truly weird; and to me, even repulsive in places; but his writing was utterly beautiful; astonishingly fine English. And as I chose not to put it aside but to keep on reading I discovered compassion being worked in me; and I found a genuine love for this troubled and tormented man growing within me. Towards the end of the book, at the description of his death, I cried. Then I was sad that the book had come to an end, and that there was no more to read of this totally complex, ‘nearly-great, but fatally flawed man.’ 

  I soon realized that the experience of reading this book had been important and transformative in my life. It had taught me not to be afraid of coming into contact with things I considered ‘strange.’ I saw the good in a person would always balance out, even cancel out, for me at least, all the bad in them. Further, the complex contrast between the two made their good aspects truly shine; just as stars shine only in a dark sky.

  Through reading this book I came to recognize, even further, the fact that there were preconceived opinions in me, and that I didn’t like them, and I didn’t want them in my life. The book’s overall effect on me was that I was taught, more passionately than ever, not to prejudge, anything.

  I realize now how very deeply I wanted to be rid of judgmental opinions, and to have a pure heart that found no cause for the rejection of any fault in any person. What treasure I would have missed out on had I not persevered, and read this wonderful book! …Never let me be afraid of a challenge to change!

  It is not those things we want to know that help us the most, and reveal what we’re after, but those we don’t want to know, and turn from: the real treasure was where we hadn’t looked for it before.
                                               


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