I think it's interesting how discovering something new, naturally increases the dopamine to the brain and thus gives us a sense of pleasure and puts a little more happiness and joy in living. For years I noticed how the quality of my life was directly connected with my time spent in contemplation. My hours upon my bed mediating upon scripture, getting insights and writing down original thoughts was what made me alive. It also helped me be social and enjoy people. Without learning something new in solitude, I would shrivel and just try to find escapes in pass-times and avoid people. The problem is though learning brings pleasure, it does not mean I possess the 'know how' or have the ability to do all I'm learning. As you see in this drawing, I am finding great delight in devouring all these books on “how to run”, “the nature and effects of fire”, “The key to fleeing the burning building”, etc..., and yet, though I enjoy every bite, still I remain standing in the burning building.
knowledge cannot seem to make it into my heart. It is like water and I am a sealed water tight container and though I jump in the river, I cannot quench my thirst.
Once upon a time I really wanted to understand what faith is and learn the key to the victorious life that the jacket covers promise if I only read their book. I read several of such books and highlighted a lot of words, but the only thing I feel I learned was that once you have read one, you have pretty much read them all. It must be taught in seminary and when famous pastors need to write a book to keep their book-contract, they regurgitate the same ol' same old. But that is beside the point. While I read these books I really wanted to grab a hold of what they were saying, but it was like taking pills for my ill heart, but each pill was beyond it's reach. The idea made for this creepy drawing
A teacher may spend several hours of study and yet will only be left with a vague summary and sketch of the vast amount of information obtained. He will then deliver a message, various parts of which are filled with abbreviated tidbits of the scanty little that was retained within his brain. The speaker may have 100s of pages worth of context and ground work vaguely in his mind giving the skeletal frame, meat and substance and something to stand on as he shares it, but to the listeners it's only a pile of disconnected bones (for we did not read the same books) yet it still may be intriguing, but a pencil sketch nonetheless.
If its a good message, the listener may very well feel pleasure as words flow into the ears and feel fleeting moments of agreement, guilt, motivation and interest, but in the end all those moments blur into the past. The meager summery of summaries that was preached is boiled down in mind of the hearer as a good feeling. And thus he will go and shake the pastor's hand and say "Great sermon, pastor". but later if a friend asks "what it was about?", he replies "Uh... I don't remember, but yeah... it was great." if the sermon really impacted him, he may be able to give a brief summary of it. but see that is the problem, at best we can only give a summary of what in fact was a summary of the information studied by the preacher and all the books the pastor read were in fact summaries of the mountain of books that author studied and on it goes.
Maybe it is more about what that information produces, its kinda like disappearing ink. While it is seen it may produce action or an emotion. so yeah, though it just produces fleeting moments of enjoyment, conviction and interest. Sometimes a message leads someone to make a decision about something that will change the coarse of their life. though in a week, they'll have totally forgotten what the pastor talked about, They'll be able to look back and remember that day because of the change in themselves. A sobering thing to acknowledge as a teacher is that practically nothing we share will be remembered in a matter of minutes, hours or days. And yet somehow though so quickly forgotten, it can help to shape people subconsciously and like food nourish the soul.
In the vast world of knowledge, there are only a few spots of dirt where I feel able to build and add original thought and yet there are tons of other areas that are of great interest to me. So i read books filled with fascinating information on such, which confirms, argues and defends things i believe with eloquence and depth. The books imprint opinions even deeper in my mind and concrete concepts so as to be unmovable. And yet still no matter how much I read and try to retain it and remember it, I could not repeat any of it coherently to save my life! I can't hardly even give a summary of the books i read, all that information really only serves to strengthen a perspective, belief or opinion and in the rare case change an opinion. With many of the books I read, I feel I am merely left with a good feeling and so i give the books a high rating, but in this way i am like the man who heard the good sermon. For i can't recap what I read, but in the moment it was oh so interesting.
I am a match wanting to share its warmth But you are wet wood that refuses to relate like a black hole you make still-borns out Of the fragile bright ideas forming in me
When I come in with a heavy heart You're in the mist of a party When I come in with a joke You're in the mist of a funeral I am always out of place Like a chess piece on a scrabble-board
Your silence takes a needle and thread and sews my lips tight less I speak You always are so quick to screw on the lid Less my ideas poured out into the room
If I do speak my words stumble and stagger up to highly secure doors upon which I knock But no one will open-not even a crack So I wonder off and find a cold lonely place to die
My ideas are incomplete like a man without any eyes They grope about hoping for someone take them by the hand But it seems that those I implore have no ears For despite my pleading no one gives me the slightest attention
Yet no wonder-I can't speak in your presence My words come out in incoherent broken fragments I can't even understand what I'm trying to communicate So I don't blame you for your blatant lack of interest
Yet it seems like you somehow are a blender Scrambling my systematic orderly thoughts Or its like you put a filter upon my mouth So anything that I say comes out trite and cheap
Its like you instantly drain my batteries So my brain starts to malfunction when your around I hate that this is the only me that you will ever see Never will I be able to articulate whats within me
The food we eat goes through quite a change from before we eat it, to afterwords. Likewise, teachings and information have an initial shape and a flavor, but once we've enjoyed the taste and texture, it passes into us and is quickly forgotten. The our memory of the information in its original form can be likened to our being able to recall a good dinner, typically only the gourmet and special meals find a place in our mind and when we recall it, we recall how it taste and the experience. Like food, after consumption, hidden within us, information goes through a complex digestion process, one that we're quite unaware of. Most of it will end up being waste, but parts, both good and bad will somehow become absorbed in us. Now this is whats interesting to me, when I look in the mirror, I don't think peta-bread, beans, baby spinach, banana and oatmeal! And yet if i did not eat, I would eventually be looking at a skeletal frame with skin on it, so in a weird way I really am looking at the result of food when I look in the mirror, I just don't really think of it that way. Maybe when I observe obvious changes; either my significantly gaining or loosing weight, i may look at my waistline and think donuts or the lack thereof, but most times i don't connect the sight of my body and my state of being with the food I eat. likewise, its hard to pen point the messages and the books that are most apart of me, precisely because the are so absorbed, and have change forms so much that its no longer clear.but every now and then the change inside is so obvious and fast that i know it was a certain teaching.
When I read a book, its as if they did the work to peel another layer off of an onion, in their writings they hand it to me, I look at it through my colored glasses and find it interesting, but there is nothing much I can do with one piece and I quickly forget about it. So what I've learned is, I need to take the onion in my own hand and try to peel another lay off myself if I am to really learn much. I often want to be a lazy learner, just listen and yet if I don't force myself to think and get some insights that are my own, it profits me little. So books should more serve to bring new onions (subjects) to mind, to meditate and think about
Evidently such a belief can fit within the skull That the whole ocean can be contained in a thimble But no matter how the mouth raves and boast We're all rather washed up, bleached and shallow
We can't know the whole without knowing the parts, and yet we can't know the parts without knowing the whole, and thus we're left at a sort of standstill. Even when we're filled were still fools