Practice in computational and algorithmic thinking inevitably funnels one's thoughts towards themes of personal morality. I've grown up reading inspiring biographies abruptly ended by less-than-spectacular tuberculosis or car crashes and I have become acutely aware of both the shortness and wildly unfolding potentiality of a single lifetime. Furthermore, knowledge of personal development greatly motivates me, as it's generally accepted that brain functions peak around age 25. However, older people have their experience as an advantage over young people. Therefore, in hopes of growing to old age, swimming through streams of information while enjoying youth, the most important way for me to spend my time is in accumulation of wisdom through first-hand experience. This thesis may sound counteractive to the choice of life-long reading, an activity normally portrayed in caricature of idle, fattening academics. On the contrary, properly undertaken, reading should not be a passive task. It should be actively engaged and its lessons ought be consciously employed. There are an infinite number of ways to characterize the benefits of reading, however I will shape two that have heavily influenced my allegiance to my quest of self-education. They shall be named external and internal knowledge.
External knowledge refers to the "obvious" reasons to read books. While reading textbooks I find technical names, processes, and literal knowledge to better point at and communicate phenomena. While reading fiction I encounter human tools and patterns. Advice from long-dead authors continues to inform my decision-making process. Random business books have helped me negotiate a better quality of life out of my employers. Simple affirmative texts have emboldened my self-esteem enough to cause revolutionary, joyous change in my life and self-perception. Politically-inciting content continues to self-propagate through books that censors are too lazy to read. The invention of the printing press in the 15th century was a turning point for humankind, as we can now enjoy a more reliable way to mass-transmit information across generations and the tides of civilization. A library has become a staple for a modern civilization, and for good reason. Shan't the library, that place holding the refined teachings of history's wisest, be received as some sort of mythological, religious institute? And their civilization-outlasting wisdom simply gains dust on the shelves of small-town libraries, perhaps brought back to life for a weekend by some town's odd latchkey child or bored university student researching their disinteresting project. The lack of billboards advertising Lao-Tzu's works is not coincidental. Some reverberant string tying humanity's loose ends is plucked by the inherent poetry in Great Author's works. Is it not paradoxical, their near universal neglect, somehow-constant destitution, yet immunity to extinction? Is this not the nearest definition of immortality we have? As a rule, the older the book, the greater its works, as its mere presence upon shelves is evidence of its ability to shake off the degrading sands of time and attract a cult audience to protect and continue printing it. Beware, however, as pure knowledge is unimportant; a poor chef will present a poor dish despite the quality of ingredients or access to expensive appliances: one's efficacy, creativity, and skill shall be the determinant in the outcome of their artwork.
What then, do we mean by internal knowledge? It's a peculiar oddity that sometimes the best books present no new ideas to you, rather they simply provide phrasing to incubate or harmonize some dormant, mouthless values held deep. The second aspect of reading that I find important is the exploration of internal knowledge. In my view, text-based artworks should be analyzed like any other medium: with knowledge of its inherent limitations and abilities, and therefore appraisal and critcism where appropriate. Through text, every form of translation will lose a smidgen of content. Hence, as all texts are translated from abstract thoughts to words, i.e. authors think before they write, there is inevitably some form of content lost in translation from imagination to print, or at least cannot be contained within print, but may incite or arouse its appearance in the reader. This content, that which beyond the ordinary modes of containment, is of great interest to me. Inherently as I write this the problem becomes paradoxical: how am I meant to cage, within my words, that which is namely resistant? Clearly, I cannot. However, I can get close. You may not be able to see an invisible man, but you can see the paint outlining his silhouette. Therefore, investigation into methods of circumventing this deficiency should act as the paint onto this hypothetical man.
Almost equally important as the context of the text is the medium by which the text is delivered. Any serious reading is best partook in complete focus, preferably in silence. The greatest benefits of reading come after perhaps 15 minutes of focused, mindful reading. You're put into an almost trance-like state. Similar to the final states of consciousness before falling asleep, ordinary blockades in our thought streams are gone, enabling one to make their own connections without the usual disabling shame, fear or ego (usually to other texts or life experiences). How can you know what you think and who you are if you've been swatting away your own thoughts? The act of reading can be a mirror. This is what I mean by internal knowledge; reading is not just words, it is yoga, mindfulness, and exploration.
I have now had the life experience of advising several people on their reading habits, and I would like to share the results of my experiments, my advice, and what I've found thus far. As previously mentioned, we ought to always prefer focus and mindfulness over completion or length. A single poem well-received is preferable to several hundred pages "read" without comprehension. It's incredibly odd to "ego-lift" in reading... What do you get out of it? It's an entirely personal experience. If there's something you don't understand, there's no shame in re-reading or searching for word definitions until you do. If you're ashamed that you can't understand, reading is medicinal in its privacy. Through this process of self-help, you are simultaneously training yourself not to be embarrassed at the exposition of ignorance in groups, either. And isn't this the person we like? The person who raises their hand in class to ask the question everyone wants answered?
Often, people who are picking up the habit of reading will tell me that they're having trouble focusing, even in silence. They'll have a thought-stream that splits their focus, and they'll only notice after a couple pages that they weren't paying attention to the text. My solution is (as it will continue to be), self-empathy. Like walking, doing the dishes, or any other mentally-light task, while your conscious brain is occupied, your subconscious tends to reveal itself. In this example, the focused reading "distracted" the ordinary blocking forces of the conscious mind so that a subconscious thought could bubble up to the surface. From here, most readers shake their head and flip back a couple pages to where they last remember. They perhaps repeat this process throughout the book, torturing themselves like running a marathon through peanut butter. Instead, why don't we listen to ourselves? If there's something that you are thinking about, perhaps it ought be thought. I recommend taking a pause from the book, considering the thought you're having, thinking it through to its logical conclusion, then returning to the book. Suppression never alleviates. We're too used to thinking of our thoughts as enemies of focus when they ought instead be received as gifts: these are highly revelatory moments. You may be reminded of something you've repressed earlier. Perhaps your mind is telling you that you shouldn't be reading right now. You may be reminded of the genuine pressing matters you must attend to. In any matter, the solution is not to ignore your thoughts. Later, once you're more comfortable reading, you can investigate methods of increasing longeviety of focus. But you should never make any attempt to kill your consciousness. Instead, aim to cultivate it: it is going to stay with you forever.
Often, new readers have difficulty in choosing good books. Perhaps they search online for a list of the top 100 most important books of all time and begin reading James Joyce's Ulysses or any of Shakespeare's works with a tired, distracted, or untrained mind. You ought not be concerned with the types of books you "should" read. Especially when beginning this habit, above all, the type of book you should read is whatever you'll slurp down the quickest. Be this comic books, smut, or whatever you're most embarrassed of! There's no guilty pleasure in reading; it doesn't matter: read that. As long as you are focused when you're reading these books, you're increasing your capacity for mindfulness that will aid you in all aspects of your life, but especially when you'll inevitably want to tackle classic books later. The opposite problem is less common but also deserves to be addressed in this section. Do not avoid authors simply for their popular appeal or vibes. This is another failure of personal knowledge. Instead, read their works, form your opinion based on your first-hand experience, then move on. Again, don't pigeonhole yourself with comments like "I only read psychology / French / old / xyz books." This is silly for a variety of reasons, but, just like in all aspects of life, it's important not to draw any unnecessary borders. In fact, a would-be psychologist would best differentiate themselves from their peers by reading things that are distinctly non-psychological. There are no shortcuts to first-hand mindfulness. It's probably inevitable that we'll continue to try, so be empathetic to ourselves, but come back to the tried and tested method.
Reading is an activity with disproportionate impact. We may reference our written law, our culture is preserved in books, and independent journalistic works expose tyranny and preserve our freedom. If an individual can learn to read, they can teach themselves almost anything. But an equally important, often-overlooked aspect of reading is the growth and self-teaching of the knowledge of self. Such knowledge appears perhaps only after a long, dedicated effort of mindfulness. It is uniquely irreplicable. There are no shortcuts in meditation. Although I have maintained this habit for a relatively small amount of time, I will maintain it, as I am already seeing the budding flower of exponential growth. I hope you give it a try as well. I hope you read.