Speak To Me Softly

I'm sure each of you has had a similar experience. I was at the library -- it happens at bookstores and flea markets too -- casually looking at books on the stack. I wasn't looking for anything in particular; just sort of idly browsing. One book, in particular, caught my eye. In a way, it sort of jumped out at me as if to say, "You really need to read me."

So, I picked it up, checked it out and took it home. Each night before falling asleep, I read a chapter. When and if I get to the end, I'll write a book review. For now, I'll share a paragraph that really speaks to me.

It's no wonder we completely forget the magical experiences that define our lives through child's eyes. Coming from a culture that lives a materialist dream of never looking deep, that invalidates children's reports of encountering otherworldly beings as fantasies they need to grow out of, I almost instantly forgot what nobody but I had seen. So absorbed in the vast adult reality around me and thirsting for knowledge of how it worked -- how I could share in it once I grew up -- I was left with a longing for something I couldn't identify. Despite what schoolteachers said, growing up wasn't about mastering some increasing esoteric lore that adults possessed so I could embark on an adventure of unlimited potential. It was about narrowing the possibilities, by excluding so much personal experience that only the agreed-upon game plan for the "real world" mattered. I became a fully operational adult, ready for the business of war, work, and mastering technology. And I was afflicted with the same amnesia as other modern adults -- the vague sense that I used to know something even more important.
~ from What I've Always Known: Living in Full Awareness of the Earth by Tom Harmer ~