When I was a little kid, my parents worried about how much I read. Some summer days, when my mom was home from school, she’d kick me out of the house and make me go outside to play, so that I wouldn’t spend all day every day reading in my room. In retrospect, I appreicate her instilling a love of nature in me, as well as encouraging me to read, just not too much.
By the time I was in 6th grade, I had read every single book in my little hometown’s public library, and many of them I had read several times. I kept that reading frenzy going throughout my life—sometimes at the expense of other things I should have been doing—but then when I moved back to Indiana from Minnesota, I was paralyzed by depression and work stress, and instead of reading, I’d either sleep or watch movies. In my defense, reading is difficult to do for fun when reading is also my job as an Engish teacher.
I am happy to announce that I have read six books already in 2026, and with one of them being Moby Dick, I am pretty proud of myself. I haven’t added up how many pages that it, but it’s definitely more than I have read in the past several years. Here’s what I am learning by reading for pleasure, and not for work. I love fiction in a way that I had forgotten I love fiction. Fiction takes you to places that you’ll never have the chance to go to without a good book. Fiction allows me to escape, to empathize, to go a little outside of my own experiences and see what other people think. I also love nonfiction, but I already knew that. Reading actual books is a lot easier when I’m not filling my time with social media, and reading books doesn’t make me compare myself to other people or submit me to watching grown people argue constantly.
I’ve also been really diligent about taking some time for quiet and reflection every day, and it has ended up being about an hour each day, plus about 50 minutes of time dedicated to meditation. In the hour each morning, usually, I read a couple of chapters in the Old Testament, a chapter in the New Testament, and a Psalm. I’ve been reading the Psalm out loud, like I mentioned in my last post, and Luna, my pup, doesn’t really love it, but she tolerates me keeping her awake. I also spend some time journaling each day about what I am thankful for and what is a small beautiful thing that I’ve noticed. This ritual is taking me to new places in being centered and present, after having been so chaotic and drifterly for several years. By drifterly, I mean that I have felt like I have been floating through time, moving from event to event without ever stopping to be grounded and present in the moment. That makes me feel really disconnected from the things that mean the most to me.
Similarly, I’ve begun swimming every morning as well. I’m trying to get in 2000 yards each morning before school, and if you’ve ever swum laps, you know that should count as meditation as well. Whether I’m counting my laps, or counting my strokes, or just existing to follow that black line, I can’t, or don’t, think about much else except breathing, so I feel so good when I finish. And, swimming is really good for the body, being both cardiovascular and strength training.
My point in all of this is that, since I am ridiculously self-reflective, that I feel so much better than I have in many years. I feel grounded. I am able to remain present. My brain feels like he is being challenged in new ways. My body feels better. My blood pressure is going down. Basically, all the good things. So, here’s what I am working on: walking at least two miles a day (that goal isn’t going to so well), forgiveness (hard when you don’t have the space to ruminate on it), and judemental behavior (I realized that when I surround myself with judgement, I tend to be like that too).
All of this to say, that I am pleased with my new life, but I am still trying to get better every day. I am healing, but not healed. I am moving forward, but not yet there. I am proud of myself for maitaining my goals for a month.
Reason Breeds Insanity 