Writings

The magic of the written word


I'm sitting on the floor in our living room listening to 'The best of Chet Baker sings'. The fire place is warming up the room with both it's amber toned light and with it's gentle warmth. Thinking what to write for you this evening. I usually write after I put Iomi to sleep, I sit down with either a grain of an idea, or a sequence to follow up on, or with a blank paper, like this evening.
The magic of the written word
'Why don't you write about writing' Igor says. I taste the idea in my mind. Yes, why don't I write about writing, which is one of my new favourite things to do. Writing. And about reading. My first love.

I learned how to read by myself at the age of 4-5. As you may remember from previous entries I had noone to play with at day care, and a big reason why I became a reader was because of that. Books were a big part of the Swedish child care set up, there were full bookshelves in the corner of almost every room at my kindergarten. And since I favoured the corner where nobody would pay me attention I very often stuck my nose in a book. Pretended to read so it looked like I didn't care. And one day all those letters just made sense, I went to my parents bedroom and read them one of my books. And that was that. I had learned how to read and at the same time found my very first friend, the book. After that I was unquenchable, read my way through most of my childhood, devoured any thing I could get my hands on. Every birthday, Christmas and special occasion came with a book.
I read anything and everything, whatever was available was good enough, I fell madly in love with books, how they transported you to different scenarios and possibilities, introduced you to the mystical and provided the perfect holiday from whatever moment in life you just needed a pause from.
I loved especially how the written word magically bypassed that first layer of what we see on the outside and instead led the reader straight to the heart of things, to what goes on inside a persons mind and heart, how what we say is not always what we mean and what we do is not always what we want to do. It verified something that had to some extent mystified me regarding the behaviour of adults. Very often I witnessed heard or I guess sensed that amongst adults existed some sort of code of what you were supposed to say and how you were supposed to be like in order to find acceptance amongst other adults, this always would imply a bit of lying or talking behind somebodys back then pretend that you liked that person. Doing things you don't really want to do, but pretend that it's OK etc. Behaviours that to me were a bit strange, I didn't understand how that could be good and that it existed as an unspoken agreement that most adults seemed to buy in to. But as I started to read, and this was of course a bit later when I had graduated to more mature reading material, (eg. From Donald duck to Little Women) I suddenly got a fuller picture. I understood how we cover up when threatened and lie to not get caught at being who we are. Since I didn't really share my feelings much as a kid, never really talked about how I felt. I didn't know that others shared my feelings. I didn't know that insecurity was a very widespread human dilemma. Books put words to my innermost feelings and linked me to the inner lives of others because all of a sudden I could relate. Not openly, no I was still a product of the food chain, monkey see monkey do was also true for me, I learned how to play the game of adults way before I was one. But reading those words formulating those thoughts that I thought were only mine, showed me that there were others who shared my dilemmas, the unspoken had gotten a voice and I loved to listen to it. Words for me were an enlightening experience.
As I now sit down to write these blogs, the fact that I so love reading and writing, both intimidates me and spurs me on. But it's the love for this marvellous tool of expression that keeps me coming back, because I feel so happy to be on the contributing end of it . To share what I feel and perhaps, maybe help build bridges of empathy the same way these written words have done for me.

Writings

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