Rereading

I have, for almost the first time in my life, done a little re-reading of books on my shelf. My previous philosophy was that there are so many books in the world, I can't even read all the ones I want to, so I certainly shouldn't waste reading time on ones I've already read.

But still, I've been moved to pick up a few older ones lately. I reread Lewis Thomas' The Lives of a Cell-- a really fabulous collection of essays from about 30 years ago. Thomas was a systems thinker, and these bright little pieces glitter with both his wit and his intelligence.

I also reread Margaret Atwood's Wilderness Tips, a set of short stories about personal transformation between childhood dreams and adult reality. These reminded me of Atwood's tremendous writing skill, not to mention reviving those painful themes of maturation that we've all experienced.

Rereading these books showed me that my previous philosophy wasn't quite right. Rereading is not just repeating. It's the old saw about how a person can't step in the same river twice, because it is not the same river or the same person. I can't remember precisely what I felt about these essays/stories when I first read them years ago (high school for the Thomas book!). But I know that my recent life experiences colored how I saw them very much, and hence I must have been having a very different experience than the first time.

Maybe my mind realized that it was time for me to have another look at those ideas. It was time for my mind to be reshaped by them again.

[There are lots of "re" words in this post. And yet I'm talking about having different experiences the "second" time around. How strange that the language makes it hard to accomodate this reality].