Your potential

I remember sitting on a big queen sized bed listening to my Dad read Hemingway's 'The Old Man and the Sea'. Their room was always immaculate. An example of discipline that may not have transferred to me the way my parents expected it to. I could see the perfect, symmetrical patterns in the carpet left behind by the vacuum. The faint smell of my Mom's perfume and my Dad's cologne hung in the air. My sister and I were young and had too much energy to sit and listen to a book about an old man. It felt like it was important to my parents though, so we listened anyway. To me, the book's redeeming qualities were its inclusion of fishing and a young boy, to whom I tried to relate. In the beginning I was doing, what I thought was, a favor for my parents. I was listening because they wanted me too. I was listening, but I wasn't hearing. As the story developed, however, it seemed to surround my mind like a moat keeping all other thoughts, visions and emotions from entering. My fascination with the story and it's characters swelled like a dry sponge dipped in water. At my young age I didn't fully appreciate what I was hearing. But I was interested in the story and I guess, at the time, that was enough. I won't ruin it for those of you who have not read the book, but it did not end the way I thought it would. In fact, it didn't end the way I wanted it to. I could probably extract more valuable lessons from the book now than I did then. I think I'll give it another read.

I can't say for sure if that experience is the root of my fledgling interest in literature. I like to think so. It is, however, one of my most memorable and cherished childhood experiences. I'm in awe of how words on a page created such lucid visuals that linger today each time I think of that story. Especially since I can scarcely remember what I had for lunch the previous day.

Mark Twain said "The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them."

When I first heard this quote it slipped through my thoughts like a wet noodle off a dinner fork. It later returned, along with numerous other items rattling around up there, but this time was different. It stopped all other thoughts like a fish hook stops a trout. I wondered why it hadn't hit me like this the first time. I suppose I'm lucky it did the second.

I guess it's a simple quote that's easy to understand. I guess its simplicity is the reason it flew by without notice. I guess anyone could think on it a while and conjure up some brilliant life lessons and thoughts. But I felt like recording a few of my own.

Authors like Twain, Orwell, Dickens, Hemingway and other skillful wordsmiths had an uncanny ability to communicate, influence and entertain. I'm told reading and writing is the best way to learn to write. Admittedly, I lack the discipline to do both more often because mindlessly watching television is much easier. Does it seem like TV ruined society's ability to produce talented authors like the classic writers before television? As it is with many things in life, we do not fully reap the benefits great literature offers. Feelings of hypocrisy make it difficult to write this, but literature should be a staple of our intellectual diet. I often wonder if I would be a better speaker, writer and communicator had I given literature more importance earlier in my life.

Mark Twain's quote relates to reading "good books", but the same can be said for other abilities and opportunities we undervalue. Noticing only the strengths, possessions, attributes and blessings others have that we do not blinds us from noticing our own. Mr. Twain has instilled in me a renewed urgency in exploring the many opportunities available to me and harvesting from them the most that I can.

Many of us are commonly asked "What is your greatest fear?” A long time ago I thought about that question and realized that my greatest fear is not living up to my potential. What a tragedy it would be if none of us did? What kind of life would we live or world would it be if all of us did?