Feeling Guilty About What You Do Or Don’t Read? Don’t.

I write to you today because I have finally broken through a mental sticking point which has haunted me for years. Maybe it has plagued you, too.

My generation – the 20somethings to 40somethings – feel a tremendous amount of guilt for not reading widely and deep, for not taking advantage of the incalculable wisdom that a library card (or internet connection) can offer, for, in a word, being limited – by our time, interest and intellect.

For the past 15 years, I’ve read just about every day. None of it light, either.

Carl Jung has haunted my winters, getting me up out of bed at 5am in a desperate attempt to understand myself, through understanding his work. I still can’t put down Jordan Peterson, as I’m currently on my second copy of 12 Rules For Life, with my feverish notes having made my first copy illegible. And I will not get in my car without Ram Dass’s Grist For The Mill, just in case I get caught waiting somewhere, so I can remind myself that we are never actually “waiting.”

I love to read. I love the conversation with someone much wiser than I. I love the artform of the written word – the way each writer, working with the same tools of syntax, grammar, words and sentences and prose – creates something uniquely their own, distinct.

My morning reading by the fire with coffee has become a spiritual practice I don’t envision ever letting go of.

But all my adult life I have had this subtle sense of guilt permeating my academic life that I am “not well read,” that I’m wasting the gift, and that I don’t have all the information.

Here's the catch:

We never have all the information.

At best, you have just enough information to make it through the particulars of your life in a reasonably skillful way, skating on the thin ice of your limited knowledge sheltering you from the cold waters of the unknown below.

And I accept that.

I have tried in vain to read the great works of fiction. I understand that Dostoevsky possesses great treasure. But I can’t see it. I’m too impatient. Too simple. Too direct. Good fiction is wasted on me.

And I accept that.

Life is complex. Reading is meant to inform our action in the world, to shape our lens through which to better interpret our reality. What I’ve realized is that the books are a great part of my path, but due to the particulars of my life – my geography, my generation, my upbringing, my biology, my psychology, my interests, my business, my sufferings, and my capacity – I only need a few of them.

I’d rather dig a couple wells than a thousand potholes.

I find myself continually returning to the same few authors, the denizens of schools of thought which possess my freedom:

Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, Jordan Peterson, Aldous Huxley, and Ram Dass.

These are my dudes. They make up the bulk of my curriculum (with a few Buddhism, Stoicism, Finance, and Leadership books sprinkled in).

If I actually understood and integrated the lessons from these authors, I wouldn’t need to keep reading.

If I actually understood Huxley’s Perennial Philosophy, and lived this way in the world, I’d be done.

But I don’t. Because these wells are deep, and I’m descending as fast I can, which is slow. But I know this is exactly the depths which my depths wish to explore. Scratch that, need to explore. And it’s this exploration which, due to the uniqueness of my experience, seems to be most of the education I need for a great life.

So I offer you a permission slip, if you need one, and a reminder, if you don’t:

Find the books YOU need.

They may be vast in number or they may be few. They may be great works of Russian Literature, or they may be Dr. Seuss. It doesn’t matter what you are called to, so long as you heed the call. Remember that Einstein idea, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

In honoring the distinctions that make you you, in the same way we cannot be measured relative to others with the same test, nor can we share the same curriculum. We must find the subjects and content which speak to us, and dare I say, abandon all others. We only have so much time, and if we are blessed by fortunate to find an idea deeply meaningful, then we must be a steward of this Grace and honor our interests.

You don’t choose what you are interested in. Interest seems to come prepackaged, a prescription written on your heart which you spend your entire life translating.

If you have found an interest, go deep. Go as deep as you possibly can. You may just find yourself at the bottom.

If you haven’t, fear not, just know that you do not have to read all the great books. You don’t have to read what your neighbor is reading.

I posit that each of us only needs a couple of books (ideas) to grab hold of and make it through life in a way that is authentic to our Being. We read widely to learn where we need to read deeply.

Once you find what those books are, they are a lifeline, a golden thread to guide you through the labyrinth.

Read wide. Then read narrow. And for God’s sakes, read for fun.

And apologize to no one.

Your friend in exploration,
Chris Matakas