Today in the bookstore this older (like grandpa age), very
passionate man was talking about how sad he was that he couldn’t read all the
good books in his lifetime, and then he said something that really stuck with
me; it was something along the lines of “I can open it [the book] at random,
and give it five minutes; but give it everything I got for those five minutes.”
He asked the woman behind the counter “how often do we give something a full five minutes?” And he’s right, as I
walked out of the store, sidestepping apathetic cats and precariously piled
books, I thought about it. How often do we devote time, just five minutes,
solely to a task? Yes, you’re doing homework but you’re also listening to music. Yes, you’re
talking to your wife but you’re also wondering if you need to buy tomato sauce at the grocery store for that recipe you
wanted to try tonight. I mean, you already have tomato paste, isn’t that the
same thing? (it’s not)
For me, staying
focused isn’t the problem. Staying focused on just one thing is. That’s why I love reading. There’s no labor
involved, I don’t have to hoist myself onto the thing I’m supposed to be
focusing on because there’s nothing else to focus on. For me, it’s as easy as
walking or breathing.
I open one of the books I got, and give it five minutes.
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