New Year's reading list

Blah, blah, blah...

More narcissistic navel-gazing, I'm afraid.  Days of short sunlight will do that to me.

Ever am I plagued with fears of excessive complacence.  It's true that I love my life, every bit of it, and I never tire of reminding myself  (and everyone else) of that truth.  But, the danger of succumbing to comfort and contentment must be guarded against.

Hey, people, the springtime may be a memory, but there is still some sap in the tree.  (Don't take that metaphor anywhere you think you shouldn't.)  I dislike the idea that I have let life soften me.  I deny it.

Rather, I believe I have come to a better understanding of which battles are worth fighting and which are pointless and futile.  Of the former, there is that a man should not become a bigot; or, if he finds that he has become one, that he not remain so.  Of the latter, there is the attempt to change the mind of a bigot; experience teaches that only himself can do it.

I have found two endeavors that are perfect antidotes to encroaching bigotry:  travel and reading.  Both will open windows in the psyche and cleanse away bias with the light afforded by dilated perspective.

Times being what they are, it will be a while before I can manage any overseas travel.  So, today I took a walk down to Powell's Books on Hawthorne and picked up three titles:

• In Evil Hour - Gabriel García Márquez
  
  
• Leaves of Grass - Walt Whitman
  
  
• Poems and Songs - Robert Burns
  

The Burns compilation is annotated with modern English interpretations of the Scottish dialect that I find delightful.  I haven't read much poetry, and since I occasionally dabble on this blog, I feel I ought to have a look at what the masters have done.  And Don Márquez always imparts gifts of wisdom and compassion.

A reading list is a wonderful thing to have during winter.  If you're looking for something to read, I'm always happy to suggest titles.  I suppose it is no secret by now that I'm always willing to offer an opinion!

Heh.