Another Dimension: Reading

My eyes scan the page, drinking in the words typed on them. My heart feels the jolts, the pains, the sufferings, the wonders, the joys, the happiness. My mind envisions this unknown world, the unknown scene only described by futile words on a page.

For me, reading is an out of body experience. I take a step out of the life I am living, and insert myself as an observer into that world of which I am partaking. I guess I have known this since I was little - where I would spend hours upon hours of reading books and noticing the difference until someone or something shook me out of the mesmerizating experience of the book in my hands.

I guess it can be an escape for me. To run from my feelings, the homework or responsibilities that are crushing me, to just be alone for a space of a couple hours. But these days, with no school and only work, its a joyous adventure. I have nothing that calls upon me until tomorrow. So I choose to insert myself into the reading void, the world I create, and not run there for help. I choose to become a part of this story, the life, and the experiences that are laid before me.

My Aunt left me her copy of The Host for me to discover and enjoy. Even though I started just barely today, I am already caught up in the story; cheering for Melanie for surviving but at the same time agonizing for Wanderer as it cannot exist without Melanie's body. I want Melanie to be reunited with Jared and Jamie, to restore her family ties once more. But it seems that it cannot be done while letting Wanderer live. Wanderer, the purest, most gentle being existent. Who wants only what is best and not to cause pain, turmoil, fear, anger, jealousy, etc. I guess that is the genius of authors' however. To cause a paradox, a conflict to draw the reader in, to involve them in the story so that they become one with it. An active participant rather than a solitary bystander only standing there to gleam information.

I don't really know why I want to post this rant. It probably doesn't even make sense. But when I got pulled from my reading tonight for a phone call - it didn't bother me one bit. I'm just sitting here, in my chair, amazed at the wonderful gift that books have to offer us. An adventure of emotion, an out-of-body experience if you will, to break the grind of day to day and provide something more to life than just the grind: enjoyment, love, empathy, understanding, knowledge, sadness, grief, pain. For if we cannot understand the feelings of our neighbors, family, loved ones then we cannot stand by them in their times of suffering and pain as well as their times of joy and happiness - we will not be able to provide the support they are looking for, they need, they deserve. To all those around us, everyone should have someone to go to - fortunately, we have Jesus Christ who has suffered all the pains, griefs, despair and all else (both good and bad) we go through. He has given us the power of prayer to supplicate him, talk with him, be with him in a sense. He has provided us with the Gift of the Holy Ghost to give us that comfort that we need, the loving words he wants to tell us, to guide those who can give that support we need to us. He of course is always there, guiding and protecting. But he always sends angels along the way, to love us and to guide us to our home up above.