I have a strange disease. It’s one I believe I can’t overcome. It became evident the other day when I found myself looking through an old set of books I have. It was a minor thing, but I found it to be preceded by a feeling of internalized warmth. It was pleasant, like reconnecting with old friends after being apart for a long time. My mind opened. There was a light headedness making me feel like I was a part of something special happening. But, it made me crave more. It was like an old addiction raising its head to consume me and lead me somewhere I wasn’t sure I could return from.
These same symptoms resurfaced as I looked at different texts and various references I found laying around the house. I knocked dust from the covers and titles became available, reminding me of the contents and tickling my sense of discovery. It was almost too much. I felt myself sliding into a relapse. My brain began filling with ideas. My eyes fogged while searching to understand what was happening. My vision blurred then sharpened to a point of almost crystallizing. It made some things clear and sharp while defining others more fully.
The disease I suffer from isn’t confined to those periods of time when I get near old books or magazines. Sometimes, when I’m introspective and searching for answers to life’s questions it crops up, causes a period where I see a brightening light of recognition and then; I feel better for the experience.
Unfortunately, as when there are periods when I have to look at the past and divine the reasons for why things have occurred as they have and why so many people can be imperiled by the acts of one person; there’s a severe pain enters my chest and pounding hammers the sides of my head. Sadness overcomes me and I feel weakened for the losses now remembered.
In spite of this sometimes terrible feeling, I find I can’t resist the urge to continue with that behavior makes me feel one way in time and another at others. It’s a compulsion driving me forward to better understand all there is to see and experience in life. When lucky, I get to better grasp the illusions I chase daily. When not so lucky I’m intrigued to continue the search until so tired my eyes ache and my brow becomes feverish for the effort. In some ways it’s a charm and others it’s a curse to suffer this supposed malady.
Normally speaking it’s a childhood affliction and it’s followed by adventuresome forays nobody but another explorer into the burgeoning intellect and educational process of a youngster could understand. We, as adults, seldom understand because we take the mechanics of the disease for granted. We, in many cases, cease to pursue and understand the symptoms of what’s happening to us. People expect somebody, anybody, to deal with the need for quenching this thirst we find mounting to better understand it all. It’s like wanting somebody to simply open our skulls and pour the understanding in because we’re too lazy to figure it out ourselves.
It’s a disease of sublime complexity and an even more dangerous potential for destruction because of a failure to aggressively treat it with good sense and copious amounts of concentrated effort. Attention has to be paid to the way we treat the potentially addictive craving this malady presents. It can be a real tragedy if not treated properly.
Those of us who suffer from Anticipatory Auto-Didacticalism understand the thrill of being infected with a desire to learn, to explore and to experience things for ourselves. It’s by learning for ourselves we catch textures on our tongues, tremble with the vibratory response of sounds, whether birdsong or man-made music; it’s ours to experience firsthand and not by description or paper-bound presentation in the confines of book-covers.
We blend the colors of the world in our corneal/retinal vaults and know the grace of God’s gift in sight.
The thrill is in the anticipation of learning something new. Cherish it and develop it in your kids.
Thanks for listening
