Nourish, not finish.

One should not become anxious about finishing a book as to finish the next one, and so on, for one misses the purpose of reading and thinking. Reading is not to finish, but to learn. Thinking is not to finish, but to discover.

Look to each passage, not as hurdles inhibiting accomplishment of the finishment, but to each as proportioned nourishment of the mind, as the growth of today, not the growth of tomorrow. One can wish for the panacea of the mind today, however that is not achieved by rushing, but by cultivation.

One loses fortitude if not having established camps along the way. To sustain learning and discovery and discipline, we must camp, gradually expanding our mastery and territory rather than plummeting below the depths of rushed aspiration.

Consciousness is a torrential stream, of which we hold the reeds of thought. Grasping for more than the moment drifts our footing, grasping for none leaves us floating in oblivion and carried by its awe. The reeds are a gift, and should be held and excavated for as long as needed to climb the stream with secure footing of governing centre; for we build bridges for ourself, to not cling to mother.

Stay with each book, each passage, each portion, each time, for as long as necessary, to receive its nourishment; this goal is the same, regardless of whether you have one book to read, or a thousand, one task, or a million. For then you will grow nourished, rather than always thirsty in haste. Temper your hunger to be nourished in the moment.

A book signifies a stockpile (of good and discardable seed) to be consumed accordingly, not all at once; for gluttonous consumption results in waste and inefficiency. The stockpile may indeed spoil if not consumed when called upon, however don’t make your mind fat nor starved, for you will miss the nourishment of why you acted in the first place.

As is the case with all practices, be it work or athletics: all are exercised to hone our character, to beautify our soul and discard our baseless form.