What Comes On My Plate

You open up a book, a one who has been there on the shelf for centuries; a friend might have gifted it for you, maybe it belongs to one of your family members or even a random book at a waiting lobby. The cover must have been attractive, maybe the title or even the curiosity to sense the texture of the papers.

Your eyes come across a few lines, it caught your attention, and out of a sudden, you escaped where you are. It spoke deeply to you. What you read shook the core of your being. As soon as you get back to your context, reality doesn’t feel the same anymore. You don’t feel the same about yourself.

A book who has been there all that time with its resting pages made you feel so ignorant.

You are your own resting book, and it all starts with the decision of picking your book up and investing your time and energy in discovering what your book hides for you.

You noticed the book for a reason, it was gifted for you for a reason, it felt attractive for a reason. Too many reasons winded up together for you to have this moment with your own self.

But those reasons are never enough. You feeling ignorant is never enough. Nothing makes any sense if you don’t decide to accept your ignorance and invest time in embracing it.

The whole process of bringing you together with your book happens much more than you can ever count or relate to in every single day of your life. And every time, you either choose to link the borders of your own cycle or leave it loose for the wind to demolish it.

An ignorant person is what best describes who I am and who I will always be; ignorance is what keeps the fire of learning and thriving ignited in both my mind and soul. Not claiming I pick up my book whenever I notice it, but I count myself grateful for all the moments I crossed roads with my ignorance and decided to do something about it. Thus, here I am, deciding to share spontaneous thoughts on what I so call “what comes on my plate” during a neverending journey of jumping in a field of hidden gems.