keep going

Every now and again I have to write myself a pep talk. This is what I'm telling myself today.

Shakespeare, Plutarch, Bullfinch's Mythology, Robinson Crusoe.

These are some of the areas of our studies that have brought me low, that have made me avoid eye contact with their spines, that have caused me to inwardly sigh as I opened up the spot where we reading. The ones that have caused me to read with the confidence of Piglet facing Kanga missing her Roo. Uncertain I knew anything about anything.

I've read all the why-shoulds. I've seen the how-tos. Nothing else remains. It's time to pick up the book and read the words on the page. Gulp.

Jeanne speaking about reading Plutarch, gives us this short but helpful phrase.
Reading builds muscle.
Perhaps you are like me, I know many of you are.
We are asking our children to read and study books, authors, languages, and genres that we ourselves did not study when we were in our student years. And now compelled by a desire to raise our children onto our shoulders, to give them a view of the land both in front and behind them, we have persuaded ourselves to wade in where we cannot feel the bottom.

Much of our personal reading time is spent reading ahead or along, barely keeping our head above the water at times. But we are building muscles that we did not have when we left the shore.  We are making connections and finding ourselves understanding more and more.

I'm writing this to me.
I'm writing this to you.
Keep swimming.
If you've been resting on an island, dreading getting back into the water, flex your muscles and dive in. You have a worthy goal and the resources and community to attain it.
So whatever book, play, biography, re-telling has you discouraged today or any day, think about your goals and keep going. One line at a time.

As he still stood looking down at her, he began to remember other things from the time that they had shared together before Paris came. Pity and love stirred again in his heart. His drawn sword slipped from his grasp and fell ringing upon the pavement. He stooped and gathered her up, and her white arms went round his neck even as he coughed in the smoke of burning Troy.

~Black Ships Before Troy: The Story of the Iliad, by Rosemary Sutcliff,