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As usual I've been reading quite a bit recently- however my catalogue of readings to the left have failed to keep pace. Most of my reading had been involved with school, where for awhile I was pursuing a teaching cert and masters in teaching through George Fox. I learned a ton about education but perhaps more importantly, learned that this time in my life is not suited to pursuing higher education. So that has been postponed indefinitely. However, came across some great books which is prompting this post.

Steve Jobs, of Apple computer fame, once said, "Expose yourself to the best things humans have done and try to bring those things into what you are doing." So in that light I would like to share with you a fantastic bit of writing that I came across in the book 'Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini. Get it. Read it. You'll be blessed. Here are a couple of passages that I thought profoundly well written:

'I looked at the photo. Your father was a man torn between two halves, Rahim Khan had said in his letter. I had been the entitled half, the society-approved, legitimate half, the unwitting embodiment of Baba’s guilt. I looked at Hassan, showing those two missing front teeth, sunlight slanting on his face. Baba’s other half. The unentitled, unprivileged half. The half who had inherited what had been pure and noble in Baba. The half that, maybe, in the most secret recesses of his heart, Baba had thought of as his true son.
I slipped the picture back where I found it. Then I realized something: That last thought had brought no sting with it. Closing Sohrab’s door, I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.'

---and---

'He didn't so much live with us as occupy space. And precious little of it. Sometimes, at the market, or in the park, I'd notice how other people hardly seemed to even see him, like he wasn't there at all. I'd look up form a book and realize Sohrab had entered the room, had sat across from me, and I hadn't noticed. He walked like he was afraid to leave behind footprints. He moved as if not to stir the air around him.'