Sometimes I think life is like the Kevin Bacon Game. Everything is connected.
I’m still reading A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It feels odd that I can’t put it down yet I’m only about halfway through. The writing is small and my reading time is a bit fragmented. That pretty much accounts for that.
Anyway, I find myself routing for this guy in what is an excruciatingly frank memoir about his six weeks in rehab. He had a turning point in the part I was reading on my commute yesterday and I wanted to jump out of my PATH train seat and shout for him.
Now comes the connectedness part. His brother gives him a copy of the Tao Te Ching. James is cynical and skeptical about everything. He is tired. He is filled with self-loathing. He’s destructive. He desperately wants alcohol, crystal meth, cocaine, glue, gasoline, anything that will numb him. He is anti-religion. He thinks 12-step stuff is a joke. He mocks spirituality. But he picks up the book because his brother gave it to him. He skips the intro, figuring he doesn’t need someone else’s two cents (so admirable). He reads the first four verses. He connects with their meaning, their simplicity.
I never heard of the Tao Te Ching a few years ago. Now I have a well-worn copy. Every time it comes up I marvel at how I missed it for so long. I can’t wait to see what transpires as James continues his journey through it.