Jazz reading.

One of the most under-appreciated problems with our well-entrenched addiction to the endless superficial scroll is that we have forgotten how to read deeply.

Circular logo containing the text: 100% human generated. In the centre is a scribble drawing of a brain.

You may have noticed your ability to settle into a long-form read, be it a book or a longer article or whatever, just ain’t what it used to be. About 6 paragraphs down we are already getting antsy. There is a nagging FOMO that something better is awaiting our attention. I feel it even when it is an old book in my lap.

The good news is that rediscovering the joy of reading into a longer story is not difficult.
It just requires a little effort and a lot of going easy on yourself when those attentional frustrations inevitably arise.
Your brain is neuro-plastic, it will soon reorient to the joy of slow, intentional, undistracted reading.

Here is a story.

You might not be into Jazz music (wait..really?), but here is a beautifully crafted essay that will immerse you in Jazz culture and human relationship. Slow down and invest some kairos time1 in this….read it at 33 1/2 not 45 rpm (if you know you know). Let the words speak the story to you…..it will unfold somewhere unexpected before the end.

  1. Kairos is a Greek term referring to deep time as opposed to Chronos, which is chronological, longitudinal, scrolling time. ↩︎
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2 responses to “Jazz reading.”

  1. Oohh, my head hurts.

    Having studied koine Greek this breaks the 4th wall. To begin, the english version is kairos. The BDAG* lexicon goes for ages on this, but effectively καιρός can be a point in time, a period of time, a fixed period for an event, etc. Like most words — a bit of a semantic range.

    However, I do like one of BDAG’s examples which fits in here:

    καιροὶ καρποφόροι – or fruitful times or seasons.

    May we all have many.

    *BDAG = an expensive Greek-English lexicon that has two primary uses: helping undergraduate koine Greek students and being a doorstop.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Of course – no one likes a pedant. As Bernard Shaw once wrote to a newspaper sub-editor about one of their staff complaining about split infinitives:

      “I ask you, sir, to put this man out. Give the porter orders to use such violence as may be necessary if he attempts to return, without, however, interfering with his perfect freedom of choice between ‘to suddenly go,’ ‘to go suddenly,’ and ‘suddenly to go.’”

      But I need no porter…

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