Searchings of a Young Mind
by
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William, not so intelligent as to astound all who
looked upon him, yet possessed a certain quality of self-discipline, dignity,
and maturity easily enough apprehended by anyone who possessed even a little
understanding of such things... yet despite his efforts and those intriguing
aptitudes he possessed, he by no means escaped the ordinary vicissitudes which
relentlessly assail mankind... in fact those that have done so from since the
beginning of civilization, since man had that peculiar urge to reason his
thoughts in writing, to bequeath to future generations his thoughts on various
issues of importance. Yet that peculiarness retains some of itself within: man
may not even give thought to why he records his thoughts but merely responds to
some urge within to do so and thus does...
Upon such matters was William engaged in thought
often, without really any realization of what he was doing or why, he simply
responded by allowing his mind to reason whither so ever it would (it not being
as though he were not in control of his consciousness thought...), though of
late he had tried to predict what his conclusions would be... which was a feat
in the ironic... and was awed by the simple fact that he could think, knowing
not how but endeavoring to discover...
From his outward appearance and mannerisms, one
might not recognize such a one as himself to possess such energetic faculties
and intellectual propensities, for he acted no different than most others his
age whose company he enjoyed and whose meetings he frequented.
In his speech occasionally he would disclose some
hint of his true identity in an enigmatic phrase he conjured or at least
thought he did... (whether he did or not meant little to him and only if it
would serve some higher purpose of his would he admit to his uncovering such a
statement of truth from underneath the depths of obscurity in which it had been
hidden long ago... He was often unsure of whether it was new and innovation to
mankind or to simply himself... either of which he thought quite possible...)
Though he made no practice of speaking his mind, he
was no fool to simply want to keep all his thoughts to himself and entertain
himself with thoughts of his genius nature, since he recognized that such would
only be pleasant for the time before which it stagnated, aged unhealthily not
all that unlike a culture of cheese which, according to its nature, requires
time to age and thus reach its apex of delicacy in order to be thoroughly
savored, but after which time it will fall prey to mold causing it to be
detested and inedible and unsavory...
He considered the words from those ancient Jewish
books written by philosophers thousands of years ago to be his guide in such
matters as when to speak his mind and when, despite what zeal he had, to remain
silent and seemingly passive... (though to him incompetence was a weakness too
often possessed, so frequently practiced, so little contemplated... and such he
detested...)
In one passage he once had read the words speaking
about keeping silent: "He who has knowledge spares his words"...
Yet he also greatly desired what satisfaction it
would be to speak (as he read in another place) "a word in due
season," which was likened to being such a picture of beauty and
resolution as "apples of gold in settings of silver"... this being
some beauty from within...
He was not unusually striking in appearance nor
though would he have been thought unhandsome and very frequently found himself
in the company of girls whose attention he never considered vying for though he
greatly enjoyed it, recognizing a certain element of fulfillment in it devoid
elsewhere, a certain essential need met in part. For enjoyment he would
converse with them but such was in his nature too, unbeknownst to most others,
to contemplate their essence, how they thought, what they thought, if indeed
they were so different from his gender as he so often heard, and to understand
why to them he would be attracted and likewise they to him... what was it that
drew us together, that has drawn together thousands upon hundreds of thousands
from since the beginning?...
Ah, yes... the beginning... So debated a time, but
surely all things have a beginning, all life must have been passed on to its
holder by one preceding him. But where then did life go after it ebbed away
from the one who previously held it?... to his progeny?... If this were simply
the case, how was it that each person with whom he had ever shared words,
though possibly similar to others in speech, behaviorisms, appearance,
philosophy, they were always unique in some way from all others?... what
explanation could one have for this?... would it not be that if such were the
case, variation, human uniqueness, that which makes us who we are, would be
extirpated?... Life must truly be more than some continuum passed from one
generation to the next...
(Sometimes he would muse over the reason why
everything he observed always required an explanation to placate him... Why,
for example, did he question so relentlessly?... what worth did it have?...
what caused him to do so?... should he so expectantly wonder?... who ever said
that just because he had perceived every question to have an answer, it in fact
did?... who said life had to have resolution?... Yet he knew it did, knew it
must, but this did not explain why...)
Sometimes William could almost believe that if those
ancient Jewish philosophers were right in their counsel and judgment as to the
integrity of speech, when it was proper to speak and when it was proper to
remain silent, could they also be correct when they spoke about the spirit of a
man which one wrote about saying, "Who knows the spirit of the sons of men
which goes upward and the spirit of the animal which goes down to the
earth?"...
What seemed to him the only rational explanation, most rational I should say, would be to say that man possesses some spark of immortality within himself, some quality of divinity... But such an issue now was not what he was pursuing for a rational exegesis... No, for the present moment he felt the need to allow his mind to put that and other issues into the categor
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Book Details
About the Book
This book itself is an extension of the fecund and
budding genius of the author. It is
truly a work unique in the sphere of literature. Who after all hears of such innovations as writing books from
16/17 year old students?
It is both a work deep and profound in all its
insights into the diverse and contradicting patterns of like and a work which
in itself supersedes the conventional boundaries of literature and presents
itself a testimony to the complexity and intricacies of life. It is itself a progression, a paradigm, an
example of the change present in real life.
Has ever any author of such a young age, seemingly so very ignorant and
unexperienced, seen so acutely into the mysteries and propositions of which is
compossed this existence enigmatic?
Indeed the author himself seems to have achieved a
place contradictory, a place where he can view himself and the world which
surrounds him both objectively and subjectively, seeing what he as a perceptive
human being and an individual should see about himself and what affects him and
seeing also what others could (and do) observe and note regarding his position
as a youth and one searching for originality and answers to confusing and often
bewildering predicaments, inquiries.
In short no one of any nationality or culture or
philosophy or religion or age should come away from such a book without having
enriched and refined and enlightened, influenced in some way, his or her views
on both things abstract and things close at hand.
About the Author
The author of the work is a seventeen year old who
has home-schooled and graduated from high school early because of his passion
for learning (thus having studied incessantly). He has a passion for things artistic, innovational, intellectual,
philosophic.
He first began writing as a ten year old, began
keeping a journal and his having begun the habit of writing, making use of
words a s a medium for communication and expression, blossomed after time into
a love for words and their uses. His
poems and essays amazed all who read them because of their precocious depth and
originality.
His word, “Searchings of a Young Mind” is in his
opinion his greatest and most innovational and artistic feat as of yet, and he
sees it as a proclamation of his worth and potential to a world that as of yet
knows him not, a sort of introduction of himself to a world that seeks such
individuals as himself, possessing many and diverse propensities both needed
and desired.