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I just finished reading Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl (which I referenced in this entry). I'm also in the middle of reading other heavy sh*t - along the lines of The Ever-Transcending Spirit by Toru Sato and Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi.

I'd like to think that my enormous brain has simply evolved from what I used to read as a teenager, but this is a matter of delusion. Where once I read Nancy Drew mysteries, now I read philosophical mysteries. Two sides. One coin.

Nancy used to tell me that there was reason behind every mystery.
Frankl tells me that we are not intended to uncover universal mysteries. Instead, we must look for meaning subjectively. Within.

Nancy used to tell me that working together with your trusty friends was always better than going it alone.
Sato tells me the relationships between people is imaginary. Only the relationship from the perspective of the subjective individual can be trusted; but trusted only by the subjective individual inasmuch as they realize the paradox of that statement.

Nancy taught me that if you put your nose to the grindstone, all the answers will come to you.
Csikszentmihalyi tells me that the grindstone is a state of mind; in fact, it's the optimal state of mind.

Upon careful analysis, I see the continuity in my reading choices from childhood, through to the present. It's just kind of. Scary.