Day 3,405

Rather than my typical format, I’m breaking away to give thanks to a book which makes me so uncomfortable for so many reasons. The best books in life often make us face things about ourselves we find difficult to face and easy to avoid. They push us to look deeper into ourselves, they challenge us to see the better versions of ourselves we could become. The self reflection is humbling, the gap between who we are and who we are called to be seems to stretch wider for a moment rather than closing.

That said, they also offer hope. Hope that we can begin to rise as others have, not through their same intense experiences, but in smaller ways, ordinary ways. The role models within the books show us the inner strength we have, the possibility of becoming greater than we are. They offer us hope in spite of showing us our frailty, possibly they are only able to offer hope after helping us see our own frailty.

Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl is a life changing walk through one person’s experiences of a period of life so uncomprehendingly dark, yet is guided by an inner light which shines clearly for others to see. It is raw, brutal, and so revealing, not intending to be a story of heroism, rather an opportunity for us to see the potential within ourselves. There are so many moments of learning, opportunities for growth, all nestled within its covers. Each time I’ve read this book I’ve set it down shaking my head, feeling a quake in my soul, and feeling changed. It is a true “quake book,” one which changes your landscape forever as a result of having read it.

Here are a few stories of his survival in the concentration camps which really resonated for various reasons:

…But it is not for me to pass judgement on those prisoners who put their own people above everyone else. Who can throw a stone at a man who favors his friends under circumstances when, sooner or later, it is a matter of life or death? No man should judge unless he asks himself in absolute honesty whether in a similar situation he might not have done the same.

…I knew that in a working party I would die in a short time. But if I had to die there might at least be some sense in my death. I thought that it would doubtless be more to the purpose to try and help my comrades as a doctor rather than vegetate or finally lose my life as the unproductive laborer that I was then. For me this was simple mathematics, not sacrifice.

…We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken away from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl is one I will read, and read, and read until the end of my days.

Thanks!!!