Tonight is the first event for the new book, and I've spent most of the afternoon at home with curlers in my hair and cucumber circles on the eyes...
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I just finished the advanced reading copy of Jed McKenna's 3rd book, Spiritual Warfare. This book rounds out The Enlightenment Trilogy.
I was expecting to enjoy it, which I did, very much. I was expecting to not want it to end, as with his other books. And I was right. I did not want this book to end.
But I wasn't expecting any eureka moments or big Ah Ha's. This is where the book surprised me.
Reading Jed's first book is sort of akin to swallowing a ticking bomb.
You don't realize the full impact of what you've just ingested until it has already begun digesting, and by then, well, Boom.
So the second book , though a rollicking good read, doesn't quite unhinge the innards in the same way. (Though it certainly might if one hadn't read the first book. And I'll certainly never look at Moby Dick the same way again.)
I was expecting to thoroughly enjoy the 3rd book from my place in the choir - nodding and chuckling at Jed's understated wit. And I did. I enjoy his company.
Then, about midway through the book I noticed I had swallowed another f-ing bomb.
I'm a little dazed.
I didn't think there was that much debris left in there to ignite. Man was I wrong.
You should see this place. Ashes everywhere. A thoroughly scorched copy of The Collected Works of Ken Wilber lying in the corner. (I really didn't think that one was flammable.)
Don't get me wrong.
I am a willing swallower of bombs.
Who needs insides?
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Spiritual Warfare by Jed McKenna
c young, March 13, 2009
I just finished the advanced reading copy of Jed McKenna's 3rd book, Spiritual Warfare. This book rounds out The Enlightenment Trilogy.I was expecting to enjoy it, which I did, very much. I was expecting to not want it to end, as with his other books. And I was right. I did not want this book to end.
But I wasn't expecting any eureka moments or big Ah Ha's. This is where the book surprised me.
Reading Jed's first book is sort of akin to swallowing a ticking bomb.
You don't realize the full impact of what you've just ingested until it has already begun digesting, and by then, well, Boom.
So the second book , though a rollicking good read, doesn't quite unhinge the innards in the same way. (Though it certainly might if one hadn't read the first book. And I'll certainly never look at Moby Dick the same way again.)
I was expecting to thoroughly enjoy the 3rd book from my place in the choir - nodding and chuckling at Jed's understated wit. And I did. I enjoy his company.
Then, about midway through the book I noticed I had swallowed another f-ing bomb.
I'm a little dazed.
I didn't think there was that much debris left in there to ignite. Man was I wrong.
You should see this place. Ashes everywhere. A thoroughly scorched copy of The Collected Works of Ken Wilber lying in the corner. (I really didn't think that one was flammable.)
Don't get me wrong.
I am a willing swallower of bombs.
Who needs insides?
(8 of 8 readers found this comment helpful)