It’s a verb. Not a noun. It’s an action, not a thing. If transformation is the butterfly, then transform is what happens in the ugly cocoon that keeps us isolated, yet snug; confined, yet protected. Not unlike the cocoon threads of book spines that let us feed on the experience born of those pages, reading gives us access to other parts of ourselves. In reading, we are confronted and compelled, we change as we situate ourselves with characters and concepts. We carefully try on new ideas and are nourished by familiar ones.
When we fall into reading, into books, we are insulated for a time. Eventually we’ll emerge and when we do, if it had been the right book at the right time, we’ll see the impact of protected space: delight, action, astonishment, uncertainty, joy, clarity, concern.
We don’t transform because of assessments or worksheets, the mechanics of school. We transform when we’re given enough insulated space to do the invisible work of becoming.