…is I know nothing.
Oh, sure, I’ve seen and experienced plenty in my life. But, every day, I ask myself –
“Who am I?”
“What are my relations and associations?”
“What in this novel situation is similar to what I’ve already seen?”
“How do I fit?”
This makes writing an “About Me” section a nightmare of Biblical proportions. According to WordPress, this page has read “[Work in Progress]” since April, 26th, 2016.
Staring at those words, they’re more accurate than my ego wants to admit. I should be something as I near 40, y’know?
Instead, I find I’m unable to be anything. Mostly because I strongly believe a human – with all her tics, eccentricities, and failings – can’t be a THING. An object.
And, because, I find I’m someone different to everyone, every day. A different personality trait catches their attention, maybe without me even knowing.
Because… I don’t know how others think or feel. And, knowing the deepest, dankest, and dirtiest wrongs I’ve done, I can’t judge anyone for thinking poorly of me. So, I try not to judge.
I try to fill the void, my lack of understanding. Knowing nothing means there are lessons everywhere.
The one hypothesis about myself that I hold most accurate is: I’m a consummate learner. Considering both of my parents were teachers, that’s not surprising. Neither is my impatient desire to share it with others.
There is some undefinable exchange of energy when people share knowledge and feeling. Sometimes it’s warm and fuzzy; bad times, it’s a nuclear blast.
Whether you pass along positive or negative energy, those waves radiate beyond the point of ignition. Our passions create impacts we’ll never know.
Writing has always been my source of invigoration and solace. I’ve used words to express emotions, experiences, creativity – to weave fantasies and sell third-party services. I’ve let the words of others envelop me, their emotion rippling through me.
When the writing radiates, I find empathy.
In empathy, I find peace.