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May 15, 2013, 02:12:59 PM
I write often, here, and on other forums and blogs. I often say quite strange things.
Mostly, by the comments that follow what I write, I see that what I write is largely misunderstood.
Not just in its content, but in its motivation.
Many hold the opinion that 'it is all about me', or that I seek some kind of praise.
But this is never the case.
So what am I doing, anyway?

I've been around a long, long time. I started from nothing, or possibly even less than nothing, abandoned very early, the kind of life lived by most others, and set out to explore the world, and life itself.
I've had many experiences that few ever have, and discovered things, first-hand, that most others only read about, or see in movies. I've learned an awful lot from all this.

One of the very odd things I notice about responses to what I write, is that many see those things as uninteresting, boring, or out and out lies. As ego, or narcissism, when they are nothing of the sort. I could get quite discouraged by all this, if it were not for the occasional private messages and emails that tell me how inspiring my words often are, by people who rarely comment, preferring to dispense with the gratuitous abuse that commenting so often rewards the commenter with.

No. I write what I write, because it is interesting, unusual, or even unknown. If it wasn't, why would I bother writing at all? I have stuff important enough to share. And I am one who naturally shares important enough things, simply because I can.
I hope, I suppose, to inspire. This means to supply food for thought, for consideration, for wonderment and question, to take a reader from where they are, to where they are not yet. To stretch the bounds of their own experience.

This is neither teaching, nor preaching. It certainly isn't anything to do with self-aggrandizement, as is so often claimed. It is what it is: real life experience of things rarely, if ever, experienced, especially by the young. The kind of things only experienced over many years and in the face of many dangers. If ever.

Inspiration is something few understand, in today's society. It suggests a giving, rather than a taking. An investment in time, and in imagination. A journey one may embark on, simply to see where it goes. And so what if it goes nowhere? A life is a very, very long affair, even when it is short. There is time to investigate possible cul-de-sacs, because until those places are investigated, who knows what might lie there, undiscovered?

You only know what you know. There is always more than you know, that you don't yet know. But you'll never know it if you only judge things as right, or wrong, by what you know now. 

So you're intelligent. So what? What does that mean? What use is it?
What are you going to do with it?