I dedicate this blog to my filtered thoughts; to the reactions I have turned over and over in my head, refining them with my personality, lessons, knowledge, and style, until they are truly my own. But keeping them to myself does not make them any more mine than if I share them with the world. So it is with you, universe that I share these thoughts.
I once wrote from the heart and shared it with my fellow-fourteen-year-old campers. We were instructed to write our thoughts, freely, uninhibited, and then, after we were called back together, our leader, mentor, wise friend, invited anyone to share any portion of what we wrote with the group. At first, I wanted to keep these thoughts to myself, to wrap them safely and protect whatever it was inside of me that inspired me to write these words. But my fourteen-year-old self was experimenting with bravery and decided that this was the opportunity to try it fully. And I read.
I had intended to read only a small portion of what I had written, for I had written several pages in my scrappy composition book and I was certain that none of my companions wanted to hear that many thoughts from me. But for some reason, something not only deep within myself, but deep within the communion of that group, I felt a momentum that allowed the words to flow, despite my fear to tripping over my own words due my slow, but intentional, reading. And I read the entire passage.
And there was silence. Active silence. A space for thought. And my companion's gazes fell on each other, on me, on their own writing, on their hands, in the distance. And then the clapping began. A few people started the clapping, with an adolescent caution and timidness, but others quickly joined. And my eyes, which I felt would have been permanently aimed at the pages I had just read, rose and I smile. It was a feeling of acceptance, of appreciation, and with the combination of the fact that I had not only kept nothing back, but had shared more than I had originally intended, it created my first sense of validation. I had given my testimony and those, of whom I held opinions in the highest esteem, affirmed me. And I felt what I believe others refer to as "at peace".
There have been a few moments in my life since then when I have felt this, and I have come close to the intensity of that moment, but have not found its equal. And so, I am on a journey to move closer and further from that feeling and to memorize what it feels like at every step along the way. And as I wander further and closer to acceptance, inner peace, love, tranquility, being, I hope others will join me.
I have chosen to remain anonymous because I truly believe it does not matter who I am or who the reader is. On journeys through life, identity is less important than modern society would have us believe it to be. Personal identity may give my words more meaning to some, and may undermine them for others. So I ask anyone who comes by these words and considers them to think of me as your fellow wanderer through life, as another branch of the human tree. And I ask you to read this while connecting to the huge-yet-tiny human essence.
On our last night at camp, we were given awards by our peers in the form of superlatives or future aspirations. On of my fellow wanderers stood next to me in front of my new friends, in every sense of the word, and announced that he thinks, and hopes, that I become a writer. And while that may not be my tagline, title, or bragging right, he may be right.
