Life’s Curiosity: An Introduction

As this is the first post here, I would like to take a couple minutes to introduce myself, how I got here, and to loosely touch on where I would like to go with this.

I would describe it as feeling rather than actual circumstance that’s helped lead me here. What I mean by feeling is this; somewhere deep inside of me, as some of you may have felt within yourselves, is an ever mounting pressure to create. As with any container, they are only ever built to withstand a definite amount of pressure. Perhaps this feeling was indeed only an inclination towards an alternate, if not a more suitable, outlet.  Have you ever had this feeling, and if so, how does it manifest in your lives?

I have been a rather imaginative person throughout my life, and blank sheets of paper have ever served as my laboratory for consideration and experimentation. Although, over the years another form of expression has seized my attention: the written word. Yes! What a trivial happenstance, you might say, but alas, it has caught my imagination and I find myself to be thoroughly wrangled by its scheme. With this recent revolution of expression, I have experienced within myself a change in which I approach thought.  I can describe it as a re-categorization of the minds intent.  If this idea is unclear, find no need to worry; it will become more clear as we continue, should you have the mind to do so.  Do any of you also write? From where do you draw inspiration? What are your passions?

Long has it been since my first words were uttered, and shortly thereafter followed the questions. Of course, this is something we have all experienced; we have all been through the unequivocal and, from our parents point of perspective, the dreaded “why” stage.  Though, some would not use these descriptions; I would include myself in such a group, for this is a truly unique point in all children’s development by means of actively engaging verbally with others with an inquisitive mind!  What are you thoughts towards this period of development? 

This period of time never really ceased for me.  It took hold and held fast, if you catch my meaning.  Ever since, questions with seemingly no real answer have plagued me.  I learned to seek the answers in various ways.  Be it through drawing; movies; overheard conversations; inquiries of my siblings, peers, mentors, or teachers; and suddenly, one day I found books.  I now regard this day as one of the momentous days of all my lives; the day that I began to truly write will forever remain synonymous and entangled.

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen. The man who never reads lives only one.”         —George R. R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons

At the time, this only seemed to be but another of my curious fascinations. Looking back, I view it as something altogether more deeply significant than this quiet boys amusement.  Rather, it was a diversion from the social atmosphere that came to me all but naturally.  Allow me a short time to offer a bit of explanation.

You see, I have never been fully comfortable in social situations and from a young age, instead of wholeheartedly participating, I would observe and study others as they could do so fluently what I found to be a mystery. Among others, this was a great inhibition I created within my own life.  Instead of learning to socialize by conventional manner, my study of others interactions soon became a mimicry of their actions.  When my experiments did not produce the results I had perceived of others.  Eventually, it tore something within me.

Now, let me steer us back towards calmer waters.  It is not my intention to drag you through misgivings of the past.  I would much rather have a conversation with you in the present, as it were.

Within books, I found the worlds of the great wordsmiths and bards.  Still ever questioning as I traversed these foreign realms, I sought truth and understanding be that it may shed light where it was yet still dark.  As time progressed, I began to fully realize the power and beauty the written word possesses. The simple stringing of precise expressions with so deft a hand will incite tears to well from the depths of our hearts, and just as swiftly, humble us with laughter.  Words ceased to be, for, I was no longer reading the words; I was experiencing them. Through these experiences, I felt a rift begin to mend within myself, one that I had not entirely perceived was there.  What are some books that have so unrelentingly captured you? Why? Who are these authors, to you?

The day I began to write seemed to be an inevitable consequence of the day that I first began to read.  It did not all come at once, and there were many times that I set it aside for a time frustrating over my inabilities.  I have since been able to credit these discerned inabilities for a lack of conviction.  At first, a sudden impulse to fly came over me, and with no considerations, I simply flung myself headlong over a precipice with naught but enthusiasm to carry me.  I have long since learned that in order to write, first, one must put ink to paper.  It happens sporadically that clarity of mind and hand’s intent seem to coalesce effortlessly; only with constant practice will this ever become an intuitive reflex.  Simply put, many small steps in succession become a big step over time. Have you ever started something only to fall short and turn away?  What motivated you to see it through?

I have shared with you a glimpse of the process that has led me to this point. Writing has become a next step in the direction I wish to go, and it is grounded on many levels.

From my earliest memories, I have always viewed the world with wonder.  My imagination would run rampant with cosmic explanations for the most trivial of matters. This eventually turned into the process of questioning.  I would spend every waking hour pondering these thoughts and seeking the answers through others and my drawings.  I can now appreciate the bravery they mustered in an attempt to answer. Even though these answers never quite contented me, I did not yet trust myself to make assertions.  I looked at blank sheets and saw pictures, not words.  It was not until I understood that pictures were our thoughts’ creations did I then begin to write.  It forced me to look inward, to finally start putting my own thought towards long ruminating questions.  The greatest of all the things I have come to understand is the importance of sharing with others; the ability to finally participate in the conversation.

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts, salvete!


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