I think back and so much of what I’ve said over the course of my life seems like such utter and complete bull. There was a time when I believed in all kinds of things I no longer believe, when I espoused things I no longer espouse.
I think, “Is there a day coming when I’ll be ashamed of what I’m doing and saying right now?”
A friend asked me for advice on a project and half way through my email reply I received an omen: a huge black crow flew into the window and I jumped out of my skin. I took it as a warning to shut my mouth. I stopped typing, told him to ignore my advice and do his own thing. Now I worry that I might have hurt his feelings.
Of the many people have I have influenced in my life, how many have been positively influenced, and how many negatively? Do the positive influences outweigh the negative?
I find myself wondering if something I’ve said, or might say in the future, could have made someone decide not to create something beautiful. Then I think, who am I to presume that I’ve had any influence at all?
I’m a writer, a talker, an influencer, a teacher. It’s what I do, it seems to be in my DNA. When I was 8 years old I was reading books about bugs and teaching the other neighborhood boys which ones were which. At 15 I started my first novel and started teaching my friends how to play D&D. Forty years later and only the subject matter has changed. Lately what I’m doing now seems childish and pointless.
Is this wisdom or doubt? I guess that remains to be seen.