Nearly everything I write in my personal, daily notes can become a post.
These posts:
– orient, not instruct — orientation is pointing, not forcing (myself included)
– make the invisible visible (to me too)
– externalize the internal, which isn’t as uncommon as people think
– turn theory into practice by example, not instruction
– illuminate ideas whose time has come, or that have been distorted beyond
recognition
– bring the peripheral to the center
– introduce non-linear, non-binary thinking and expression
– de-separate topics that only seem unrelated
These are inner desires for writing. Nothing has to become public. But in a world where we would offer our self instead of working jobs we hate doing, this would be the natural thing to do.
Whether posts or expressions are received — or by how many — is secondary, and at times irrelevant. I’m also learning through posting, just as every artist learns through their art. By extension, we grow. Through vulnerability, we learn.
When someone really reads into my posts, they begin to realize that I’m not talking about me; I’m talking about us. By “reading into,” I mean reading the way I read. My self remains the center — the subject moving through someone else’s reality without disappearing into it. As I read, I bring my own thoughts, emotions, imagination, and lived experience with me.
People’s journaling is often confessional. It assumes an internal judge, a moral witness, a need for absolution or validation. No wonder they hate writing.
My writing is diagnostic. It’s a way of understanding what something is, how it works, what patterns exist, what forces are at play. It invites questions, surfaces ideas for re-examination, and leads to further self-engagement. At times, it sparks conversation where conversation is possible.
This way of writing — and reading — doesn’t turn inward away from others. It deepens relation by keeping both self and other intact.
