Sunday, September 16, 2012

What road will you travel?


By William G. Muir
Different people write for different reasons. Everyone one of us that sits down with a pen in hand, or who bangs away at the the keys on a keyboard has something to say. Whether it be through a blog, a pamphlet, a poem, a short story, an op-ed piece, a letter to the editor or a novel; we all have a need to get what in is heads out to the world. We rent our garments, we fill our lungs and shout out for the world to take notice of us.

We bellow so the world may know what it is that is on our minds.

This is no different for me. I am an inspiring writer. In my time I have ingested the works of others. I have joyfully devoured others peoples works and have thought that this what I would like to do. For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a writer. I have wanted to take the ideas that are in my head and to share them with the world.

I want to entertain people. I want to give people a place were they can forget about the hassle of the real world for just a little while. I want to offer each and every one of you a chance to escape into a world of fantasy. Where the realities of this world are left far behind. This is why I write, to entertain.

What I don't want to do is tell you how to think. I have my own point of views, but I am not here to force them onto you. There are already too many people will try to bend you to their way of thinking. Who's only purpose is to keep you from finding things out on your own. And while they are convincing you to conform to their way of thinking they will smile at you and claim that you have become an independent thinker.

If I was one of these people this is where I would plead with you not to fall for their tricks. I would appeal to you that they were wrong and that I was the one with all the answers. That you should strive to be more like me. But I don't have any answers for you. I'm not even sure that I have answers for myself. My ideas may not be the right ones, but they are the ones that make sense to me at the moment. And the moment they stop making sense to me I will look for ones that do.

I'm not out to find the truth. I don't even know if there is such a thing as truth. I am just looking to make sense of the world. If there is any sense to be made of it.

That is why I write. We live in a world of swirling chaos. Where it seems that sense has packed it's bags and walked away. If it ever lived here in the first place. On the long cold road of life I am but a mere traveler. Wandering from one rest stop to the next. Trying to learn what the journey has to teach me. I write so I can pass what it is I have learned on to you. So that I may come to understand the lesson that have been taught to me.

The world we inhabit is a strange one. There are those that would try to blind your eyes to it. I'm just looking to find a path that will not lead me to some sort of destruction. How about you, have you found the road that you must travel?  

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