The Challenge of Monologue

This life began with hardship and adversity, and for many years only the spirit of perseverance sustained me. It kept me alive and led me across continents, before slowly turning inwards and becoming a deep appreciation for all life. My journey showed me the inner workings of my own soul, gave me the tools to truly connect with others, and revealed several paradoxes at the heart of society which seem both necessary and intractable. I have come to believe our universe holds mysteries beyond anything we can imagine, and I wish to explore them with you but face a bind. It must be resolved before we can truly begin, so let's explore it together.

What I have to share, by its very nature, is best expressed through conversation and connection, but as reader and writer we are bound together by monologue without recourse. We cannot ask each other questions, we cannot prompt each other for new thought, and we cannot replicate the nuance or closeness that dialogue fosters. If only there were a way for us to directly connect across time, then we could speak intimately and avoid this problem, but alas we cannot. We are stuck on either side of a chasm, with nothing but ink between us and no way for you to be heard. I feel tempted to simply remain silent and journey on alone, but it’s deeply human to pass something on, and my nature compels me to share in a form that will not wither and perish as I do. This drive comes from deep within and simply will not take no for an answer, so I’m stuck between the nature of my message and my unyielding need to share. A frustrating place to be, as you can imagine.

You might wonder, what message could be so poorly suited to monologue? It’s not so much what I have to say, but rather how my work unfolds. I feel drawn to complex questions, imagined scenarios, and heartfelt contemplation, all of which require steeping ourselves in subjectivity, keeping one eye on the objective, and rejecting all dogmatic certainty. It’s a delicate balance between temporary truths and limitless possibility, and progress is found by suspending certainty and making space for the ambiguous. It contrasts sharply with publication, which leaves the tentative world behind and forever raises some answers above others, even if stated as hypothetical. It all comes down to new information, and where conversation and meditation allow changes at will, putting ink to paper sets one path in stone forever more. All this to say, how can the flexibility of my process be honoured when ink is indelible?

This flexibility is essential because subjective meaning is not found in a library; it’s found in the connections between individuals and people are rarely fixed in place. It emerges from the differences between us, the symphony of cultural exchange, and the genuine respect forged between people when they share their stories and resolve their conflicts. We change over time and all bonds require yielding to discovery, but when only one of us can speak, how can we achieve this fusion? I need your perspective to build enduring understanding, but have only mine on hand. It’s quite a challenge working only with monologue, and there are ethical considerations beyond the technical difficulty.

If we proceed without the back-and-forth of conversation to aid us, then we open the door to misunderstanding and misrepresentation, and I wonder just how many people have been led astray by well-intentioned authors. How will people react to my work when the cultural lens has moved on, what happens when my ideas become their own antithesis, and what prevents opportunistic vultures from intentionally twisting my work to deceive you? These concerns tempt me to remain silent and leave you to voyage on alone, but again, my nature forbids it. I have to wonder whether my concerns are premature, as I have no readers, but ethics requires forethought, and like a tiny butterfly flapping its wings, my work could have ramifications. We’re all responsible for our consequences, however distant, and our willingness to consider others is the only difference between empathy and apathy. How though can a decision be made when the consequences of both action and inaction are entirely unknown?

It's a complex bind, but the exit isn't found in analysis or calculation. It comes by letting mindfulness wash away all concerns and unearth the supple joy of putting ink to paper (or finger to key, in my case). It's a wonderful feeling which flows from deep within, stretches back to our earliest tribes, and creates a community that spans millennia. From here I saw humanity as a single whole, one vast mind divided by time and united by text, endlessly reading, writing, and passing something on to itself. A little poetic, perhaps, but it renders a simple perspective: We live when we put our faith in each other and let our voices flow without inhibition, and we die when we lock our voices behind fear and keep them to ourselves. My message may eventually become brittle, some may find confusion, and others may twist it for their own ends, but that's the risk we must take to live. A rather obvious conclusion, in hindsight, but not easy to reach for someone with my past.

Yes, this life began with hardship and adversity, and many years have gone by with the past looming over me, but our beginnings do not determine our ends. I was supposed to listen to fear and stay silent, but I have chosen to leave the path laid out before me and create a new future. It starts with the decision to publish, no matter how imperfect, and giving others the chance to read. Joining and sharing is human, so onwards, upwards, and wherever else the future takes us. I’m ready to go, and you're more than welcome to come with me.