by Ray Jason
|Robin was my friend. I was his juggling teacher.|
As I sail deeper into my Middle Years, my ship of self seems to be entering the Sea of Paradox. On the one hand, I am comfortable with the inescapable termination of my physical self. But on the other hand, I am troubled by the possibility that my work – my little essays that strive to inform, awaken and inspire – will also vanish. And I do not mean that they will disappear simply because they are not perceptive or poetic enough. Instead, I am referring to a far more cataclysmic fate.
However, before I elaborate on that dismal prospect, let me respond to the various readers who have inquired as to how I developed my particular writing style. Many seem intrigued by my more “measured” approach to discourse in a Blogosphere that seems to be dominated by excessive ranting.
Sometime long ago, I realized that even though screaming is part of any revolutionary crusade, it is preceded by a long period of whispering. This convinced me that the quiet voices are also instrumental in shaping societal improvement. I opted for that approach. My goal is to sculpt essays that are provocative, powerful and poetic.