On leaving a mark.
Some of you may have wondered why I write so much, so consistently, across the years. It is not, after all, what most people do. The reason is simple but pervasive. I wish all that I have been, have felt, have thought and have seen could endure, forever. To my mind, it is not just death all Men should be afraid of, but forgetfulness – the loss of all that we knew, through the unadorned passage of Time.
I write so that one day, my children will see their own childhoods as I saw them, and my wife saw them. I write so that one day, I, too, will be able to look back on times past, with greater knowledge than mere remembrance, in old age, might afford. I write, too, so that long after I am gone, my words might remain to give some inkling of who I had been, and what my personal world had been like. Perhaps those words will find readers, perhaps not. However, it is likely, at least, that my own descendants will read my words and come to know their ancestor better, thereby. I am sorry, however, that such illumination shall be a one way casting of the light and that I shall not know who reads my words, or comes to understand, in some small way, who it was who wrote them and what was written of. Then again, that is how it is now. I do not, in general, know who reads my words. I do not, in fact, know most people’s reactions to these words, since few comment. I know this, however: that there are readers out there, in the unknown world of the Internet. Some of those readers have made it clear that they value my words, and find meaning in them. So, that is another reason to write: to create meaning in the minds and hearts of others, to communicate my understandings and the essence of my world, so that it might be remembered by and carried in other minds.
I realize, more than any other, perhaps, that even my greatest efforts towards making a written record is only the merest hint of what I have known, felt, thought and understood. I have not the time to record all my life as it is lived and experienced: I have only the time to select a moment here, or there, a thought now and again, and make of it, what I hope will be an enduring expression of it. Almost all of my life and the lives of my children and wife, will be lost, at the outset, for never having been recorded in any way, except in our minds.
I understand, too, that those to whom my words will mean most, are yet too young to grasp their import to them. My children will grow into an appreciation of what I am doing, or have done, depending on their temporal perspective. They will have a written record and reflection upon their earliest lives. To me, that seems a very valuable thing to have and something which is, I believe, very rare to have, since few parents spare the significant time and energy to make such a record. Few, in fact, would pause to consider its value, until it was too late to make it happen.
I don’t know, however, whether anyone outside of my descendants, will see value in my words, in the distant future, long after I am gone. However, whether it is widely valued, by others, or not, does not change the intrinsic value of making this record. It needs only one appreciative future reader to make it worth having been written. For then, my understanding would have been projected beyond my time, into the mind of another. I would, as it were, have left a mark.
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I also write of gifted education, child prodigy, child genius, adult genius, savant, megasavant, HELP University College, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, Malaysia, IQ, intelligence and creativity.
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