Quite like in poetry, post are all about me. Me is you when it is you, if I know what you just read me say. Yes it was me.
Something called a “cold reading”, purportedly covers 80% of most of our; mine and your, desires. Preachers, psychics and politicians can magically speak to a majority of our need, expectations, and senses of accomplishment as well as loss, by-passing my own impression of uniqueness, to common human interest. One can feel they have accessed your secret self. The cold reading would require some adjustment to culture. Not everyone in an Amazon tribe wishes they wrote a book they were once considering. Shortly they may wish they blogged however.
I would suspect that most of us prefer to view post that are akin to out preferences; the choir preaching to the choir. If we need an angle to undermine an opposition viewpoint, we may check them out to see how irrational they are somewhere, but still odds are we are quite alike.
Many post are informational, and so we seek to understand one of our interest, get some side-light on our subject, learn something new. I read tags on wordpress for the broadening of my interest and sense of connection to people all over the place. That is ultimately about me too.
With opinion, politics, religion and other ideological positions on a select narrative cosmology, it can be uncertain the level of honesty present in the individuals consciousness, since that position is by its position, in opposition in some respect to what many of us consider our reality. We can be seeded with a great sense of difference, when ultimately, in a more objective sense, not so much. It all revolves around what I limit my focus on life to. I might see your achievement and feel proud of you even without knowing who you are. If I failed at your achievement; it might call up old inner ghost of tying and losing, bringing up a negative image, even for your accomplishment–easy for you!
My post to date are usually written on my lap top and sent right off. I try to catch all the typing mistakes and wrong word choices on the spell checker. As a child I had issues with spelling, getting perturbed at ‘that is spelld incorrectly.’ I felt my life has enough worry than to waste my precious time on details of what someone should “get” anyway. My intentional spelld mistake is an example, picky, pick, picky. How dare you reduce my expression to occasional mistakes! Thank you spell checkers of the world, even if you do not quite exactly read my mind, or what my big fingers were aiming at.
This post to me, and you too, is something I like to do, meditate in conscious movement, attempting to see where thoughts go. I have some authority (self ascribed) in much of what I say. Sometimes I go out on rationalized limbs, and may learn something about that secret me you might already have deciphered; something I need realize about me or about how you really are not as I assume. As in poetry, words can be pry bars to illuminate the undersides of some rock inside ourselves we thought was unmovable.
I could go on with stream of consciousness morning meditation, but the day calls for other actions.
To my thousands (liar) of fans hanging on my every post; the new cat was running around chasing the older ones for brief encounters last night. It is fine to see relationships begin to form with fun.
May your days lessons be fine as well.