Looking back over years of writing to you, gentle reader, I see my great error: I never made it clear that I love you.
When I passed information on, I pretended to be objective. When I argued, I assumed the superior stance: “I know and you don’t.” When I called for action, I did it arrogantly. I tried morality to make a point. I emphasized jazzy language and clever punch lines.
I can’t blame you if you didn’t listen.
Many years ago, I decided that I have to love myself because I am all I have. It’s simply a matter of admitting that, as living beings, we are always subjective. At the same time, I could think of no particular superiority in myself. It reasoned, then, that if I deserve my love, then everybody else is equally deserving. I remember it clearly. It was 1966. That’s when I began to try to find ways to work for a better world for all.
I was never very good at it, and made many more mistakes than advances. I can talk about overcoming my ego, but I’ve never actually done it. My writing suffered for it, and suffers now.
I want to say that I am sharing information with you because I care what happens to you. I want to say that I want to help break you free of some of the obstructions I have overcome so that you can live your life more fully. I want to say that I can help guide you past some of my myriad mistakes. It isn’t arrogance, or it isn’t just arrogance; I want to be of help.
I have never communicated any of that well. But I intend to go on trying.