Nobody is reading this. Do I type more because no-one is reading this? But would I type more again if this wasn’t in my name? How would I feel if, for some bizarre reason, this ‘cat blog’ became of interest to a large audience?
I think it’s important to be comfortable with our own truth. But I wouldn’t go so far as saying that I am fully comfortable with my own truth. There’s always a desire to have people agree with you. To be right. Unequivocally.
That is the comfort of facts. Of science. Sort of. The truth, whatever that means, is that facts and science are as vulnerable as any other knowledge, just in different ways. Always on the precipice, ready to be proven redundant or, worse, false, when we uncover just a little more of the puzzle.
The truth is, there is no truth. Not truly.
The only truth we have is the one we see from exactly where we are. And nobody else is standing where we are. So when we talk about our truth, there are repercussions. We give away secrets about ourselves. We invite disagreement. We are obliged to elaborate and explain.
So we might stay quiet. Or we might hide behind facts that can’t be argued, at least for now. Or we might only express ourselves in an echo chamber of like-minded souls who will validate our standpoint. Or we might simply not reveal our names, talking only to strangers, bold in our anonymity.