I’m not alone. We call it thinking.

I think about a lot of things each day, though I capture very few of these thoughts on paper.

Sometimes I’ll share them, summarized, wrapped in a blanket of humor, on Twitter.

Even more seldom, about once a week, I’ll elaborate them a little and share them through my blogs.

The funny thing about these conversations is that the very act of writing them down requires a formalization of sort, and the process itself elaborates the ideas further, thus purifying them.

The real tragedy is that a lot of worthwhile thoughts and conversations with myself are never published anywhere. They’ll die with me.

Some of these ideas, trust me on this, deserve better. They deserve to be shared, discussed, evolved, changed, and perhaps, at times, even debunked.

For that to happen, other people’s minds are needed. I can give birth to the thought, but the proverbial village will be required to raise it to all that it can be.

Sometimes I doubt myself. I think, “Nah, this idea is stupid”, or “This is obvious”, or worry about what other people might think.

Perhaps, they’ll think less of me. Perhaps, it will be clear then I’m not as good as I hope to be.

Not sharing my thoughts and ideas feels safer. They can’t criticize what I haven’t shared.

But if my thought, idea, or ongoing conversation with myself is important enough for me to ponder at length, then it’s important enough to share with others.

To put out there in the universe, where it can mingle with other thoughts, invade other minds, contribute to the collective consciousness of the human race.

Fear be damned. Criticism be damned.

The more prolific we are, the more original we become. The better thinkers, artists, communicators we edify ourselves to be.

Write it down. Share it. Repeat as often as you can. Do it as if your life depends on it. Because, in good part, it does.

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