I read through my writings and I see a remarkable thing. It is myself written in yesterday's words, becoming today's realities. I am able to define who I am largely through what and how I write. Sometimes the social context has changed for the words, yet the past as written seems to have a profound impact on who I am as an individual.

I dreamed about pickup trucks and off-roading in the past. I saved my money and finally replaced my beat up old car with a Ford Ranger pickup. It isn't the greatest truck in the world and maybe not everything I would want in a truck, but somehow I was able to dream it and make it happen. My words meant something, they turned me into a certain kind of person.

I wrote about civil liberties and free speech, only to find myself embroiled in a troublesome free speech case that would try my strength and push me beyond my imagination. I wrote about the same issues that I would ultimately have to face as an individual, long before it happened. I looked at the basics of survival without the comforts I've so long enjoyed, only to find myself in that situation. Things where a lot messier then my words could ever describe, but it's amazing what my imagination could see about tomorrow today.

I wrote about freedom and being a free individual. I became that individual to a large part with my explorations of woods and rural society through the lens of my various cameras and the pen in my book. I read, I thought, I wrote, I became. Words meant a lot to me, and they relatively accurately defined who I was and who I am becoming.

My words are not controlling as much as an expression of me in my current moments. The past experience defines the future, so it makes sense for me to recognize my own words and see myself as an individual. I can only dream what this all means tomorrow for politics and my farm someday. It might not be exactly what I was dreaming of but I am sure I will be happy with whatever reality gives me as an individual.