The Truth about Michael Soldati

We have a stunning propensity as human beings to take in and analyze ourselves, and indeed do in our every waking moment.  How chilling a series of discoveries to peer into oneself and realize.  I’m frozen, in time, merely looking at these moments of my own personal history and wonder at their importance.  Is it right to pick at scabs, or to cut up old scars?  Are they better left alone, or are there lessons still hiding within the chambers of my flesh, forgotten and as of yet unwanted, and yet not far from my thoughts.  Looking down the list of moments in my life I find mostly instances where I felt I have failed, made a mistake, a bad decision, ignored the common good or even my own for the sake of some passing thought or idea.  Yes there are moments wherein I find myself shining, or in the depths of emotion, typically of fear- or love.  Love.  Love.  Love has been such an incredible driving force in my life and if these subtle moments show a mere bodily sensation for another, then perhaps I have failed yet again.  I hope to show my passion for the world through these words, and yet already, so early in the process I find myself telling rather than showing.  Now I betray my quiet mind, to speak words of doubt herein my play.  I can, at this time, no more deduce it’s meaning than reduce it.  Perhaps it is selfish, perhaps it is brave, maybe it is foolish, maybe it is selfless, albeit, self-centered.  Here are my meditations on life, the self, existence, truth, and beauty if I may be so bold as to offer up a description, or rather a retelling of a very personal story wherein you might find the truth about Michael Soldati, and if you do, let me know, because I very much love the man, and have from the start.  (Don’t worry, I love you very much too, so let’s grab coffee some time and pick brains and hearts and souls about each other’s.)

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