Sometimes I do ask myself this:

Who the hell do I think I am, putting my thoughts up here. I am only as informed as my experience in life so far informs me. And by God, they are incomplete. My thoughts are merely subjective little things, the result of the circumstances of my life. HOw do I know that someone/anyone stumbling up here may not read everything wrongly and take everything in a wrong light. Misunderstanding what I mean and going out into the world causing mischief or misery.

But then I tell myself:

these are my thoughts, and I am entitled to hold them. I can choose to keep them to myself or speak it honestly. They are only as true as I know them to be. But if I am to wait until I am perfectly sure, then I am never ever going to speak. Sometimes being politically correct is less important than sharing about essential epxeriences in life, however, wrong, mistaken and incomplete they may be. I think I understand what the teacher meant when she said "Silence is death." And I never want to be afraid of speaking out. Because I realize that silence eventually becomes muteness, and it seeps all the way through to the heart, the spirit the soul. the way to keep feeling for the world is to feel engaged enough to speak for and about it.