Let me start off by telling you a little about me as a kid.  I was timid.  I liked to laugh and talk about nothing as if it were the most interesting thing in the work.  I was shy.  I liked to play with others even if we didn’t share any word.  I was scared.  I spent a lot of time at a laundry mat away from home where I made up a game with a quarter by spinning it on a chair.  I was alone.  My family was there, but my dad wasn’t himself, so my mom wasn’t really there either.  I was sick.  I thought I would die, I spent weeks in a hospital wearing a gown.  I was shunned.  The kids were all scared that I had to take shots and that I had to check my blood in a little machine.  I was cursed.  I read lots of books, journals and papers.  I understood.  They’re all stuck and not able to think for themselves.  I despaired.  They filled the streets with rage and danced with their hate, yelling no more while pushing forward. I resolved.  They didn’t notice, just danced their hate jig.  I found hope, in what I could be.  Fuck ‘em, they were scared, hated and just didn’t care… and here we are at were I *am*.

I’m confident in what I know and confident that I’ll be willing to accept when I’m wrong.  I’m confident I’ll listen to others, even when I think what they’re saying is nuts.
This confidence, gives me the strength to embrace.  My fear, my hate, my love but more than anything I want to understand what there *is* and not some fallacy or misbegotten theory.  I really want to understand.

This confidence, sometimes brings with it the weight of being in the moment, even when that moment is *not* good.
Confidence in understanding, not ignorance, not arrogance and not faith.

With this confidence comes ego… and with that ego, some kinda attraction for “nuts!”.