Information is Useless If It Cannot Be Accessed, etc.

On the night of the funeral, four daughters stand side by side in the dark, watching their homeplace burn.
Should we call the fire department?
Not yet, says the youngest. Wait.
We wait until its much too late, feeling our burden lift as the house collapses in a ball of flames.
Then we drink tequila in the graveyard, laughing.

At least that's how we dreamed it one time when our youngest pointed out that someday it would all be ours.

Inheritance is not an easy topic with the hoarder's child.

And too, there is an unspoken horror of becoming a hoarder too. What if it's genetic or catching?
Daughters 1 & 3(me) have minimal possessions to maintain order. We let go more than we keep.
Daughters 2 & 4 have a comfortable place for everything and everything in its place, masters of creating and using space.

Hoarding is an illustration of what could happen to information if the Library did not exist. We'd have heaps and piles of information without a way to access it. Information that cannot be accessed is useless, just as possessions are useless if they cannot be found.

I did not realize that my propensity to organize, group, list, and catalog my own life and information was a characteristic befitting a library school student.

I have written to understand, to clarify my many voices, to make sense of my barrages of sensation, to organize my thoughts, to locate what I think, to keep a record of my attitudes, for comfort.

When I assimilate my input or information and write, I feel an obligation to share what I've learned.
It matters not to me if it is read, but it feels wrong not to share what I've learned.
What good is my knowledge if it is buried when I am?

However, what I consider Knowledge simply becomes Information when I share it.

The symbiotic relationship between Information and Knowledge is intriguing, and as far as I can ascertain, they continually morph from one to another in crazy eights.

My knowledge is your potential information.

But my "knowledge" could be "wrong", or useless to another, which leads to considerations of perception and belief, where "right" and "wrong" are subjective.

My job is to share, however, and I cannot concern myself with how or if I will be received.

A story or a song carries with it, a sense of obligation, a feeling that is not really a story or a song if it is not offered up to the universe with the potential to be read or heard.

Humanity's upward spirals are due to sharing information, most easily seen by the breakthroughs in science by continual sharing, use, and assimiliation of knowledge.

Even scientific theory that has proven to be wrong has been important in the evolution of scientific knowledge, providing fodder for ideas, starting points for more accurate research, or acting as gauntlets thrown to other scientists.

I am grateful to authors like Martha Graham, and Maya Angelou, Thoreau, Adam Smith, Benjamin Franklin, Zen Masters, and countless others, that changed my life by speaking to me. Where would I be without them? How would I understand the meaning of my life without their wisdom and voice? I would be alone in the darkness, ashamed and untamed, unworthy to live, a mistaken vessel.

Alive or dead, my author/mentors reached out and spoke to me, cheering me on through life, advising and comforting, without ever knowing their impact on their future readers' lives.

Aside from doing harm to others, the only real "sin" I can ascertain is "hiding your light under a bushel basket," i.e. not sharing.
Whoever you are and whatever you have to offer must be shared or it is nothing.