Hello.

So here I am, writing my first entry in this public journal; and here you are, reading it. If you don’t know me, you’re probably reading this introduction with a simple question in mind. You want to know who I am.

Strange how a question can have such vastly different meanings to different people. Because right now, I’m asking myself the same three words.

Who am I?

My name is Michael, but that name belongs to millions, and says little about any of them. It’s not that being common makes it a bad name, but names don’t define our identities. They are words that help us recognise each other. Even the title of this blog – Receuvium – is just a fictitious word I invented that means ‘dream.’ Reh-sue-vee-um. It sounds nice, rolls off the tongue, but is no more significant than any other title I might have used.

I am seventeen years old, currently nine months short of that invisible barrier that transforms me from a boy to a man, allows me to drink alcohol, vote and legally kill other humans  in war. One thing I’ve learnt is that age isn’t as important as society believes, nor does its definition and categorisation mean a great deal. Age measures how long you’ve lived this life, not what you’ve learnt from that time or how you’ve used it.

I am Australian, and once again, there are millions like me.

I don’t believe in God.

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I attend a selective high school.

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I live as part of a somewhat wealthy family in a somewhat rich house with somewhat expensive cars.

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I’m Caucasian.

Now, think about what this information means to you. Does my age make me naïve? My nationality patriotic? My religious stance ignorant, or intelligent? My education somehow superior? My upbringing arrogant? And what should my ethnicity say about me?

Having given it a lot of thought, I don’t consider any of those traits important. Nor indeed do they constitute anything but the most artificial aspects of my identity. Yet to so many people throughout so much of history, any one of those things – my ethnicity, nationality, class, education, religion, age, or even just my name – could be more important than anything else in the world. Important enough to die for. Or to kill for.

It all depends on perspective, perception. Just like two perspectives on one question. Because I’ve answered yours – or at least, the intent behind it, but I don’t have an answer myself. I don’t even understand the question.

Welcome to my blog.

I’ve created this open journal to store some of my least private thoughts, thoughts ranging from my very limited understanding of the universe, life and humanity, to everyday joys like music and rain. I won’t share everything with you. Most thoughts would take too long to write down, many I haven’t yet learnt to articulate, and some I share only with my closest friends.

But I’ll share quite a lot all the same, and we can learn from each other. As I write entries here, however irregular they may be, you should comment on them. I’d love some feedback. I don’t mind if you disagree, I don’t care if you hate me for what I write, just as long as we try understand each other.

Understanding is one of the hardest and most important things anyone can learn to do.

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“Think for yourself, you know what you need in this life
See for yourself, and feel your soul come alive tonight
Here in the moment we share, trembling between the worlds we stare
Out at starlight enshrined, veiled like diamonds in time

Time can be the answer, take a chance, lose it all
It’s a simple mistake to make, to create love and then fall
So rise and be your master; you don’t need to be a slave
Of memory ensnared in a web, in a cage

I have found my way to fly, free from the constraints of time
I have soared through the sky, seen life far below in mind
Breathed in truth, love, serene, sailed on oceans of belief
Searched and found life inside, we’re not just a moment in time
.
Time can be the answer, take a chance, lose it all
It’s a simple mistake to make to create love and then fall
So rise and be your master, you don’t need to be a slave
Of memory ensnared in a web, in a cage

In a web, in a cage

In a web, in a cage

In a web, in a cage”  – Anathema, ‘A Simple Mistake’