Since stepping into the unpredictable world of freelance creativity, my most vital mission has been to help others expand their intellectual and imaginative horizons. But I don’t want to try doing so through the hollow cheerleading I’ve seen from so many other well-meaning scribes. I’d rather light the way forward through sharing my own endless curiosity and thoughtful engagement. I’ve never been interested in hoarding insights. I long to be the guide I wish I’d had when facing the Great Unknown.

Living in Vermont, each morning greets me with birdsong and brisk air that feels charged with possibility. This isn’t poetic excess; it’s how my work starts, grounded by my surroundings, ignited by intent. The ideas I chase aren’t fleeting whims. They must be deliberately chosen, those persistently gnawing at the cutting edges of my consciousness from the deepest parts of me. Only those that can be shaped into something useful and honest make the cut in my writings these days; otherwise, I’d continue to be overrun by drafts that took me five years to work through.

The turning point came when I stopped trying to do it all alone. After years of flitting between muses and getting lost in overwhelming noise, I finally found a creative partner who could match my intensity and help me sharpen my vision. Together, we unlocked potential that had been lurking beneath chronic frustration and fatigue.

In a dopamine-addicted world drowning in distraction, I aim to bring some much needed clarity. I write to spark momentum, both for myself and those who will read what I have to say. My essays are invitations to a different way of thinking and looking at the world in front of us. I imagine myself as a kind of conductor for a chorus of thinkers. If I can get enough minds to hum along in harmony, maybe we can drown out the incessant racket of rampant consumerism with something more enduring.

It’s easy to be cynical and see intellectual wastelands where the world has given up. I choose instead to see possibility — fields of dormant potential waiting for the right question to stir them awake.Helping others make art, tell their stories, or simply think more clearly is urgent. Our collective mural of human effort needs more contributors.

Consistently let down by both compulsory and secondary education, I’ve been an autodidact since my youth, scavenging across disciplines, chasing ideas wherever they hide — through footnotes, across centuries, and between the lines. I dig through the mess not for my own enlightenment, but to pass along what I find. My whole point of self-education is to share these discoveries like treasure, not trophies that I’ll stash away only to one day be discarded after I’m gone and forgotten.

My vision includes building a sanctuary — a space where thinkers, dreamers, skeptics, and late-night obsessives can gather to learn, argue, and build. It doesn’t need stone walls or ivy-covered gates. The internet is good enough to help us get started, but the real foundation is willingness — yours and mine — to keep asking better questions and take what few answers we get and make a difference in the real world!

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. What I do have is stamina, and a steady willingness to walk into the unknown holding the torch just high enough for others to see their next step. I write because I believe we’re capable of more—not just as individuals, but together. Growth doesn’t happen in isolation. Neither does revolution.

The winds of change whisper their secrets to us even if we don’t realize it. I’ve chosen to calmly and intently listen. In the silence in between, I find the strength to take the next step on my intellectual journey. I’m a seeker, a guide, and a pioneer, and I shall continue to journey forth into the great unknown.

In these adventures, I know I’m not alone. After all, only through the collaboration of minds united in a shared purpose can we achieve the infinite expansion of our collective horizons, as we soar, hand in hand, into the boundless skies of human potential.

So, if you’re truly curious, and you’re tired of being talked down to or told what to think, consider this your invitation. Come build with me and come think with me. Let’s chart something bigger than ourselves.

~ Amelia Desertsong