If you sat down beside me, we would talk. About lots of things. It would be interesting, because it always is. I’ve never met a person – not a single one – whom I didn’t find fascinating in some way or other. Because every life and every way is singular.

I like people who are complex, but no more than I like simple people. On occasion, it has occurred to me that there may be a kind of genius in a life of primary color simplicity.

And there are times when I wonder if I should have made different choices.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for the forces and vectors that have shaped my world. Fate has been good to me. The mathematics of existence have been kind. It’s rare for a man of my years to have seen, done and known so much – and so much of it good. I hope the Powers know that I’m grateful.

But sometimes the wind blows a little wild and raucous. And sometimes I hear voices in the wind. And sometimes what I hear in the wind troubles me.

There are, I know you’ll agree, whole other worlds nestled close by. Just a choice or a decision away. Just a word or a punch or a kiss away. Those worlds are real. They are possible and true, or so I imagine them to be.

What if I had stayed a course? What if I had turned a moment or a month later?

Not long ago, I was at the cabin my grandfather built upstate. There was a big blow, the kind that comes two or three times a season. I heard those voices in the wind, as it pushed and pulled at the solid things around me. I heard the questions, and I tried once again to ignore them.

But do I hear those voices. And I know where they come from. And there’s no escape, even at the speed of flight.

I have done good things. I have done good things for good people, and even for bad people. If you were to say I’ve done wrong, you’d face my pride. You’d hear some pointed words and maybe feel the callous edge of my hand. Because I’m ready to do wrong defending what I’m sure is right. Because I know the meaning of hubris, even though I’m helpless when it gusts into my life.

It’s just the wind, but sometimes the wind worries me.

And that’s how doubt speaks to me. I know it speaks to you, too, and I wonder how.

Now saying odd things on Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/ManTalkNow