Out came a thought and then another...

In My Nostalgia for Analog, the author laments the distance created by the many modern communication devices.

When I want to get my life back, I increasingly find myself reaching for my notebook. There's nothing more satisfying than putting pen to paper.

I'm learning to write Thai, my native language. In the time it takes me to write one curved, squiggly, Sanskrit-based character I could send three e-mails. But each halting stroke of the pen conjures up 1,000 years of history; I can almost smell the sweet fragrance of jasmine flowers blooming in the tropical heat, and I feel a part again of a culture I left when I was two. I can't do this on my PDA.

In fact, Asian cultures have long stressed the importance of the pen. Chinese calligraphy is both art and meditation practice. Skilled calligraphers were known for their longevity. In China and Korea, officials measured their degree of trust and confidence in a prospective new hire by the integrity of their Kanji characters.

Yoga gurus from India talk about the hand-heart connection that is created when you write by hand. In Jewish mysticism writing is a sacred act. Careful crafting of ancient Hebrew text will bring you closer to God.

Writing helps connect you to yourself and at times with something greater outside of yourself.

...
Each summer I look forward to the letters I receive from an acquaintance who works at a wilderness camp in the wide expanse of Yosemite. The envelopes are long and bulky and seem out of place in my mailbox. On the outside she usually stamps a stencil of a pine cone or a flower she made at one of her art workshops. When I open the letter the words are crunched and messy, but as she tells me of the lazy days by the lake I feel the return of my connection to her -- one I don't feel when she's only a few miles away from me back home and on e-mail.

Posted by Echo/Lavanya on Monday, June 19, 2006 at 7:46 AM | Permalink