Digital Pen Pals are Not the Same

  

Killiney, Ireland

I agree with you. I much prefer the weight of pen in hand and the lingering taste of the glue from the stamp on your tongue just before you drop a letter in the mailbox. There is something about email writing though. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, thanks to a spontaneous airport book grab (one that lacks some substance maybe but is perfect for an 8-hour plane ride). Anyway, the two heroines are best friends who only really contact one another through long, dense emails contemplating the deterioration of society, as well as their own lives. It’s an odd way for close friends to communicate maybe, but there is something tender about it that I like so much. It’s still slow, allowing them to fully develop concepts in their head and re-tell experiences right after they happen, but it gets there faster than snail mail, allowing the receiver the chance to read it as soon as they like when the experience from the message is still fresh.

There is something to be said about our diminishing attention spans, though. Maybe it doesn’t matter how fast the news gets to you. Maybe it just matters what’s inside. And who cares if you have to go back in time to understand what was going on in the others’ heads. It’s another version of time travel in this life, maybe.

And on that note, could there be some connection between our rapidly declining ability to focus and our struggle for a sense of self? That’s something I’ve been thinking about as well. This deep need to understand ourselves, and our place in this world. As humans, we put so much of our energy into “programs for security, power and affection, esteem and approval" (said Father Thomas Keating in a dialog on spirituality and The Twelve Step Program). And when we don’t get it right away, we tend to flounder and in some cases, completely plummet. And maybe it’s because we’ve stretched our emotional capacity so thin that it’s normal to lose it the moment we lose control. but why are we so afraid to lose the control that we think we have over the life we think we’re living? And we’re addicted to what binds us to that illusionary life. blindly reaching for it, and coming back to it, without a thought. And maybe that’s why I’ve found Instagram so exhausting lately (and all kinds of screen-based “entertainment” for that matter). It used to feel like a place to document. A place to show up and put words to inspiration or creativity. And now it’s just an endless chase for attention. An endless loop of sponsored ads, and people shouting at me to save their content or to take (any) certain action.

 

And where did I get the idea that my perspective of happiness is the only way? That it even exists beyond my own thoughts and addictions? Admittedly, this isn't really my question. But the curiosity came from a realization that even when i had what i thought i wanted, there was still a hole. that somehow, it didn't seem enough. and maybe it comes from the illusion that i need to make it all on my own. that happiness comes from self-fulfillment, which comes from an ultimately isolated self. There’s something to be said about emotional sobriety, “a detachment from our own ideas of happiness and also from our over-dependency on the group to which we feel we belong.” and the constant need to please, or show up for that group in the first place (especially when it comes to social media, haha). these thoughts all feel shallow though like they are floating above the surface and haven't quite penetrated the skin. maybe they will, and maybe they won't, but it's nice to have someone to bounce them off anyhow. not that i gave you a choice, really. so if you made it this far - thanks.