The words that stay...

I sometimes forget the power of the written word.  The power it has on me.  Human interaction is amazing but there are many people we simply cannot interact with.  The written word allows us to transcend time and space.

I cannot say that other forms of art don't have a similar effect, yet I find the lyrics and the screenplay move evocative then the melody or performance.  As with all art, appreciation and interpretation is personal.  However, the written word has a clarity I do not find in other media.  Its creator can limit the interpretation.  The writer uses one of humanities most powerful tools and so can often deliver their thoughts more directly.  Yet the nuance of language, its fluidity, allows great depth to be captured.

The words that stay have had several forms from the engraved, to the penned, to the inked, to the alignment of bits.  But I do believe that the form is of no consequence.

The experiences of a work's original readers may vary greatly from the experience of its latest.  However, the written word binds its readers.  It allows experience and context to be explained.  The author to describe as much or as little of their circumstances as they choose.  It may not translate in all cases, but that simply limits its audience and in some cases encourages further inquiry.

But the written word has a power greater than all other forms of art.  It expands upon the power of its older sibling the spoken word.  It can relate fact as well as fancy.  Obviously a collection of dates and statistics lacks artistry, but facts need not be so dry.  Accounts of the lives of our predecessors can both educate and inspire.  Thoreau's most recognized works were not fiction.  As with other art, investigation can yield other data.  We learn of techniques, processes, and can gain historical insight from frescoes as well as novels.

The written word also has some of the immediacy of its older sibling.  Inspiring oratory has had a dramatic effect on our civilization as have inspiring essays.  In some cases, the two are distinguished only by audience as evidenced by the great speeches.  Some of their evocative power cannot be captured in ink, but much of it can.

Mass communication now allows the spoken word to be experienced by billions but it remains ephemeral.  This is changing and so the spoken word may soon be on equal footing with the written word.  I believe the written word will still remain the most powerful tool we have for expression.

But then again, I'm hardly objective.

Why I don't write....

If one looks back at this collection of 0's and 1's, they would think that the tragic has avoided me. To a large extent it has. My life has been simple and my cares small.

But there is another factor. I have spent a good deal of my life being silent. I believe that words have power. I believe that a wordsmith can change the world with them. Although I will not credit myself with that title, I hope that my words have some effect.

What I have never been able to do with words is mend. Words may be able to heal, but I lack the skill to use them in that way. In truth, I have not witnessed words heal. I have seen them tear and harm. I have seen them change people before my eyes. I have never seen them silence grief. Where a hand can offer strength, offer aid, offer support, offer warmth, offer friendship, connect 2 humans... words are a poor surrogate.

We humans have spread out. We can communicate across countries, across continents and oceans, in select circumstances across millions of miles. But what we have found out again and again, is that human interaction was designed for occurring within the range of 2 extended hands.

I can show you photos of other worlds, other stars, the other side of our own world. I can speak to you about warmth or cold, about pain and joy. You can hear the song of whales in your living room or view a mountain range on the other side of the world from your chair. But what I can't do is let you touch the water. To feel the wind on your face, you have to be there. To offer my hand or my shoulder, I must be near you.

And so, these bits are inadequate. There is no use in storing them. I have no perspective to add. I can not say anything to ease pain. I don't wish to store the failure for later review. Perhaps, if I do, I can learn from the failure.

But the risk of adding to the pain is simply too great. And so, I will simply try to digitize a touch, a handshake, a hug. If I fail, no one will know of it. If I succeed, I will have something to offer other than silence.

The need to write...

I believe I've written before about the need to write... The need to get something down... To express your thoughts in a lasting way. I can't explain it. Simply putting thoughts into medium has a profound effect. I will sometimes write simply because there was time and it just occurred to me. However, more often than not, I write as a form of release. The subject doesn't matter and often changes during the course of the writing.

I've found similar release in a number of things... music... physical exertion... I haven't been able to use yoga or meditation effectively to this end. I am of the opinion that I cannot be passive in this regard. Sometimes one can become too introspective. Sometimes I have spent too much time in my own head. Sometimes the internal thoughts become a jumble and I need to see which get filtered out as I write.

I've played out so many scenarios in my head that it can be difficult for the real world to catch up. I've never been very good at conceptualizing the actual events before they occur. All the thoughts amount to the passing fancy of a young man. The young man thankfully has learned that his own vision is poor. The conversations he imagines vary drastically from those he actually has. Alas, I have become no better at accurately predicting a result than I am in stopping myself from trying.

So, here I sit. The possible outcomes rolling through my head. Attempting to judge probabilities without all of the information. Unable to influence the results. Only one question keeps running through my mind...

Do other people's brains work like this?