I don't write much anymore because it's too tiresome. It's easy to put an opinion out in the world. It's incredibly difficult to offer a thought, and all the nuances and language that goes along with it. Nothing you put into words will be received exactly as you intended it. Language is severely limited. The internet only makes this worse. I have engaged in a handful of Facebook "debates" and I can't think of a single instance where a well-written comment was understood completely by the opposing party.
I spent a few hours teaching origami to some students this weekend. I was struck by how hard it was to be exact with each and every direction. No matter how articulately I phrased myself, someone lost the meaning of my words. I have a feeling this happens a lot. People speak often, and it's just too much to ponder and reflect on each word they say. We let words pass through us. It's only when you're doing something like origami where you really see the holes in our language. But there's no "wrong folds" to see in regular conversation to tell us we're not being clear.
So back to writing. Writing for me is emotional. Let's say I have an idea and I want to get it out there. But for this idea to be properly understood means I have to give some background information, some context. But things of this nature grow quickly in size. I've seen too many blog posts that are just enormous. It's too much for any casual reader to follow. (I'm probably guilty of this, too. *sigh*)
So I haven't written because words fail. And I haven't written because there's too many people out there who aren't looking for knowledge. They're looking to pick a fight. They're looking to take sides. These days I care about the words I put out into the world. I want each one to count. But I feel that so few people care. I feel as if my words are frail creatures that flutter out into a toxic environment. They last for only moments before fading.
Besides, I work at a church where my ideas are accepted, where I can teach students who are still open-minded and optimistic about the world. I can be me in a community more than I can be me on here. This is a good thing. It's a great thing.
But it also weighs on me. I would like to offer words that oppose the status quo in our world. But to publicize words is to sacrifice clarity - and invite the kind of criticism that does no good.
But I'm writing this. And I'll write again. But for now, I write for people who listen.
1 comments:
I couldn't agree more. I am constantly struggling with the opposing inclinations to write with brevity (so my audience won't become bored) and to write with comprehensive lucidity. I feel as if these and so many other problems with writing are connected to the fact that language is an [ongoing] evolutionary accident, constantly changing and being subjected to the eternal flux of cultural norms. It helps, I think, to see it this way. If we commence writing with the notion that our language is less a pattern of signs that get transcribed (magically?) onto the audience's brain, and more that it is a string of loosely connected signifiers that are subsequently interpreted by individuals and communities in disparate and arbitrary or conditioned ways, then perhaps we can appreciate the beauty of the fact that communication is a process always already in tension.
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