What do Paul of Tarsus, Catherine the Great, Queen Victoria, Voltaire, H.P. Lovecraft, Jean-Paul Sartre, Anais Nin, and J.R.R. Tolkien all have in common? They were all prolific letter writers. Writing letters is an art. There is something very satisfying about the act of physically making marks on paper. When thoughts flow from your brain, to your hand, and onto the paper, it is a very personal act. A bit of your personality flows with them. In our digital age of constant connection, rapid texting, abbreviations and netspeak, something is missing. There is no soul in a text message. Brb. Lmfao.
A few weeks ago, I sent my children off to piano lessons with a stack of letters and packages I wanted them to mail on their way back. These were not stamped yet, so they would have to interact with our friendly, local postal workers. I send them out on this chore from time to time, and here is why:
When I stepped into the post office last week, Frances, one of our lovely postal workers, greeted me with a smile and told me how sweet and polite my children had been mailing out my packages. She praised me for making my kids familiar with how the mail works, and told me that she some times gets young people in who do not even know how to address an envelope. I was kind of shocked to hear this. I never gave a second thought to making sure my children would know this very basic life skill. Our world may be more and more digitally oriented, but the mail is still a very important part of our daily lives. You cannot apply for a passport online, but you can at the post office! But apparently there are young people out there who do not know how the mail works, and that is just plain sad. Frances and I then both fawned over a beautifully decorated envelope I had in my box. It is from my friend, Chris, who is one of my friends kind and eccentric enough to indulge my love for snail mail. As you can see, even the stamp matches. On point, solid gold mint, my man!
In addition to my real life friends who write to me, I also have a few pen palls I have never met in real life. I don’t even know what they look like. But they are dear to me and enrich my life. I also feel joy every time I see one of their envelopes in my box. Sure beats bills!
The best explanation for why writing is important that I have ever heard comes from William C. Faure’s 1986 miniseries, Shaka Zulu (available on Netflix). In it a character named Piet, a teacher, tries to explain to King Shaka what writing is and why it is important. Piet says that writing guarantees that your words will be heard exactly as you say them, even over great distances. The king scoffs and says that he has messengers for that, and if his messengers misrepresent him, they will die. Piet then goes on to say that writing also preserves your words, and your legacy, over great periods of time. Again the king scoffs and says that generations from now, the birds and the wind will still whisper his name and his legacy to his people. Piet asks if the birds and wind will speak of a tyrant. The king becomes enraged, but Piet then explains that this is the message whispered in the wind to the Cape colony about King Shaka. Only then does the king begin to understand. It’s easily my favorite scene from the entire series. Those who write, stay.
There is something almost magical about writing. In Jewish folklore a creature called a Golem can be made out of mud and brought to life by writing a certain word or the name of God on its body. The Golem obeys only its creator, and can only be killed by removing the word or the name written on its body. The most famous story about a golem is that of The Golem of Prague (who was named Yossele, which seems such a strangely sweet name for a monster creature). Yossele was brought to life by the word “emet” (truth) written on him by his creator. Yossele died when his creator removed one letter, changing the word “truth” to “death”.
Hebrew culture is not the only one where the writing of names is important. Another example is Japan where name seals, Hanko, still play a very important role in society. There is a great example of the importance of names and seals in the Studio Ghibli animated film, Spirited Away. In the movie, a witch named Yubaba places the protagonist under a magical contract by having her sign her name, then removing part of the name, changing it from Chihiro to Sen. Later in the movie, the golden name seal of another witch is stolen, implying that it would steal her magical powers along with it.
These are certainly not the only examples of the link between names, writing, and the occult, but that is not really the main focus of this blog entry. I have often said we are living in a Digital Dark Age. What I mean by that is that we leave very little tangible writing behind. Everything is on a server or in “The Cloud” somewhere. What happens when the power goes out? What happens when the power goes out for a long time? Will the anthropologists and historians of the distant future know much about us? Or will they think we lived in a Dark Age where most of us must have been illiterate? If the ancient Sumerians had stored all their writing on some arcane technology we could not access instead of clay tablets, would we know about Gilgamesh? Would we have thought them civilized at all?
This is why I buy physical books, not download onto a Kindle. This is why I write. This is why I write letters and have that big, bulky journal (a.k.a. The Big Book of Bender) I lug around everywhere. It is me saying: “I am here”. Some day it might say: “She was here”. My writings are tangible. Perhaps not for a long time, but they are tangible right here, right now, to my children. They can read my Big Book of Bender (and all the parts of it that are “archived” at this point; I write a lot), and say: “This is Mom”. And when I’m gone, they can say: “This was Mom.”
You may have noticed I did not smudge out my address in the blog pictures. You will also find it at the bottom of the main page under contact information. This is on purpose. It’s a PO box; the worst that can happen is SPAM. The best that can happen, is that you write to me.
