One ranter among many
I write something like that thing this morning, and pat myself on the head.
Not for giving anyone who is still reading me yet another rushing torrent (or large stagnant pool) of verbiage to plow through. But because I'm still making progress in articulating the linkage of one thing to another.
All that reading and thinking and emotional process has left my brain looking like the top of my desk. And for you who have seen that, it's enough said.
But a rant is a rant.
And when I stop trying to reinvent whatever wheel I'm working on today, and pay attention to other ranters, I find lovely things. Like:
I’m finding, as a newly 28-year-old human being, that much of adult life consists of attempting to balance these two understandings. I’ll go for a period where I’ll find worldly concerns ridiculous, and then I’ll flip back to focusing on those more material parts of life. It is very difficult to develop in one direction (or to place much importance on anything worldly) when stuck on the idea of impermanence, but it is similarly difficult to build anything truly meaningful without understanding that it will not last forever. So, to me, this is clearly a necessary, perpetual conflict in anyone’s life, and one that’s not easy to manage.
My sense is that this conflict translates into the world of publishing fairly clearly, as it relates to the difference between print publications and internet publications. Part of the stigma of internet publications, aside from their perceived lack of editorial standards, is that they are not material and could suddenly disappear at any moment, much like life itself. They appear on a screen for a short while and then disappear with the click of a mouse or flip of a switch. Print publication carries more weight because, among other factors, books are part of the “real” world and will last generations beyond their final printing. Try as you might, you can’t just flip a switch and eliminate all traces of Ann Coulter’s “Godless.” But eventually, thankfully, the course of nature will erase all of Ann’s writings from the planet. Both print and online publications come from nothing and end in nothing, but print publishing at least seems more permanent-just like a person’s ever-changing sense of self seems permanent at the time. This mistaken sense of permanence is what makes the world function the way it does. Many people spend their lives building palaces, either mentally or physically, to ward off that uncomfortable sense of emptiness.
This comes from the latest newsletter from Matt Borondy, the editor and founder of Identity Theory (www.identitytheory.com). Full of reviews of books, poetry and film, as well as interesting rants.
I wish someone would invent an electric plant that runs on word, and dumps its waste of some kind of compassion drug into the waterways. So we could just drink it and swim in it and brush our teeth with it.
Not for giving anyone who is still reading me yet another rushing torrent (or large stagnant pool) of verbiage to plow through. But because I'm still making progress in articulating the linkage of one thing to another.
All that reading and thinking and emotional process has left my brain looking like the top of my desk. And for you who have seen that, it's enough said.
But a rant is a rant.
And when I stop trying to reinvent whatever wheel I'm working on today, and pay attention to other ranters, I find lovely things. Like:
I’m finding, as a newly 28-year-old human being, that much of adult life consists of attempting to balance these two understandings. I’ll go for a period where I’ll find worldly concerns ridiculous, and then I’ll flip back to focusing on those more material parts of life. It is very difficult to develop in one direction (or to place much importance on anything worldly) when stuck on the idea of impermanence, but it is similarly difficult to build anything truly meaningful without understanding that it will not last forever. So, to me, this is clearly a necessary, perpetual conflict in anyone’s life, and one that’s not easy to manage.
My sense is that this conflict translates into the world of publishing fairly clearly, as it relates to the difference between print publications and internet publications. Part of the stigma of internet publications, aside from their perceived lack of editorial standards, is that they are not material and could suddenly disappear at any moment, much like life itself. They appear on a screen for a short while and then disappear with the click of a mouse or flip of a switch. Print publication carries more weight because, among other factors, books are part of the “real” world and will last generations beyond their final printing. Try as you might, you can’t just flip a switch and eliminate all traces of Ann Coulter’s “Godless.” But eventually, thankfully, the course of nature will erase all of Ann’s writings from the planet. Both print and online publications come from nothing and end in nothing, but print publishing at least seems more permanent-just like a person’s ever-changing sense of self seems permanent at the time. This mistaken sense of permanence is what makes the world function the way it does. Many people spend their lives building palaces, either mentally or physically, to ward off that uncomfortable sense of emptiness.
This comes from the latest newsletter from Matt Borondy, the editor and founder of Identity Theory (www.identitytheory.com). Full of reviews of books, poetry and film, as well as interesting rants.
I wish someone would invent an electric plant that runs on word, and dumps its waste of some kind of compassion drug into the waterways. So we could just drink it and swim in it and brush our teeth with it.