zaadz
December 2007 
April's Artistic Challenge Day 9: Meaningless Chatter
Posted on Apr 9th, 2006
by 
David Jon
David Jon
Something has to change. What I have been doing, and my efforts applied here in writing this little blog has not been satisfying me. I don't have the usual sense of fulfillment that I normally receive from writing. Something feels out of sorts. Like this is not a good fit for me at this time.
First, I have a lot going on right now. There are only so many hours in the day. One can only spread one's self so thin and then Pop! something snaps.
Am I saying I am about to snap? Well, not as far as I know. I don't think I am on the verge of snapping. What I do sense though is that if I were to continue in this way I probably would snap.
The Blessings Of Communication
In my lifetime I have been blessed with the written words offered by so many exemplary people. Thoreau. Emerson. Rumi. Freud. Jung. Maslow. Ken Wilber. Matthew Fox. James Hillman. I have been blessed by the fact that they sat down and took the time to formulate their thoughts and impressions on the world, then shared those thoughts and impressions through the medium of a book. So much for me in life has been worked out through books and the written word. Together with music there has not been a more invaluable form of art in my own life. Life has been enriched in countless ways because someone took the time to sit down and write, collected those sessions of sitting down to write, and edited them into a condensed volume that ended up in a library so some poor, soul-searching chap like myself would stumble across it and be convinced that life was worth the living!
That's what makes me want to extend the same gift to others. That is what inspires me to want to write: I want to extend the line of communication between those like Thoreau and Emerson to subsequent generations of people who will come after me. I want to be a literary and philosophical bridge linking the generations.
I feel that anytime you are given a gift of immeasurable value and worth you will someday want to give a gift of similar value and worth to others. It may not be to the person who gave you the gift--i.e., you may give the gift to someone else--but give it you will.
Why? Why do we feel so inclined to give such a gift? Why do I feel inclined to write and hope to bring some sense of meaning and significance, joy and relief, hope and possibility, direction and guidance to some fellow traveller searching for 'who knows what?'
I want to give because of the value. I value the act of communication through the written word. I value the realm of letters and signs. I value and appreciate that this is possible. And so because I value it so I deem it a worthy gift to give (though you may beg to differ).
What's The Problem Then?
The problem? Why do I feel something is not right about what I have been doing the past week or so--or maybe longer and it is now just starting to come through? Well, the problem for me is the lack of receptivity based upon the overwhelming volume of words made available on the Internet. There is just so damn much competition! There is just this overwhelming--almost inundating--regurgitation of signs and symbols that ... well... at times just wants to make me hurl!
The truth seems to me to be that one could binge and purge on so many words, signs, and symbols. And yet, in that act what is nourishing about ingesting, and then regurgitating so many communications from this, that, or the other corner of the globe? Where, in other words, can you discover the value--the value in communications! How can you discern what is worthy and nourishing and what is just more meaningless chatter from some sorry sap reflecting on his or her own subjectivity?
Are blogs supposed to be diaries? Are blogs any damn thing we want them to be? Are blogs valued... or valueless?
What, in other words, is the value of a word when there are so many god-damned words being propogated throughout the whole fruitful World Wide Web?
Do words lose their value? Do you cease to be struck anymore by the value of a story? Are you like some high-tech scanner that processes information at lightning speed? Do you find yourself discarding more information than you actually assimlate? Do you find yourself rushed and hurried? Do you find yourself missing out on the once immortal word that is now rendered all the more meaningless and superficial precisely because it is so pervasive?
Wasn't value once (and still is in some cases) the result of the rarity of an object or artifact? What does this mean for a world drowining in media and signs and symbols? Does it mean that the more we speak or write or share or talk or sign the more meaningless and insignificant all that speaking and writing and sharing and talking and signing becomes?
First, I have a lot going on right now. There are only so many hours in the day. One can only spread one's self so thin and then Pop! something snaps.
Am I saying I am about to snap? Well, not as far as I know. I don't think I am on the verge of snapping. What I do sense though is that if I were to continue in this way I probably would snap.
The Blessings Of Communication
In my lifetime I have been blessed with the written words offered by so many exemplary people. Thoreau. Emerson. Rumi. Freud. Jung. Maslow. Ken Wilber. Matthew Fox. James Hillman. I have been blessed by the fact that they sat down and took the time to formulate their thoughts and impressions on the world, then shared those thoughts and impressions through the medium of a book. So much for me in life has been worked out through books and the written word. Together with music there has not been a more invaluable form of art in my own life. Life has been enriched in countless ways because someone took the time to sit down and write, collected those sessions of sitting down to write, and edited them into a condensed volume that ended up in a library so some poor, soul-searching chap like myself would stumble across it and be convinced that life was worth the living!
That's what makes me want to extend the same gift to others. That is what inspires me to want to write: I want to extend the line of communication between those like Thoreau and Emerson to subsequent generations of people who will come after me. I want to be a literary and philosophical bridge linking the generations.
I feel that anytime you are given a gift of immeasurable value and worth you will someday want to give a gift of similar value and worth to others. It may not be to the person who gave you the gift--i.e., you may give the gift to someone else--but give it you will.
Why? Why do we feel so inclined to give such a gift? Why do I feel inclined to write and hope to bring some sense of meaning and significance, joy and relief, hope and possibility, direction and guidance to some fellow traveller searching for 'who knows what?'
I want to give because of the value. I value the act of communication through the written word. I value the realm of letters and signs. I value and appreciate that this is possible. And so because I value it so I deem it a worthy gift to give (though you may beg to differ).
What's The Problem Then?
The problem? Why do I feel something is not right about what I have been doing the past week or so--or maybe longer and it is now just starting to come through? Well, the problem for me is the lack of receptivity based upon the overwhelming volume of words made available on the Internet. There is just so damn much competition! There is just this overwhelming--almost inundating--regurgitation of signs and symbols that ... well... at times just wants to make me hurl!
The truth seems to me to be that one could binge and purge on so many words, signs, and symbols. And yet, in that act what is nourishing about ingesting, and then regurgitating so many communications from this, that, or the other corner of the globe? Where, in other words, can you discover the value--the value in communications! How can you discern what is worthy and nourishing and what is just more meaningless chatter from some sorry sap reflecting on his or her own subjectivity?
Are blogs supposed to be diaries? Are blogs any damn thing we want them to be? Are blogs valued... or valueless?
What, in other words, is the value of a word when there are so many god-damned words being propogated throughout the whole fruitful World Wide Web?
Do words lose their value? Do you cease to be struck anymore by the value of a story? Are you like some high-tech scanner that processes information at lightning speed? Do you find yourself discarding more information than you actually assimlate? Do you find yourself rushed and hurried? Do you find yourself missing out on the once immortal word that is now rendered all the more meaningless and superficial precisely because it is so pervasive?
Wasn't value once (and still is in some cases) the result of the rarity of an object or artifact? What does this mean for a world drowining in media and signs and symbols? Does it mean that the more we speak or write or share or talk or sign the more meaningless and insignificant all that speaking and writing and sharing and talking and signing becomes?
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