Part of my efforts to be more mindful and present, while returning to more primal roots of writing, has been to write out these blog posts (and project work – shh!) by hand in a lined notebook. I’m already on my fourth or fifth volume of nonsense since last fall. Writing things out by hand was the best learning trick of high school, when I had to remember anything historical or scientific. It serves a different purpose now – it connects me to words more directly, like they are actually a part of me now left on paper for as long as paper will last.
The act of hand-writing forces me to slow down, as it takes longer than typing or dictating. Perhaps more importantly for my situation, where there is no one to edit or rein in the hubris, I find the re-typing of these entries from notebook to blog back-end a helpful opportunity to refine and improve what rough stuff initially pours out onto the page.
Reconnecting to a physical, real world endeavor, and a chance to revive my cursive (a dying art) are small antidotes to the social media disconnection plaguing so many of us. Writing things out at a cafe while sipping herbal tea and munching on a cookie or muffin is another way to connect – whether it’s in small talk with the barista or accepting a compliment on a coat from a fellow customer or overhearing conversation of tables nearby; humanity is all around us, providing little time to be truly alone.
And sometimes there is no lonelier place than a crowded cafe.
The infuriating fickleness of being human.
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