I'm working slowly and steadily on a new book, Spirituality in the Smartphone Age. The scope of the book is still taking shape, but I'm currently ruminating on everything from selfie culture (it's not as terrible as you think) to cultivating a sense of mystery at a time when everything can be Googled. One of the joys of working on a new project is having people send pertinent articles and books my way. My friend Barbara has been one of the most faithful sharers of information with me. I can't count the number of tidbits she's sent my way over the past year or so. But she's been sharing them not through emailed links, or texts, or even phone calls saying, "Be sure to catch the article in the Wall Street Journal about how historians are having a hard time doing their work in the age of email."
She's been sending me clippings. Actual, cut-from-the newspaper clippings.
Every week or two I'll get a letter in the mail with Barbara's efficient script on the envelope, and a folded-up geometric wonder of newsprint or glossy magazine paper inside, often paper-clipped to a short note containing a personal update.
Clipping, note, envelope, stamp, address.
I love it.
Regular readers of this blog know that I am a power user of Evernote. I scan much of the kids' artwork to cut down on clutter. My iPhone is my personal assistant and more. But there's something so fantastic about holding these physical pieces of paper in my hands. I feel cared for. Barbara's clippings, now a good-sized pile, are a tangible reminder that this project matters to someone. An emailed link, while greatly appreciated, doesn't convey that nearly as much.
Let me spoil the ending of my book for you. I will likely land somewhere in the vicinity of "Our digital/technological culture is neither good nor bad in itself. What we need is thoughtfulness about when, where, and how much," and hopefully offer some wisdom and tips in that discernment.
But somewhere in there, I'll be singing the praises of clippings.
Image is from one of Barbara's clippings, referencing Jonathan Haidt's book The Righteous Mind: "people are more likely to be moved by information that challenges their prejudices if they're prevented from responding to it straightaway and it has time to sink in, to steep. Is there enough such time these days?"