Thursday, August 25, 2011

Cyber Stew

It has been brought to my attention, that there are actual humans out there reading this blog! I’ve not written since November 2010! With dizzying schedules, the constant attention to website management, and now the more prominent social networks… booking, scheduling, family communications, accounting and other ‘online’ endeavors have kept me everywhere but ‘blogging’.
I really didn’t think there to be but one or two who even read here, but a recent post from a ‘follower’ made me dig deeper… after some toggling and clicking, I see that I actually have had readers from all over the world! I wonder how they find this tiny place, this tiny voice. I think on how I would ever find a mysterious writer living a small life and take the time to read what that human had to say? Maybe I need to spend more time surfing the perimeters of cyber existence to see what’s out there? Perhaps there is a ‘word soul mate’ just waiting to be read? Maybe there is a new friendship or connection that could alter two states of mind and thought? This invisible world of internet means you don’t have to see the face of ideas, or hear the voice of dreamers, you can just click, un-click, re-click, zip from China (I have several readers there), to Russia (more there), Belarus (hello to Belarus readers), and other exotic countries and landscapes that I can only dare to dream about…
Currently there is enough static in the world. So much white noise, hell raising, judging, disrespect, religion flaunting, flag saluting, pundit barking, news altering, deception. How does one’s whisper alter the conscience of humanity? How does one song, one note of music, one dragonfly wing flutter make the world different? I’m too small to even contemplate such thoughts.
I love and hate this internet world. I yearn for a hug from those who sit staring at a screen typing symbols to me: I want to feel your heartbeat against my chest. I crave the inflection of voice, the blink of eyelids, the shifting in chair, of a human being telling a story: I want to ‘be’ in your story. I pull from memory the heaving chest of one who is laughing heartily in front of me, not typing ‘lol’: milk spewing through nostrils would bring great joy! I want to collect the salt tears of the one who, one letter at a time gives me news of pain from their fingers to my eyes: here… I’m wearing my old ‘round the house shirt’ and it awaits a damp face pressed against it. I hate seeing your digital photos, I want to breathe the same air with you, stale or fresh…
And yet… without this internet… how would I know you were there at all? Someone in Belarus wouldn’t even know I exist. Weeks or months, if at all… would be the wait to hear from my great friends in Scotland as they swim in competitions, play bagpipes for ceilidh’s, spin wool for weaving, sing songs. Photos of children and grandchildren would be delayed instead of instant. The news of spirits coming and going, of joys and sorrows, work and rest, might not reach this heart until it was too late to respond... Too late... Too late…
So I celebrate those who participate with this modern carrier pigeon. I’m grateful for the invention, the advantage of having the technology, and the irritation of continually learning the skills to use it. It steals my life one day, but gives me everyone’s life the next day…
Thank you to those who are reading here. Those who remember to drop me a note, who send photos and messages via Facebook, our regular email, and even those who just read silently… we are all in this cyber stew together… but don’t forget to hug those in the room with you, this virtual world is not the human reality… we need each other in flesh and bone…

A poem: Mining

I wanted to make people cry
With a song
Kenny wanted to make people laugh
But laughter is an easy response
Even when it is not appropriate
Laughter can arrive

A sigh and a tear
Now that is buried deeper
And the skill
To bring them to the surface
Requires patience and darkness

Crawling down the shaft of possibility
Again and again
Thru the black damp
And the white damp
Of emotions

No matter what dredges up
In the slag
Keep digging the seam
Fault lines and fissures
Will bring you to the core

Only when you can mine
The sigh and the tear
For yourself
Can you mine it in others

I wanted to make people cry
With a song

Mining terms: Black damp: carbon dioxide White damp: carbon monoxide