Everything that has been excluded

Christmas cards
Christmas cards going out, from years past.

I’m always thinking about reading, but I have been thinking about it in a more targeted way lately, as it pertains to my job as a content strategist/designer.

In Journey Group’s publication on Medium, I decided to make the case for preserving deep reading online: Digital Readers Deserve Better.

. . .

My appetite for fiction waxes and wanes throughout the year. I typically keep a steady diet of 50% fiction/50% nonfiction, but lately, I have found it difficult to concentrate on novels and short stories. I am very slowly working my way through Tolstoy’s first novels — Childhood, Boyhood, and Youth — composed as episodic, unconnected vignettes, and even though I adore him, I am not terribly interested. Nonfiction, however, has been holding my attention with great force.

As I make my top 10 lists of the best things I read in 2018, this preference for nonfiction bears out; I read a ton of excellent nonfiction this year, apparently, and just a handful of excellent fiction. Lists to come soon.

. . .

“The most effective stories are those that resemble ramparts from which one can gaze out at everything that has been excluded.”

— Elena Ferrante, Frantumaglia

. . .

With cold nights and cold mornings, I have a passion for lighting candles during this season. I now have candles strewn about in every conceivable living space in our home: kitchen counter, coffee table, bedroom, dining table, etc. It is a small thing, but it makes winter bearable.

Closing side note: If you, like me, are nurturing a passion for candles, I have a recent discovery to share with you: This excellent and very affordable beekeeper in Michigan who makes beautiful 100% pure beeswax candles. I just got my first order of taper candles from him, and I am extremely pleased.

Merry Christmas, all! Hope your season is merry and bright.

Slow thinking

Morning calligraphy practice + a donut + Yorkshire Gold tea.

Since the 2016 presidential election, the level of public discourse among Americans has tanked. We’ve never been particularly intelligent expressing ourselves online, but our capacity for thinking deeply seems to have disappeared entirely from public forums.

Both sides of the political spectrum are equally guilty of this; the left is no wiser than the right. Conservatives and liberals live in deeply entrenched extremes: You are either a good guy or a bad guy; the issue is always black or white. There is no middle ground. We have lost the ability to even ponder nuance, to give gray space even a second’s consideration.

Most forms of social media, especially Twitter and Facebook, encourage us to think shallowly. We are urged to publish every thought as soon as it crosses our minds. No hesitation. No research. No contemplation. There’s this horrible pressure for “public figures” or talking heads or anyone who has a modest “following” to have immediate reactions to every item in the 24/7 news cycle. And they capitulate. The rest of us follow suit: Nearly 60% of us share articles without even reading them. This is no way to process information. We’re bad at it. We can’t think well in such a reactionary environment (of which our president is a perfect example/consequence).

I find all of this troubling, and I also believe this loss of deep thinking is intimately connected to the “continuous partial attention” that we’ve all been trained in since we became addicted to screens a decade or more ago.

We’re so incapable of giving our full attention to anything that we miss everything. We’ve never been good at multitasking, even though we all like to secretly believe that we are. We live in a state of constant distraction, eagerly seeking more distractions as we slog through the day. These are not habits that lead to thinking well.

In light of these trends, I feel increasingly convicted of the need for slowness in my everyday life. This is why I’ve stopped using social media. It’s helped a great deal in reducing distractions and in the amount of time I use my phone, but I am still tempted by other things: email, the feed of news articles, mindless internet surfing that I tell myself is “research” for something.

I sense a need to overhaul my expectations of screens. The internet is useful; I approach it as a utility in my daily life. I work on it, I find information, I buy things. But I need to stop thinking of it as entertainment or as a salve for loneliness or lassitude. The people I know who think well and deeply seem to also approach the internet in this way. They’re not news junkies; they consume content deliberately and slowly, and most of it is offline. They’re not dependent on their phones for distraction or validation. I want to learn more from them and study their ways.

I don’t think I’ve ever been a deep thinker, but I am realizing this growing gulf between my desire to think well and my ability to actually attempt it. This is a small new year’s resolution to keep turning away from internet frippery and to find the useful ways to interact with screens without killing my capacity for thought.

Meanwhile, I’ll just be waiting here, trying to figure out what all this means for my inner life (and trying not to think about when the next season of Terrace House airs).


Loose thinking

Sunday afternoon

The upside of a quiet weekend is ample time to think, the kind of loose thinking that occurs when one is being profoundly unproductive, when one should be studying for an investment exam but is instead looking up rough collies for adoption and reading a funny but poorly structured feminist memoir. The kind of thinking that occurs in those spaces.

I have been thinking about: how the Old Testament has become more difficult to me over time; Georgia the puppy; the anecdotal mystery of why you always see so many nurses out smoking; the appalling state of reproductive rights for women in the world, not to mention the United States; my siblings; other people’s siblings; more heartbroken, beloved friends; Anne Sexton; scars; the appalling state of the world in which teens are getting the majority of their sex education from porn; fonts; the virtue of getting to stay and not die.

And then I look up and see Guion, playing guitar, writing new songs, and I realize that we are inhabiting wholly different spaces. His mind is fully engaged, 5,000 miles away from mine, but we can stop, make eye contact, and then there we are, together; we meet each other again.

Distracting thoughts

Thoughts to distract me from tinnitus, which I recently contracted and recently discovered may have to live with for the rest of my maddening, whooshing life:

  • Nail polish! Nail polish is pretty!
  • Christmas is almost here. I can go home and sloppily wrap some more presents.
  • Reading W.H. Auden’s poetry is like turning on a different switch in one’s brain.
  • In the scale of chronic health problems, this one is minor. Right.
  • The Joy Luck Club.
  • I can get a dog in five months.
  • It didn’t snow last night and I am relieved.
  • We’re going caroling and bar hopping tomorrow night!
  • Did I mention Christmas?
  • What style of writing + color of pen to use for our Christmas cards, which are coming soon.
  • Can you blame everything on birth control?
  • The relationship between your heartbeat and the ocean.
  • Learning how to run for a long time.
  • Running with a dog.
  • Coming home to a dog.

… In the end, it all just disintegrates into dog thoughts.

Things I should know

I’ve been thinking about gaps in my education lately. These are some things I should know more about:

  • The war in Afghanistan.
  • Science.
  • Financial markets and the principles of basic investing.
  • Japanese grammar.
  • The human body.
  • China.
  • Church history.
  • Divisions and functions of the branches of the U.S. military.
  • How to make things grow.
  • Russian history.
  • Fertility.
  • Cholesterol.
  • The Federal Reserve.
  • How to fix a spare tire.
  • Insurance policies.
  • How to read music.
  • Global warming.
  • Michele Bachmann.
  • Interest rates.
  • Calculus (and by “know more about” I mean “learn anything about”).
  • Currency exchange rates.
  • How to drive a manual transmission.
  • The Supreme Court.
  • Canadian provinces.
  • Latin and Greek roots.
  • The difference between Central and Latin America.

The reason why I don’t know more about these things is because, I suppose, I don’t find them fundamentally interesting. Even though I feel like I should. Do you know about these things? If so, enlighten me. I want to know.