I love to email- no stamps, no waiting, just instant communication.
Talking on the phone- talking everywhere, talking all the time.
I keep in touch right away with anyone, anytime, from anywhere in the world. Recently I was texting back and forth to two different friends at the same time while one was in China and the other was is England. Fast. Quick. Brief. Fun.
Real, sweet, intimate communication… almost never.
I have a file that I take out every once in a while of letters from my parents, notes from kids, and cards from friends. I love reading and rereading them. I feel in touch with those who have passed and times that were golden. Recently it struck, there are no new missives.
Of course, there is nothing new we don’t write letters anymore.
All this time spent “reaching out”, giving a brief “shout to”, catching up, letting you know, is coming up stale on the scale of making real connections. I am spending too much time yakking and texting that I have been missing out on something precious.
I remember when going to the mailbox meant more than bills, catalogues and circulars. It meant the possibility of a letter. Those letters brief or long held the voices and thoughts of someone far away. The voices were locked onto stationary that could be held and read and read over decades.
Why don’t we write each other anymore?
Letter writing can’t be deleted. What I put down is more intimate and lasting. It bears my handwriting, as personal as my fingerprint. A letter is a loving, whisper for someone else’s ears only, not the cold, sterile, black and white shout out of an email. A letter touches my heart because it took the time to script, to address, to stamp, and to put into a post box. A text is thought to fingers- little effort. The love spent on a letter means so much more than the XOXOX or an emoji passed from one phone to the next.
Don’t get me wrong there is a time and place for the frequency of the current methods… like every day, all day.
However, while family and friends get an immediate sort of closeness, they are missing the very personal me of a letter. The black and white fonted mailings could be from anyone, at any time and are easily wiped away and forgotten.
So, I’ve been writing, stamping, and mailing again. Not long letters, but short penned notes and cards. I giving more of me to them and it feels good.
How do you really connect?