Yesterday I took up writing, sharing my first blog post in a very long time, and openly challenging myself to do a 365-day streak of writing a short memory, a simple reflection garnished with a photo.
Writing makes my heart beat, makes my thoughts clear, and makes me take things more seriously, but first of all, it makes me think in a more deep and structured way. This means it makes me smarter. Obviously, not just me; this probably holds true for most people writing.
And then think about this: There was a time in human history when writing was not a thing and when nobody could read and write. No books.
No books!
Imagine a life without books. Without poems. No Shakespeare, no candy crime novel for a lazy Sunday, no postcards, letters, no Holy Bible. No diaries, journaling, scribbling of thoughts, clearing of the mind, no 300 pages of arguments leading up to epiphanies.
I don’t want to imagine a life like that, a world like that. I want to read; I want to write. Like I did yesterday, sharing my thoughts and absorbing the thoughts and emotions of others. Also, those not in close proximity.
When we travel, I describe our experiences and read about the places we visit. When I choose a novel, I choose one from the country (preferably area) we are located in (writer or plot, does not matter). It makes my life more meaningful, stronger, and clearer.
I am grateful for many elements of the modern day. I am grateful for highways and chemotherapy and the internet and supermarkets. But one technology seriously a foundation for my day-to-day happiness is the invention of the written language. Where would I be without it?
And where would you be?
(PS. The photo is of my laptop with a cortado with almond milk when I sat down to write)
Cecilie Conrad
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