My wife and I have had a number of discussions about the impact of the written word for communications vs. other forms (video, audio, etc..) We’ve even discussed the supple nuances of writing media such as paper vs. electronic.
A professor of Maya history and language was helping create a Maya dictionary. One evening as he closed up his work in the mountains of Guatemala, he realized that he needed to descend to his base camp before it grew too dark. He would be hiking through a dangerous jungle known for, among other things, packs of wild dogs.
We both agree the written word is still one of the most effective forms of communication, able to convey amazing factual and emotional detail when conceived by an accomplished mind and hand.
As the professor hurried along an animal trail he stumbled upon a tiny Maya village. It consisted of a few huts surrounding a central courtyard. In front of one of the huts stood a bench, and sitting on the bench were the village elders. Rather than ask for directions (his pressing issue), he gracefully started the conversation with what is known as the Maya introduction ritual. With the Maya you can’t merely walk up to someone and ask, “What’s happening dude?” Instead, you must introduce yourself and all of your known ancestors along with what they did during their lives! After over an hour of ancestor talk, he finally was able to ask for directions down the mountain. By now it had grown so dark that he was quite worried about the wild dogs. The locals assured him that his journey would be safe. One of them would accompany him to his destination.
We tend to disagree on how much of a role physical media adds to the experience. She feels strongly the tactile feel of books or letters strengthens the bond between the writer, the story and the reader, encapsulating thoughts and emotions that can nearly be touched. I agree there’s a difference and I value owning a good book, but I believe it is learned– an influence of our environment– what we grew up with.
Children of the Internet and computer age may not grow up to feel the same about books and written letters as we do. They may be learning to rely on other forms of media.
Before the professor could continue his hike down the mountain, one of the villagers asked him what had taken him up the mountain in the first place. The professor explained that he had been compiling a dictionary of their language. His answer took them by surprise. They had known that the Spanish language could be written, but it had never occurred to them that their own language could ever be captured on stone or paper. The professor assured them that not only could it be, but that their language had been written centuries earlier but lost. In fact, the land around them was replete with ancient temples that contained a great deal of early Maya writing.
Writing is not always easy; it’s a skill that takes practice to master. There is not the emphasis on it as there once was and because it’s time consuming we’ve tried to use technology to improve the process. Today we quickly reply to dozens of emails, have chats using shorthand codes to reduce the number of words, and cut and paste our way to completed documents, all while listening to the latest hits on our iPod or watching TV or a video out of the corner of our eye.
“What did our ancestors have to say to us?” one of the elders asked. The professor just happened to be carrying the translation of one of the more famous passages (to archeologists, not to the Maya), so he pulled it out and read it to them. The villagers sat in silence, eagerly listening. Tears ran down their cheeks as they heard for the first time the wisdom of their much-honored predecessors. “Are there other words? Where can we find all of what they had to say to us?”
We are surrounded by text, similar to the often quoted, ” water everywhere but not a drop to drink.” Bombarded with spam and endless advertisements, we’ve leaned to skim, hover without touching, seeing but not taking the time to comprehend–all the necessities for survival in our modern information world.
As the professor carefully explained that scholars were working on translating other writings, one of the elders asked, “Could I speak aloud to you and then you write down my wordsâfor my children?” “Yes,” the others chimed in, “Could you write our words?”
The professor didn’t make it down the mountain that evening. Instead, he played the role of scribe as eager fathers composed words of wisdom to their offspring. Finally, the chief invited him into his hut where he privately composed a document for his only son. He had already lost seven children, and now his only remaining son had been struck with tuberculosis. He wanted to write a message to him before he was inevitably taken by the disease. He poured his heart out as the professor sat and wrote.
I can’t tell you the last time I took pen to paper and wrote a letter where I’ve carefully selected my words and phrases to express my thoughts and feelings. I know I use to write, but it’s been many years.
My writing is now channeled through this vehicle I call Meandering Passage. It’s often not very good, or perhaps original, and the media lacks the transcending enchantment of ink, paper and binding, but I still feel the power of the words I write.
I must confess to giving in to the temptation of quantity over quality on occasion and for those times I apologize to you the readers.
The story in this post was borrowed from a article by Kerry Patterson titled “The Power of the Pen” in the “Kerrying On” column of Crucial Skills newsletter and is by all accounts true. The professor is Mr. Patterson’s neighbor. Mr. Patterson concludes that he is coming to understand the value of the written word and that he believes it still plays an important role in our lives.
I firmly agree with him. Even in this age of digital video and audio, writing can still be an amazingly effective method of communication. It can also serve as a means of self expression.
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