Written on Water...a thank you
Sep. 24th, 2005 08:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatI was going to keep this private, but after reading some of the responses to a public posting I made, I want to share it.
Rahael, I wanted to thank you for showing me something this weekend. Last night I wrote a post hunting an answer and you showed that answer to me this morning. My question was a simple one - what would happen if I were to delete my livejournal, would anyone notice? You answered my question with a simple but effective demonstration - simply by writing what I found to be a lovely response then promptly deleting it. When I came to lj this morning hoping to respond to you, I was astonished to see your post was gone. Wait! Wait! I thought, why is it gone? Was it my imagination? Why did she delete it? That's when it slowly hit me...exactly what you did, whether it was intentional or not.
You are right of course, our words and our actions are not written on the wind, they rather sink inside the reader as opposed to being easily brushed away. They are in effect written in water and water, does sink into cloth, into skin, it is absorbed, it's not like wind. We remember and are influenced by the oddest things. We aren't computers where data can be extracted easily with the flip of a button or uninstalled or cleaned. Or a chalkboard where letters can be erased. Or a screen where words can be deleted. A handshake, a touch, a word, a phrase, a comment, can touch someone and remain imprinted years after the event. It will also influence other things about that person - actions, responses, views. They are changed. Just like my Teddy Bear was changed the moment I touched it. And I'd forgotten or somehow overlooked that.
There's an odd contradiction going on - we worry about not being remembered, that our words are written on water, easily forgotten, forgetting that water is absorbed not something that we can brush off. We fear that we'll leave nothing behind, nothing substantial at any rate - such as a child or a published novel that will never go out of print, or a loved one pining for us, yet by the same token and in contradictory fashion, we worry our words will be remembered, will sink in, and we want to erase them from other's memories as well as our own. (I wish for instance that so and so never saw that horrible first novel I wrote or that book never got into print or that movie wasn't made, how many actors regret their first roles, roles they think are in such bargain basement films, stuck on studio shelves, that will never make the light of day? I read an interview recently with Ben Kingsely commenting on the movie The Sound of Thunder - a real stinker that he'd made over 5 years ago, it sat unnoticed on studio shelves, he'd literally forgotten about it - having made so many films in between. Then up it pops again, being widely distributed. And you can feel him cringing.) There are so many posts I've deleted or wish I had never posted, yet did. Posts I've been tempted to go back and delete or posts that I have, only to receive a response to them way after the fact, thinking wait, wait, how did that happen, I deleted it? What we can't know or even control is how someone else will reacte to what we write or the effect our words and actions have, no matter how small they may seem to us, on someone else. Deleting them after the fact does not erase or lessen their impact. If you decide to delete a post or journal online, you can't delete it from the memories of all that saw it. You can't erase what they saw. Living in my head, I forget that if I can remember things about others, why can't they remember things about me? I remember ages ago a favorite teacher chiding me when I was astonished she still remembered me, but you had so many students, I said. Yes, she answered, but you've had so many teachers, if you can remember me fondly, why do you assume I don't remember you?
You demonstrated this fact to me today. If anything you showed how deleting something may actually emphasize it's impact as opposed to erase it on those who've seen it.
You are right, words like memories are not written on the wind, they can't be blown away like dust at a funeral.
They rather sink in. They are absorbed like water. They are written on water.
Thank you for helping me see it. And making me realize that I must be careful how and what I write, what I send, for I know not how or what the effect may be.
Rahael, I wanted to thank you for showing me something this weekend. Last night I wrote a post hunting an answer and you showed that answer to me this morning. My question was a simple one - what would happen if I were to delete my livejournal, would anyone notice? You answered my question with a simple but effective demonstration - simply by writing what I found to be a lovely response then promptly deleting it. When I came to lj this morning hoping to respond to you, I was astonished to see your post was gone. Wait! Wait! I thought, why is it gone? Was it my imagination? Why did she delete it? That's when it slowly hit me...exactly what you did, whether it was intentional or not.
You are right of course, our words and our actions are not written on the wind, they rather sink inside the reader as opposed to being easily brushed away. They are in effect written in water and water, does sink into cloth, into skin, it is absorbed, it's not like wind. We remember and are influenced by the oddest things. We aren't computers where data can be extracted easily with the flip of a button or uninstalled or cleaned. Or a chalkboard where letters can be erased. Or a screen where words can be deleted. A handshake, a touch, a word, a phrase, a comment, can touch someone and remain imprinted years after the event. It will also influence other things about that person - actions, responses, views. They are changed. Just like my Teddy Bear was changed the moment I touched it. And I'd forgotten or somehow overlooked that.
There's an odd contradiction going on - we worry about not being remembered, that our words are written on water, easily forgotten, forgetting that water is absorbed not something that we can brush off. We fear that we'll leave nothing behind, nothing substantial at any rate - such as a child or a published novel that will never go out of print, or a loved one pining for us, yet by the same token and in contradictory fashion, we worry our words will be remembered, will sink in, and we want to erase them from other's memories as well as our own. (I wish for instance that so and so never saw that horrible first novel I wrote or that book never got into print or that movie wasn't made, how many actors regret their first roles, roles they think are in such bargain basement films, stuck on studio shelves, that will never make the light of day? I read an interview recently with Ben Kingsely commenting on the movie The Sound of Thunder - a real stinker that he'd made over 5 years ago, it sat unnoticed on studio shelves, he'd literally forgotten about it - having made so many films in between. Then up it pops again, being widely distributed. And you can feel him cringing.) There are so many posts I've deleted or wish I had never posted, yet did. Posts I've been tempted to go back and delete or posts that I have, only to receive a response to them way after the fact, thinking wait, wait, how did that happen, I deleted it? What we can't know or even control is how someone else will reacte to what we write or the effect our words and actions have, no matter how small they may seem to us, on someone else. Deleting them after the fact does not erase or lessen their impact. If you decide to delete a post or journal online, you can't delete it from the memories of all that saw it. You can't erase what they saw. Living in my head, I forget that if I can remember things about others, why can't they remember things about me? I remember ages ago a favorite teacher chiding me when I was astonished she still remembered me, but you had so many students, I said. Yes, she answered, but you've had so many teachers, if you can remember me fondly, why do you assume I don't remember you?
You demonstrated this fact to me today. If anything you showed how deleting something may actually emphasize it's impact as opposed to erase it on those who've seen it.
You are right, words like memories are not written on the wind, they can't be blown away like dust at a funeral.
They rather sink in. They are absorbed like water. They are written on water.
Thank you for helping me see it. And making me realize that I must be careful how and what I write, what I send, for I know not how or what the effect may be.
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 04:50 pm (UTC)" Whilst I was writing, I did think that what hurts us ultimately is not blankness or forgetting but the memories. Because that is our sum experience of other people. That is what love and vulnerability is based on. Pain and loss. We wouldn't fear being forgotten if we didn't have attachments to other people - it would simply be a matter of indifference.
I think you are right here. It is the memories. Or rather the memories of what we've had that is now lost to us. Memory is a funny thing, it blurs with time, becomes embellished. What we remember is not necessarily what actually occurred, but to us, it is. And we fear losing it. Because memories are all we have. They are all that we can take with us when we leave this life, assuming we can take even that.And it is memories we leave behind.
I think that's the biggest fear - what memories will I leave behind?
What memories will I make?
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-25 12:08 am (UTC)Exactly. What we have here is a form of communicating that goes beyond so much of what we have known before. Writing a letter isn't communication if we don't send it..or at least it's only communicating with oneself. Pressing the enter button here, we open the envelope, and lay out our thoughts for anyone who comes along to read. There have been posts written by people I only came upon in passing, posts that affected me quite profoundly. Once those words are out there, they take on a life of their own, and we no longer have ownership of them. I find that fascinating, and quite exciting, somehow.
I'm glad that what Rah said to you helped, S'kat. I found her words moving, and insightful.