600 Million Voices
According to online Sources, the number of people regularly writing blogs, cyber articles, posts, essays or whatever one wants to call them is around 600 million. A cacophony of voices all clamoring for attention. “READ ME”, they shout, “I know the answers and I will guide you through the maze of life’s uncertainties.” “I will tell you how to lose weight or find happiness or come closer to God or understand the secrets of the universe.” There are also blogs about blogging, about how to communicate and why YOU should start our own blog. If you can imagine a subject, no matter how obscure, someone is preparing an essay about it at this very moment.
So what do those of us who type our thoughts onto a keyboard want? Are we attempting to convince our readers that we have insights into the elusive nature of life or are we just trying to prove to ourselves that our thoughts are worthy of a friend or stranger’s time, perhaps expanding their own perspective? To me, this a complicated and almost unanswerable question. The motivations of the 600 million vary vastly (some are looking for recognition while others might see it as an opportunity to make money). And yet for all of us who write, the bottom line is to communicate, to place word after word on a page and have someone nod their head in agreement as they make their way through our sentences.
No matter what the surface intent of writing might be, the basic underlying goal of each and every one of us is to connect with others of our species, to touch someone else’s psyche and to have them react in what we hope will be a positive manner. Our words act as flags at the end of a stick that we wave, calling out to anyone who will listen. We are all saying, “I am here. Please don’t turn away!”
Well-meaning friends will send me links to opinions they believe will give me insights, most of which I read and appreciate, at least to a degree. But ultimately, will the thoughts of others impact my life, will they help me navigate my brief moment of time? I believe the answer is that a few will actually offer some guideposts that could help, but others will only be distractions, entertaining but not particularly informative. For me, the pieces of writing that are of the most value are ones that begin a dialogue, opening up an interactive conversation where I can engage with the author and explore, expand, and alter my own opinions. This is where reading the musings of other people becomes not just enlightening, but quite exciting as well.
Unfortunately, for me and for others who want that kind of interaction, most online essays are pontifications. Bloated self-aggrandizing essays where the writer has decided that they have the answers and that you, the reader, must swallow the concepts whole and not question their offering. This is boring. Most of us will read a passage in a magazine or online and wonder to ourselves if something is true, or if the author has missed a salient point. I cannot count the number of times I’ve added a comment or question to the end of an online blog yet rarely receive a response. Many of the authors seem to only want agreement.
This is where I personally go off script. More than anything I long for others to either add to my thoughts or completely disagree (in a civil manner). My own personal goal in writing, as I state on the home page of The Caged Mind, is to not just write down my point of view, but to stimulate a conversation. Without a salient conversation with the people who read my words, I will not learn anything, and my fundamental intent is to grow. Growth and better understanding of both ourselves and our environment do not take place in a vacuum. One cannot learn from just offering a personal opinion, there must be give and take.
I remember reading about the Vienna Circle in Janna Levin’s remarkable novel, A Madman Dreams of Turing Machines. In her book, Levin offers a glimpse into 1920s Vienna where philosophers and scientists would gather in classrooms and in the backrooms of dark coffeehouses to discuss their views of the world, sometimes pounding the table and shouting, but always listening and exchanging ideas. I often wonder about this kind of gathering, doubting my own ability to add a perspective, but at least soaking up the vociferous dialogue to garner a greater understanding of our place in life.
The hypocrisy of my desire is illustrated by the fact that I have been invited to participate in philosophical group discussions but I always defer attendance to others. I’m never quite certain if it is my own arrogance (always a possibility) or it might be out of fear that I would either not say anything, say the wrong thing, or dominate the conversation with my own version of pontification. Or perhaps I’m just anti-social.
And so I write. I write these weekly offerings and hope for engagement. I talk to a friend or two about the world, exploring whether we can move past our current bottleneck of ignorance. Then I wait for answers, though I’m not certain what the questions might be. Guess we’ll find out (or not).
Did you do the colorful illustration? It’s great! As is the title of this issue.
The “packaging” of this issue makes it a must-read.
(Packaging is art, too.)
Hello Verna
Thank you for suggesting that I might have the artistic talent to create that graphic. Alas, no. It’s from Adobe stock. And thank you for reading my essays. I’m trying to keep my head above water on everything that’s happening in the world.
Tobin, we are all madmen. So, do not hesitate to be present, since that is the only necessary requirement for participation. One never knows when one’s mind will synchronize with a mind of someone else, – then you will have a point (a post) to offer for the critique and response of others.
We are creating the future, like it or not. Time means change, and this is our time, yours, to offer a resounding “yes” to a possible future.
What do 600 million voices have to do with your voice? Time is flux, the scrum of many voices. Every voice matters, effects a future.
Jerry,
Thanks for your thoughts on this week’s issue. My skeptical side (which is probably the majority of my brain) whispers that my opinions and observations have an extraordinarily limited reach. You and a handful of others do read what I have to say, but I truly do not know if the words I place end to end increase the general understanding of the problems we face or are they more for my own self-aggrandizement? Both of our offerings garner responses (mostly between the two of us) but I do know there are others who will occasionally weigh in and even when they don’t, friends will, at times, express their appreciation of what I write. These bits and piece of communication help me keep going, encouraging me to write one more and one more, but to be honest, it is a schlogg.
I read your blog as much as I can and find it interesting but as you know since I’m a classic ostrich, I often don’t have an opinion. As I think I’ve told you when I was working in publishing, one of my jobs was to produce the standard rejection letter where all I had to do was insert a name on the letter and an address on the envelope. So many books passed through my desk – I would say almost 90% were older men who were writing about their views on the world or how to save it. But I have to say I admired their chutzpah and that they were out there on their soapbox spreading their word. Why not? We are only on this planet a short while – why not shout as loud as we can while we’re here.
Jenny – Thank you for reading these when you can. Your stories about the little old guys who believe they have something important to say is both sad and quite poignant. Of course I am one of those “little old guys” just as our father was. He believed that what he observed in his life was of preeminent importance, just as I believe my perspectives might open doors to greater understanding for others and for myself. Ultimately the vast majority of us are delusional. We have our eyes fixed upon the last few years of life and want to warn our fellow humans of the pitfalls we have encountered over decades of walking this Earth, all while hoping our words can make a difference. I don’t mean to speak for all 600 million of us, but I do think that the futility of this endeavor is clear in the back of most of our minds. But even being pragmatic, we somehow “feel” that we’ll be able to break through the constant chatter to be heard. And so I keep writing.
I think what you’re doing is fantastic. You’re putting into words your frustration and I think it’s a wonderful release valve. We all want to leave this earth with some sort of mark that we were here. For me, it’s my grandchildren. And I’m grateful for that.