A tiny slice of a possible future reality, here.
I struggle agreeing that "The printed page is giving way to the networked screen.", per the site's mission statement.
Then again . . . .
What is a book, now?
Has it been fading to history? The age of the printing press will have only ruled for five or so centuries?
And before the book, it was elite hand-written manuscripts. Those wonderful royals, and scholars, and monks. Consider the era of the early Bible - those manuscripts were so special and in the hands of so few. So sad the loss to a way a life with the coming of the press. Pardon the pun intended.
What becomes of the perfect civilization they (we) have invented?
Before the written words, there was language. Before that, there were only simple symbols and sounds. For hundreds of thousands of years, the way these animals we are could make do - and make do we did - was by asserting our clever ways, sharing ideas, adapting for millenia and using the basics at hand: sticks and stones, rock tablets, pictures, cave drawings, art, dances, songs, stories and grunts. Communication perfection. So sad for the sudden loss of status for the artists and storytellers when the change set in to finally culture us with words and grammer. Another loss of another way of life. And the horror! we surely felt with the next change - refinement from the printed books. Now the gutwrenching information age changes are upon us, with the final empowerment of universal knowledge. More barriers come crashing down.
Broadband for all! (Freedom for all? Equal justice for all?)
We will change. In huge ways, like we always did before. Changes bring change; it's not that hard to understand. Or is it?
So of course we should we embrace the change, as we inevitably will, right? Or, shouldn't we fight for a while longer to go back to (stay in?) the stone age?
The answer: Forgive the progress, but never forget.
I love the past and I love the future. And so do you.
A good book in the right room is forever. It's something to read and hold, to smell the age of the pages, to see the dancing and the faces of the characters in your imagination. The warm fire is crackling and lightening the words. You flow in the glow and remember. (But surfing the net and drowning in the data is nearing nirvana.)
Another warm image: a vinyl record album, with it's wonderful cover and inner sleeves - some with lyrics you can actually read without help from Walgreens. (But downloading the latest song is pretty good too - better even: I can color laser print the album art to frame for my music room. Never done it, actually, but I could.)
All precious memories, before the times of changes. Those singers and storytellers and writers. I love them still. And sticks and stones, and dance, and art, and I always love to grunt.
Now as we get dragged through yet another time of change, in our inexorable march to greater cultural sophistication, technological mastery and magically coordinated cooperation (Adam Smith's invisible hand and our collective brain), we will decide to take those single steps on our longest journey, sometimes blind and bloated and bleating all the way. We post the words to our little pages during our short stay - always staying within the natural narrative of the story of humanity. We have always done so, and we are always glad we did. We move forward. It's who we are.
Some say - but it's another long story for another long day - that we are all marching toward the singularity, and soon. Maybe.
What I know is that ideas grow and then live forever. The basics we use in our own age are special to us. They will be treasured, even if they no longer lead the way, even if we let them fade away. What has been lasting is humanity.
But still, our ways will always flow, and ebb, and stop or grow. We build on what was past, and make it better. Deep down in our genes and in flowing through our memes, we appreciate that. We know; we are proud of the civilization we are inventing. And we smile at our pictures of the past. Tonight, I'll have happy dreams of how my child self stayed up too late with E.B. White. After I post this on my blog. Weird.
Oh, the knowledge and memories that we enjoyed, and that our progeny will treasure their way during their times.
Books and songs and all our things. They just keep changing. We are born and we die and we each witness a small slice of reality - only a page from the human story. Over the long term, haven't these changes been for the better? After all, we are the best we can be.
Then again . . . .
What is a book, now?
Has it been fading to history? The age of the printing press will have only ruled for five or so centuries?
And before the book, it was elite hand-written manuscripts. Those wonderful royals, and scholars, and monks. Consider the era of the early Bible - those manuscripts were so special and in the hands of so few. So sad the loss to a way a life with the coming of the press. Pardon the pun intended.
What becomes of the perfect civilization they (we) have invented?
Before the written words, there was language. Before that, there were only simple symbols and sounds. For hundreds of thousands of years, the way these animals we are could make do - and make do we did - was by asserting our clever ways, sharing ideas, adapting for millenia and using the basics at hand: sticks and stones, rock tablets, pictures, cave drawings, art, dances, songs, stories and grunts. Communication perfection. So sad for the sudden loss of status for the artists and storytellers when the change set in to finally culture us with words and grammer. Another loss of another way of life. And the horror! we surely felt with the next change - refinement from the printed books. Now the gutwrenching information age changes are upon us, with the final empowerment of universal knowledge. More barriers come crashing down.
Broadband for all! (Freedom for all? Equal justice for all?)
We will change. In huge ways, like we always did before. Changes bring change; it's not that hard to understand. Or is it?
So of course we should we embrace the change, as we inevitably will, right? Or, shouldn't we fight for a while longer to go back to (stay in?) the stone age?
The answer: Forgive the progress, but never forget.
I love the past and I love the future. And so do you.
A good book in the right room is forever. It's something to read and hold, to smell the age of the pages, to see the dancing and the faces of the characters in your imagination. The warm fire is crackling and lightening the words. You flow in the glow and remember. (But surfing the net and drowning in the data is nearing nirvana.)
Another warm image: a vinyl record album, with it's wonderful cover and inner sleeves - some with lyrics you can actually read without help from Walgreens. (But downloading the latest song is pretty good too - better even: I can color laser print the album art to frame for my music room. Never done it, actually, but I could.)
All precious memories, before the times of changes. Those singers and storytellers and writers. I love them still. And sticks and stones, and dance, and art, and I always love to grunt.
Now as we get dragged through yet another time of change, in our inexorable march to greater cultural sophistication, technological mastery and magically coordinated cooperation (Adam Smith's invisible hand and our collective brain), we will decide to take those single steps on our longest journey, sometimes blind and bloated and bleating all the way. We post the words to our little pages during our short stay - always staying within the natural narrative of the story of humanity. We have always done so, and we are always glad we did. We move forward. It's who we are.
Some say - but it's another long story for another long day - that we are all marching toward the singularity, and soon. Maybe.
What I know is that ideas grow and then live forever. The basics we use in our own age are special to us. They will be treasured, even if they no longer lead the way, even if we let them fade away. What has been lasting is humanity.
But still, our ways will always flow, and ebb, and stop or grow. We build on what was past, and make it better. Deep down in our genes and in flowing through our memes, we appreciate that. We know; we are proud of the civilization we are inventing. And we smile at our pictures of the past. Tonight, I'll have happy dreams of how my child self stayed up too late with E.B. White. After I post this on my blog. Weird.
Oh, the knowledge and memories that we enjoyed, and that our progeny will treasure their way during their times.
Books and songs and all our things. They just keep changing. We are born and we die and we each witness a small slice of reality - only a page from the human story. Over the long term, haven't these changes been for the better? After all, we are the best we can be.
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