Every once in a while, I look at old posts on this blog, and am so grateful for the depth and breadth of experiences that I captured from what seems like a few lifetimes ago, in a place that no longer exists as I remember it. It was a time when cellphones had an amazing diversity of design and personality, when embedded cameras were new, amazing, and not widely available in the US. Websites were like this too, and had a wide variety of design choices, before everything was optimized and standardized. Blogs were written by real humans, whose output was more genuine and unfiltered, typos and all. I rather miss the human element on the modern web, and I find myself not wanting to write with the assistance of anything other than a keyboard and an internet connection. I like many of my flaws and imperfections in thought, writing, and expression in general, and I bet that being exposed to those essential human components is an essential nutrient for health and well-being.
When this blog started, it felt like we were doing something exciting, that not many people were doing yet. I remember that blogs were amazing because they opened up a wide and deep conversation, exposing me to so many perspectives and ideas that were completely novel. I remember feeling the same excitement and a little fear of the sheer scale of experiences available, similar to when I was in elementary school and went to a large library by myself for the first time and allowed my curiosity to guide the experience. It was transformative, and allowed many of us to remotely interact with others around the world, near and far, who we would have never otherwise met or shared an experience with. Remarkably, ads and marketing had not yet invaded this ecosystem – it was the best of times for the internet.
The world was a different place – 9/11 had happened a few years prior when I embarked upon an adventure to live in the super-rural mountain village known as Ubuyama. Though the community was amazingly friendly, generous and supportive, living in a village around 2, 000 people (now closer to 1,300) can be rather isolating for someone who grew up in Southern California. Luckily, DSL had just come to Ubuyama and Justin set me up with the hardware, software, and a Movable Type blog so we could both share our experiences (and play CounterStrike and Battlefield 1942). What started out as a novel distraction ended up being a powerful way to capture, process and share what I was living. How often do we get a chance to really spend the time unpacking and processing life, that benefits from intentional writing, revision, sharing with a public audience, while having the ability to maintain relative anonymity?
Today, as I type this, it feels comforting to not be typing into a chat field with AI, nor to have any intention of outsourcing the review of this post to anyone but myself. It feels nice to not think about SEO or UX from a marketing perspective. It is liberating to take the time to let my mind wander and to let that process of fingers pressing keys flow and convey thoughts moments after they emerge from my mind. It feels like an antiquated and anachronistic alchemical process to an appreciative Luddite.
The only blog I really read anymore is Cosmic Buddha’s Hasty Musings, and I wonder how many of those blogs from the early 2000’s that I used to read still exist and are updated. I think one of the main reasons that I read it is because I get to see the world from an outsider’s perspective, whose pattern recognition sees the extraordinary, the humor, the challenges, and the inspirations that are embedded in everyday life, in a way invisible to the native population. Having to assimilate to another culture conveys a lot of benefits to the depth and breadth of how you see the world around you, and allows you to live more fully (I wish more people had the opportunity to thoughtfully assimilate into another welcoming culture). Writing posts (or creating content) is more of a slog and less rewarding when you are surrounded by the familiar, without the ability to engage in practices and activities that induce neuroplasticity. It’s also easier when you have the opportunity to reflect, something that has grown scarce with the our overtaxed attention.
So what will compel me to blog, now that things have changed? I think it will likely turn out to be food, because that’s where I get to make things, express creativity, and it’s one of the main ways I like to share my time with others. Perhaps it will also be books, as that’s where I find the highest value in interacting with diverse information. Perhaps writing more will prove to be a critical part of a self-sustaining feedback loop that induces neuroplasticity – it’s been nice to write and reflect for the past hour, and to feel that this time has been well-spent.
Thanks Justin, for posting for all of these years, and for keeping this blog alive. In the end, entropy wins, but in this moment it’s nice to build amidst the chaos.