Quick: Pencil or pen?

 

Remember the expression "putting pen to paper"? Traditionally, it simply means to write something, anything, but the current usage requires specification - distinguishing the technical act of writing with a pen on paper from composing email, for example. Think I'm exaggerating? See the Free Dictionary's section on idioms.

Well, if you had your choice of implement in that technical act of writing on paper (or parchment or vellum, or whiteboard, for that matter,if you prefer)...what would you use?

 

Fountain pen?

Quill?

#2 pencil? 

Magic marker?

Highlighter?

Crayon? 

Rolling ink pen?

Ballpoint pen?

Chalk? (with appropriate chalkboard or sidewalk)

Charcoal? 

Sharpie? 

Would you choose a color? Which one? Or do you prefer black ink? Or blue? Or the comforting grey of graphite?

 

Do you like to glide smoothly over paper? Or the scritch-scratch of a sharpened pencil? What about the blotting of inky ink (on the side of your hand too, of course)? Or the smudgy shadows of charcoal?

 

I used to take notes with a blue medium ballpoint pen - and only a blue medium ballpoint pen. Now, I'm inclined to be more colorful, as I draw my own attention to different categories or subtle points using different inks. My handwriting, however, is not as clear with the steady line of liquid ink. Beyond the deterioration in fine-motor coordination for which I may blame the keyboard, the "fine-point" pen of 7mm is too fluid for my rapid penmanship, and the careful loops and spikes that form letters are blurred.

 

In The Art of the Handwritten Note: A Guide to Reclaiming Civilization, Margaret Shepherd argues well that a handwritten note highlights its message by the very virtue of the fact that it is handwritten. She claims that the handwritten note has been elevated to an art form, and it in turn upgrades a message because it is less common than email. Most importantly, she reminds her readers that "[i]nk on paper is still the classiest way to express the thoughts that really matter, on the occasions that really count" (p. xiv). I tend to agree, and will extend her "art form" to include the fun that crayons herald, the nuance of charcoal, the importance announced by magic markers, and the sheer elegance of calligraphy.

 

Then again, the art of the handwritten note is no longer in vogue. Handwriting is not what it once was, nor even what it became after that! (My grandmother writes with copybook elegant penmanship; in contrast, I was told that my scribble "...looks legible..."). There's little need for pen or pencil, except for scrawling down a grocery list (not even that, if you use your phone), or a quick love note on a post-it. As always, it's a choice. Choosing pen or pencil has definite advantages (personality, convenience, degrees of formal/casual). But for good old fashioned communication, these days the technical act of putting writing implement to paper loses well to the new, less dignified technology (with which I do indeed write here). 

So Much Unfairness of Things

(With apologies to C.D.B.Bryan, and his excellent short story, one of the most memorable from my own schooling, to the extent that I later foisted it upon a new generation of English students. For more, see his son's blog)

I began this blog at the impetus of a friend, but I had "something to write about" because I was in the throes of making a decision, and the process made me think about how people arrive at their decisions in such different ways...and how much "decision-making" permeates everything we do, always.

I emerged from those throes, and proceeded to conduct myself in accord with my decision. But choosing what we want to do is not (always) enough. Knowing what I wanted - and acting on it - did not bring me to the desired results. And that's the "so much unfairness." It's a shame when things don't turn out how we want...but when you grapple with pros and cons, and finally make conclusions and act on them...that's more than things not turning out as you want them to turn out. Of course, I learned long ago that life is not fair - probably everyone has confronted aspects of their lives turning out differently from what they'd hoped for. But it's not fair that it's not fair.

For all that I say this, I'm not actually morose. To some extent - sometimes, to a great extent - things are out of our hands. Mostly, I think, we all just continue along, even when things don't go our way - even when we work to have them go our way. Which means that there's always a new decision to make...in light of the new circumstances (in this case, that the last thing didn't work out). I'm not always a fan of having to make decisions, but I've always been a big fan of having decisions to make.

And honestly, I'm grateful that in the scheme of the world, my choices are challenging because they are mine to make, but rarely because they are actually - objectively - deep, dark challenges. Thankfully.

The Ides of March...and Adar

Mid-month seems to have significance, go figure.

Julius Caesar had good reason to beware this fifteenth day of March, but it always seemed a favorable time to me (albeit for no good reason that I can recall).

The fifteenth of the Hebrew month of Adar is Shushan Purim, the day that the holiday of Purim is celebrated in Jerusalem to commemorate a battle in the ancient city of Shushan that was not yet complete by the fourteenth (when the rest of the world was already celebrating).

 

What impresses me most about Purim in the context of this blog is the historic decision of Queen Esther to act against her individual interest for the sake of her communal interest.

A word of explanation for any readers unfamiliar with the story: a decree had been sent to the far reaches of King Ahasuerus' realm (from what is today's Ethiopia on the one side to India on the other) that the Jews of the kingdom were to be put to death on the fourteenth of Adar. Unbeknownst to the king, his queen hailed from the Jewish people. Esther's uncle prevailed upon her to request the king's mercy for her people. But she was wary of approaching the king when he hadn't summoned her; after all, her predecessor, Vashti, had been summarily dismissed (whether exiled or executed) for her refusal to appear before the court when the king called for her. The opposite defiance, to be sure, but Esther knew well that this was a king who required compliance.

The Swooning of Esther, Antoine Coypel, 1704
(only one of many artists' conceptions of Esther fainting before the king)

In response to her concern that initiating with the king might prove suicidal, Mordechai, the Jewish uncle, presented her opportunity to act in stark terms. He suggested that her presence on the throne was by divine design, to enable her to save the Jewish people with her daring. Or alternatively, the Jewish people would be saved by other means - in accordance with the divine will - in which case, Esther and her family's name would be lost to history - a less tangible (and therefore potentially less threatening) kind of suicide.

How rare! - For an individual's decision to carry (potentially) the fate of a people. It is not easy to envy Esther her life-and-death quandary, though we know it turned out well (she approached the king, names the culprit who decreed against her people, and the king rescinds the decree on behalf of his queen). After all, Esther did not know the end of her own story. And yet...

Rembrandt's Ahasuerus and Haman at the Feast of Esther
Note his famous use of light and dark to highlight the good and hide the bad.

How differently we all might act if we knew the ends of our own stories. How much would we have done differently thus far? How much would we do differently going forward? But we have no choice but to act in the moment, with our eyes to the future and a nod to the past. Which is why Esther's decision to act for the sake of the Jewish people, risking her own safety and well-being is impressive. In the absence of prophecy, being able to see beyond the moment is indeed enviable - even for decisions that are not as far-reaching as Esther's.

Note: Purim was celebrated a week ago, and Shushan Purim, in Jerusalem last Friday. It's a topsy-turvy day on the Jewish calendar, and I write about it in this untimely way rather than squander the opportunity, as the myriad lessons from last week carry forward.