Sharon wrote: Normally, we endure and perhaps buy into a disdain for a medium which supposedly supplants human contact.
I had to think about this for a moment. It's not a complete shock for me to read this, but I have to say that "normally" is not an adjective I associate with this thought. I live, as someone observed to me yesterday, in "the land that time forgot". (And I'm speaking geographically, here!) I am reminded of this when I chat with internet friends around the country. I can't put my finger on it, but I know that there is a degree to which my cultural experience is not that of the typical American, for better or worse.
Blogging strikes me as a responsibility. I have no illusions of my thoughts being necessary enlightenment for the world. But I realize that I must live with consciousness.
I think best in writing. I spend my days with my two children (6 and 3), and I find it necessary for me to write in order to process what happens in my heart. If I could attach a video of my current surroundings, you'd get a great visual of what I mean!
What is more, blogging brings me a level of accountability to the fullness of my reality. I don't want my identity to get reduced down to being a CL person or an unschooler or an adoptive mom or a mom or even "a Catholic." To live authentically, I need to own my own thoughts and not simply try to "fit in" to various roles or with various people I know. So as I process what happens in my life and my heart, I am aware of all these faces, all these people who make up my life (who may or may not actually read my blog -- that part is far less important to me than knowing they exist).
I think in a way the feeling that this type of work is not important comes from the same root as feeling that there is no value to something unless you can touch it, sit on it, eat it, wear it, or sell it. Isn't this what poets rebel against?