Cartography of the Mind (Part 7 of 17)

The following are excerpts of an illuminated book sent from Liza to the group. As usual, we publish typed excerpts of these along with the original photo. The best way is to read the text, of course, is to to experience it in its illuminated form.

Though I'm sure you've not forgotten, I'll remind you all the same: the process of creating (is of) ≥ (importance as) the product created. Some may even say: the process = (is) the product. I am one of these.

And this is a reason of several, you see, why I strive to saturate the pixelated world with tangible (and) "terrestrial artifacts" in various stages of completion. It is not about adapting ourselves by conforming to the digital world's standards; it's about transforming these rigid regulations to accomodate our growth (and therefore the growth of others). From the inside out, remember. While I certainly can't speak for others, I can attest that my reason for cling to outdated modes of communication, entertainment, expression, and living have nothing to do with rear-view mirrors or bonanzaland comforts. I cling not as a "refusal to live in our own age"; I cling, rather, as a conscious effort to control the environment my brain adapts to; I cling in order to maintain a differentiation, for myself, between growth and stagnation; I cling so that I can not only fully live in our own age, but also "keep the doors open to these [outdated] places where [contemplation] can [still] happen" (Pico Iyer). I cling to stay alert, I cling to resist delusion and modernity's temptuous lure toward mindless living. I cling so that I may, in these daily devotions, discover the joy of letting go. And I cling, at last, out of a Merton-fueled yearning to [be].

"In the world, not of it." And so I cling and I cling...