As I alluded to, partially and briefly, in an earlier post, I’ve been thinking lately about the ways that our capitalist economy conditions us to evaluate our activities, the use of our time, our “production,” terms of their market — or at least marketable value. This blog, as an example, would make much more sense to many if it brought me some income. Sometimes, that “many” would include me, just because it would be much easier to explain why I’ve spent so many hours of my life (countless, truly) over the last 14 years writing here. Not only the hours, but also the exposure. Why display aspects of my personal life if I’m not getting any monetary compensation?
Let me quickly qualify myself here and say that I have no bones to pick with those who choose to monetize their social media presence. There are many voices I’d never have read, many thought-provoking ideas I’d never have entertained, and moving images I’d never have seen. . . never mind all the outfits I wouldn’t have been inspired by nor shoes I mightn’t have ben tempted to walk in. . . had it not been for those who have chosen to make a living (and build community) on one of the many platforms we gather ’round daily.
And I’m fortunate that my husband and I, after (decent-economy) decades of working and saving and earning a pension, are comfortable enough financially that I don’t need to derive income from my presence here.
It’s just that somehow — probably a combination of age and retirement and a pandemic-thrown wrench — I’ve been thinking more than ever about Purpose. As in, What’s Mine? I’ve even, for perhaps the first time in my life, been thinking Legacy. Something that never concerned me before because really, once I’m gone, why would I care (since there will no longer be a Me)?
I might get around to thinking more about this — Purpose and Legacy — in this space soon, but it’s the kind of topic I don’t mind sidling up to. Baby steps. Oblique steps.
Now, though, I’m just clearing the way to introduce my exploration of Gift Economy. And since this post already contains an abundance of abstract ideas, I offer you, as a small example of said economy, a card which I recently sent off to a good friend by post. As you can see, the card evolved from my Play with teacups in my sketch journal — so it’s also a Gift I gave myself (Time, Freedom to Play). Also (and I’m shy to say this) it represents my own Gift of Creativity — the inspiration to rip and cut and paste a collection of papers from a magazine onto a blank art-card (Strathmore mixed media), brush on some gouache and then add text with marking pens. . .
Write a catch-up message inside, then just pop it in the mail and imagine her receiving it two or three days later. . .
Snail mail, at least the way it’s done these days, provides great practice in giving without expectation of a return. I’ve sent more cards and little parcels this last year than I have in decades, and I’ve learned that I will never receive a response to, or acknowledgement of, some of these. Turns out I’m fine with that. The recipients might be busy or distracted or ill; they might not keep stationery and stamps in the house; they might feel awkward and not know what to write. Some send me a quick text, maybe a DM via Facebook or Instagram, maybe an email, but some, I like to think, will open the envelope, perhaps smile as they look at the card, know that I was thinking of them, and accept the gesture as a gift with no accompanying obligation.
I’m still developing my thoughts (and my abilities, to be honest) around giving without expectation. One element under consideration is how much the Giving satisfies me — and the undeniable reality that sometimes the Giving doesn’t particularly satisfy the recipient. Bigger questions to consider (or to ignore!) later, or elsewhere. . . .
For now, I will tell you that this particular recipient immediately texted me her pleasure at receiving my card — and accompanied her text with a few laughing emojis. Why amused? Because, she said, I would soon find in my mailbox evidence that we were on the same tea-steeped wavelength. . . If you pop over to my Instagram “Story,” I’ve posted a video showing you the delightful teabag-book she made me — a tiny wonder of her creative gifts manifest in a gift that brightened my spirits.
Canada Post is currently sending each household free postage-paid postcards so that we might reach out to those loved ones we can’t visit in person right now. Isn’t that a great idea?! If you had a postage-paid postcard right now, so that you just needed to add a few quick words and an address, who would you send it off to you? Do you do Snail Mail?
Answers to these questions and anything else that this post evokes for you very welcome in the comments below.
xo,
f
Personally I’ve always loved snail mail. I love picking out commemorative stamps – a habit, pleasure really, that I picked up from my stamp-collecting father. I love nice stationary. I still have the hand-marblized letter and its envelope sent to me by a very creative friend. I save postcards and greeting and birthday cards. These are sentimental treasures to me. But, alas, they are few and far between these days. It would be wonderful to see a revival of letter writing or at least short notes.
slf
I have been notoriously awful at writing notes my whole life…I was pregnant before finishing my wedding thank you's. But I have begun sending cards to my best friend's mother, now 93. She is the only one "left" of the neighborhood moms, one of the village that raised us.
I have such memories of being included in her family's doings-watching Wide World of Disney on a Sunday night, camping on Cape Cod, and later as a young adult attending Christmas Eve services. Additionally she was my Girl Scout leader in elementary school. I learned to make hospital corners when making a bed and lay a fire (for which I earned a badge because my fire was still blazing after a torrential downpour! I think of her every time I take on these tasks. Recently I thanked her for having such a significant influence on my life. Her replies, tainted with dementia, have been sweet, rambling, sad, and sometimes brief. I dread the day when my best friend calls with the news of her mom's passing. Carol in VT
Yes, yes, yes! I've done "snail mail" for years and here's why: Sending e-mail is immediate. . .snail mail means that on a certain day you decided to send someone special to you a card or letter so that on another day or two in the future that someone special finds the card in his/her mailbox (the real box not the In box). The intent is deliberate not spur-of-the-moment. . .which does not mean that I never use e-mail (I do) but, sometimes, a real card is such a pleasure to receive. It is something to hold, to put on a shelf, or to tuck away to be enjoyed all over again another day.
The post (for letters, anyway) is one of the great bargains left. Though we live in the same city, my daughter-in-law has taken to producing photo-postcards of the grandchild we couldn't see in person for the past year. These are so durable that we use them as bookmarks; we love both the little surprise and her attention to us.
I agree that many monetized blogs deliver stimulating, interesting reading. At the same time, some writers whom I have read for years went the monetized route and shifted to endorsing goods, which drives a form of consumption I don't support. I stopped reading those. I prefer the subscription or donation model such as Maria Popova's "BrainPickings".
I recently ordered some postcards that are in the shape of animals but with printed designs on them in various modes (e.g. flower, geometric, etc shapes). The cards are in black and white and one can use fineliner markers to colour in the designs as one wishes. I've been sending weekly cards to a developmentally disabled brother (in his 50s, but mentally about age 5-6) of a friend…usually of birds or animals. He recognizes my name even though we haven't met. Think he will get a kick out of these cards. Will probably randomly begin sending them to some others I know. The individual details are very fine/small–allows for colour creativity.
slf: A kindred spirit, then! (of course, we've already established that;-) There seems to be a resurgence of interest in letter-writing — until pandemic restrictions, a stationery shop in my neighbourhood hosted a monthly letter-writing evening, supplying materials and setting out a collection of manual typewriters for whomever wished to use those.
Carol: I love this! You may not have been (by your own account) a great letter-writer over the years, but those cards to your friend's mom have redeemed you and then some! Such important, tangible recognition you've given her. Beautiful!
Anonymous at 9:04: For me, this is such a significant aspect of sending a card or letter by post. It changes the way communication works in/with time — we've become habituated to almost instant responses or at least being answered with a day. To send a handwritten letter off is so very different, both for sender and recipient. An act of faith that the other will still be there, in a way, some kind of "holding space."
Duchesse: That's so thoughtful of your daughter-in-law (clearly, she understands the value of grandparents to her children's lives and is nurturing the relationship). And, of course, now you'll be getting photos of the new little fellow as well — congratulations!
Mary: Those postcards sound great! I've got some that are designed for colouring and I like the way they extend the whole connection between sender and addressee. And what a great way to enliven your friend's brother's pandemic routine. I like having different kinds of postcards in my stationery box so that when I want to reach out but haven't much energy, I only need add a few words and an address.
Love that you’re expressing your affection and friendship via handmade communication!
I’m inclined to send cards—especially postcards—mostly created as my morning practice and sent off with the reverse-side message written as snippets of imagined, on-going conversations. It saves me attempting great topics, “deep thoughts,” elegant phrases, graceful transitions. ��
My favorite people always let me know a missive arrived. I long ago abandoned the hope I’d get letters in return (even to multi-panel illustrated letters!). Now, I think watercolor/pen/sketch 4×5 postcards are just right. They get a bit beat up in transit, the franking may shadow the front design, and bear no pretense of being serious art.
Canada Post postcards are brilliant. O ����!
I still remember the pleasure and surprise I felt when I received that little Diana Athill book you sent me a couple of years ago. I was surprised and touched and honoured that our budding friendship warranted such a kindness. I am very, very bad at writing and sending letters. As are many of the friends to whom I'd send them if I did write them. One old friend and I always chuckle about the time she came to Ottawa to visit and when she arrived, shew sheepishly handed me a slightly crumpled letter she'd been carrying in her purse for weeks.
P.S. Love, love your collages and mixed media artwork.
I still write a couple of Christmas cards and,occasionally,a card or two during the year. I've always loved beautiful stationary,and long before internet,has,as a lot of you,pen pals all around the world. It was so important for a girl from a socialist country,to have contacts with young girls and boys from Germany,Sweden,Finland,Italy and even with one member of Swiss Guard from Vatican (I used to write in German and read german jounals,so did't have connection with english speaking community).
I see your blog as a kind of legacy for your children and g'children indeed! What a wonderful way to read and remember life and events and photos…it is even more valuable than a book
I've learned so much from your blog about Canada and Vancouver (how would I know that there are snow drops before than in Zagreb? In snowy Canada :)?) And about so many books and authors I love …and I'm so thankful to have met wonderful friends! And got to know so many interesting women!
I don't mind monetizing,there are so many valuable informations as well. If I didn't like it any more,I've stopped following
Dottoressa
I love snail mail, and impromptu little gifts, without expectation of reward. In a way that makes the process more special to me. I am sharing something, giving something, and it is in many ways truly a gift. With an email, or a text there is always that implied need to respond. But so few people stock materials to write, and there is the entire time delay, so somehow I never expect anything back. And if I do get a response, that too feels like a gift and something unexpectedly nice. I am not sure how I would feel if no one ever responded though.
I love your posts. I've followed some monetized blogs and they have expanded my own creativity, but I grow bored. The same alas has been true for me with the subscription blogs as well. I am all excited and then my interest wanes. Please keep delighting me. And do you need purpose? External purpose as in public acknowledgement and reward? or meaning? You touch my life. And it is true that it would probably be different if no one wrote comments, but is that not a purpose too, or a meaning, or at least a connection. I think act is what we are all about, connection, and sometimes purpose gets in the way.
In reference to your comment/musing about having/needing a purpose in life: don’t you think that may be part of our Western, capitalistic, Protestant culture? We must be doing something ( Idle hands etc.) to justify our existence. I also have wondered about a Purpose and am thinking that maybe, just maybe, we have no proscribed purpose. Maybe we should exist more in the present and enjoy what we have. Just random thoughts on a Wednesday afternoon.
D: I have a recipe in your beautiful handwriting — thank you again! Those watercolour postcards are a good idea in so many ways: a manageable size for a daily practice) ready to pin on a board above a workspace or pop in a frame at the end of their journey. They take on a life in ways an email just can't (I'm grateful for email but…), frank marks and all, and then persist in delivering their message for weeks, months, sometimes years to come (I have a boxful of old correspondence I go through every decade or so 😉
Sue: HA! I've done that before with a stamped, addressed envelope that refused to be evicted from my purse. . . . But I've got myself into some habits that work now. Not for everyone, though. (I'm pleased you enjoyed that little book so much — just sent a couple of books off in different directions 😉
Dottoressa: Those letters from penpals — with the stamps from far-off places we'd only seen in books. . . .
I don't know if my grandchildren will see the blog as any kind of legacy, and I suppose I wonder about the longevity of the archive. . . the various service providers and platforms as well, what kind of access will there be 30 years from now, for example. The material trace of hand on paper appeals to me more these days.
But I'm very glad that we have blogs as well — so that we can have a modern version of penpals, and even meet some for coffee in far-off cities 😉 (And I don't much mind the monetization either — like you, I can just stop following — but I don't want the hassle myself).
Mardel: Exactly, so few people these days are in the habit of writing or have materials at hand that I don't expect a response, and the act of sending off a card or letter isn't tied to reciprocity.
Mardel and Pat: Good questions about Purpose to add to my pondering. It's possible that "existing more in the present" IS a purpose, no?
I have been asking myself those "purpose" and "legacy" questions for a while now. Maybe it's because I'm a bit older than you. The "market worth"concept of how our time is spent is another issue. You have material for many blogs if you want to write them. As I become an even older adult, I try to establish my own priorities and boundaries. Perhaps blogs provide us with a small window into a lot of other women's lives. I learn about a variety of subjects and follow some people's recommendations regarding products. If bloggers choose to "monetarize" or to become brand ambassadors, I have no problem. No one is forcing me to read any blog.
I have received some very thoughtful gifts from blog friends. So far, I have not reciprocated but have only thanked. I used to abhor the practise in my family of matching gifts dollar for dollar. Letter writing is indeed a lost art.
My mum still has letters that I wrote 50 years ago and my friend is sorting through years of correspondence between her grandmother in England and her mother in Canada. Treasures!
The value of the happiness produced and exchanged between you and your friend (and all your readers) may be hard to calculate, but still significant!
I found an envelope of unused post cards from Florence and Greece and have been sending them to my kids with notations detailing a fantasy trip. Also fun!
ceci
@Pat Needing a purpose is not exclusive to Western/Protestant culture. It's the same in Asian culture, too. And probably the same the world over. That's one of the reasons it's so difficult for older people who feel they have lost their purpose in life.
slf
Mme: Yes, it seems to have to do with age; I've been thinking about it for a bit as well.. . . isn't it fascinating to look at those letters we wrote (or were written to us) so many decades ago?!
Ceci: I love this idea! And I suspect many of us have leftover postcards from trips when we were too busy to write/post them — perfect for connecting and sharing daydreams right now.
Purpose – funny coincidence that you wrote about this now. At 65, I expected this pondering, a recalibration so to speak. I continue to question what my purpose is and slowly accepting that it can change, contract, expand in different life stages. Examining what I do and hoping the hints are there.
Thank you for your generosity in time and thoughts.
Maudie: It's a big recalibration, isn't it? And this past year we've had more time to ponder it and for some of us, some of what we thought we'd set as Our Purpose was either impossible, difficult, or inadvisable: whether volunteer work or taking classes or finding paid work in a new sector or getting to know and help nurture grandchildren. . . So, as you say, we're "slowly accepting that [our purpose] can change, contract, expand" . . . Thanks for the comment and for the kind words.