On Impermanence, Writing Letters, and Film Photography

We live in a fast paced world. Information is constantly whizzing by, and we’re focused on productivity and efficiency. We must get as much done in a day as humanly possible, otherwise we are just wasting time. Time is money.

In this world of fast paced fast food the idea of doing something the old fashioned way makes little sense. But there are people who choose the slower way, even the less reliable way. It can actually be more rewarding, depending on your mindset. There’s something about the old ways, the tried and true ways. There’s something about writing a letter with a nice pen, or putting on a record, or winding up a roll of exposed film. It’s easy to say this is just romanticism, and it might be. But I feel like there is an underlying philosophy of loss and reward that could be interesting to explore.

I recently wrote about non-attachment to the results of action. This type of action-oriented living goes against the goal oriented world that most of us occupy but I want to hash out a bit more how this way of thinking can be rewarding.

Part of it is sentimentalism, romanticism, or nostalgia. That shouldn’t take away from the meaning behind it. We value things that are valuable to us, for whatever reason. Our perception gives things value, often tied to meaning and story.

Film photography

The difference between taking 800 pictures with the idea that you can just delete the ones you don’t like, versus the idea in film that you need to think ahead. You need to be more thoughtful, you need to be much more deliberate, more skilful, more present, you have to know what you’re doing, and even after all of that care — it still may not come out right. That one frame that you exposed becomes one of a kind, and because it had to go through a process which at any moment could be completely ruined, the fact that it survives makes it more valuable. Moreover, the satisfaction can increase. It is more valuable because it is the only one, not one of 10 that you can choose from. One. It’s more realistic, more like life.

We rarely get do-overs, and we have to take what comes. The fact that we do have more choice may actually work against us and make us less satisfied (See related Ted Talks lecture).

It’s an individual and unique moment in time that can’t be repeated and can’t be observed second by second in a shutter burst.

The other outcomes are lost, you have this one precious moment and that’s all you have.

Writing a letter or journal

It slows the whirring mind. It causes you to think ahead. It takes more time, it’s a process. I is made up of multiple pieces of equipment including pen, paper, envelope, stamp, possibly a trip to the post office, and if it does end up arriving at the recipient, it is seen as a relic. It is now a one of a kind journey via a piece of paper that does not exist on some server somewhere, it cannot be resent. This makes it more valuable. Hand-written letters tend to be kept for a long time. Sure, emails can be backed up, but letters being ephemeral are precious, and the act is precious, and the receiving is precious.

A letter is a Little Life, it begins with a thought then an act of creation, a ‘spewing forth’ of smaller pieces which make up the whole Language Then there’s the mechanics, the process, and upon arrival is seen as a gift, unique and precious, something which is no longer a thought but a physical reality that can be interacted with.

The risk of loss can make the thing more rewarding (if it actually survives, or for as long as it does survive).

The Gods made man mortal, life they kept for themselves. What makes life precious is that it can end at any moment.

One has to come to terms with loss, and become unattached to the result of action. The image may not come out, the letter may not arrive.

Tibetan monks have a ritual related to the Sand Mandala. These Mandalas are created ritualistically with coloured sand, beautifully ornate and decorative. Some can takes weeks to create. Then, when it is finished, it is destroyed. This is to teach about the transitory nature of life, and I would imagine, a little bit about non-attachment as well.

Even though this thing which takes time and thought may not survive, should you still do it?

Sand Mandala by Kelly Mason

I think yes, if you can bring yourself to enjoy the process itself.

The action is something which can be enjoyed, not simply the result of action.

If it does not survive, it is lost, and there is nothing you can do to bring it back. The letter cannot be rewritten with the same self-discovery that it had the first time you wrote it, even if you get all the words right — they are still thoughts which are being repeated, almost stagnant once they are let out. The image cannot be repeated, especially if it is not a staged event, that moment is lost forever. You have to come to terms with it. This is how life works.

Of course these risks exist in the digital age as well, the server may crash, the camera may drop in the water, the hard drive may be fried by a bolt of lightning!

The focus is on the survival. What remains afterwards is more precious, because it is unique and because of what it had to get through to exist, and the knowledge that even though it has survived the process of creation and/or receiving, it begins to deteriorate from the moment it is created. It will not last 100 years, and if it does, it will be faded, moldy, yellowed — and guess what — more valuable.

[The images in this post are commercially licensed stock photos, unless otherwise stated]

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