the cassandra pages

Process

It's not like I don't have plenty of work to do. So why was it that yesterday I gave into the increasingly insistent urges and began a new quilt?

It's Lent. It's still mid-winter, and freezing cold, and monochromatic up here. Those are reasons for craving color, for sure, but there are lots of ways to get more color in your life - like wearing hot pink, which I'm doing today too; yesterday was orange. But no, it's more than that. It occurred to me last night that this is a kind of longing-for-spring quilt: green for leaves, roses and reds for flowers, brown for earth. When I was pulling out the fabrics, all that was subliminal.

I feel better when I have something like this to work on, a little bit at a time. It's amazing to me how much I look forward to it each day. Sewing, or bookbinding, or the actual process of cutting relief blocks or making prints all do this for me, while knitting, on the other hand, tends to be too repetitive for me; I like the planning but not the doing, so much -- but that's just me. Painting can be quite difficult, demanding, and often fraught, like serious writing. Maybe I just like the process of making practical things - real objects - without a client or deadline or the prospect of submission looming in the background. Maybe it's an escape from, or antidote to, other kinds of work which generally involve commitments to others or to something more demanding within myself. Whatever it is, work that involves a lot of "process" seems to be therapeutic, calming, spiritually and emotionally helpful. I realize that I've turned away from this too often in recent years, as a way to rest and recharge.

This has also been the first week of an experiment: I've gone off Facebook for at least the rest of Lent, not so much as  "fast" or giving up of something pleasurable -- I wanted to see if I felt more focused without it. After one week, I can say that the answer is definitively yes. I check FB once a day, in the late evening, and don't spend more than five minutes doing a quick look at any messages and notifications. Unless something really needs a response -- a friend's father died a few days ago, for instance, and I didn't see that until today -- I'm trying not to comment or "like" very much at all, and I'm not posting anything but links to new posts here. We'll see how it feels after several weeks, but so far, I don't miss it. I like the way my mind feels without the chattering input, and there are some other aspects of self-perception that are beginning to be more apparent. More on that as I, ahem, piece it together.

The medium is the message

I've been away from Twitter and, somewhat less so, FB, for a number of days. That was partly a choice and partly because I've just been working hard and haven't had time to  spend on much else. Today I took a look, and saw that the scrolls -- no surprise -- are dominated by people's comments on the death of Robin Williams, and a whole pile of posts and advice about depression, mental illness, and suicide.

I don't want to take anything away from the sincerity of people's sadness and shock, or the value of focussing on mental health issues. It's just clear that this is the latest "heartfelt-concern-of-the-moment." And I wonder if it's actually symbolic of what makes many people in our culture feel insignificant and depressed.

We've all become accustomed to the online empathy curve, in which there's an outpouring of emotion when a disaster or death occurs, everyone jumping on the tear-and-tribute-filled bandwagon for a few days, until the next event occurs, or everyone has had their say and, like sated guests at a Roman banquet, simply fall asleep, unable to consume or spew any more. In some ways, it seems like the social networks are made for this sort of group catharsis.

Woody Allen's "To Rome With Love" pokes exaggerated fun at the cult of celebrity when an insignificant clerk (played perfectly by the wonderful Roberto Benigni) is suddenly pursued by a huge crowd of reporters who want to know every detail of his mundane life, from how he butters his toast to how he spilled the coffee that morning on his tie. He becomes an instant celebrity. Beautiful women suddenly want to sleep with him; he gets the best seats in all the restaurants; a chauffeur, a new office; strangers come up to him in the street wanting his autograph. This goes on for several days, alternately delighting him and driving him nuts, until, just as suddenly, he's deserted and discarded when the flock of reporters sees someone else on the street who looks "even more fascinating."

Most of us, of course, are not celebrities at all. I realize that I'm able to look in on the social networks, and choose to turn away or not, because I'm fairly healthy, busy, and have a lot of support and love and affirmation in my life. But there are a lot of people out there who don't have that. By the same token, when I pay attention to my emotional state, I realize that it isn't particularly good for me to spend too much time there; I see how manipulative a medium it is, and how it plays with some of my basic human fears, and desires for attention and "success." I can't see how a medium (perfectly reflecting the culture behind it) that avidly picks up and then discards real human suffering in a matter of days, and quantifies our participation with "likes" and "favorites" can be healthy or helpful for people with low self-esteem, and/or mental and emotional fragility. Nothing I say is going to change anything about that, but I feel the need to note it on this day when we're steeped in talk of depression. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I find too much participation in the social networks quite depressing, in and of itself.

Many people have found a virtual support group or online community around particular issues, and that's one of the web's great virtues: I value my online friendships hugely too, and I do feel supported by them: especially by those people whom I've actually met in person. Those relationships and conversations, whether via email or online groups or on blogs, feel deeper and far less transient than on the social networks, of which I guess I've been a pretty consistent critic, as well as a user.

But when night falls, or the days go by one after another, and we actually realize we're alone, how do we cope in our real worlds, in our everyday lives? Are we building friendships next door, is there someone who can come over or meet us in the park, put an arm around our shoulder or lend an ear when we're hurting? Are we there for them, too? Are we involved in our communities, in organizations that bring us into contact with other people? Do we know our neighbors? Because we are embodied creatures living in real places with other embodied creatures; we have eyes that see far more and communicate greater depths of meaning than any word written on a computer screen can convey; we are complex beings whose silence, as we sit next to an empathetic friend, is full and rich, while our computers and phones simply turn on and off.

Survey Results

A huge thank-you to everyone who took the Cassandra Pages reader survey over the past week. (It's still open, and if you haven't responded and would like to, I'm very interested in hearing from you!)

So far 69 people have responded, which seems like a large number to me. This blog has about 180 average daily page views, and I really don't know how many people read it per week anymore. Whatever it is, this seems like a high percentage of respondents.

As for the results, here's what you said.

The early responses were, predictably, from the people who use feed readers and came from social networking sites (in my case, that would only be FB and Twitter), but over time the blogroll/bookmarks took over and ended up being half the respondents. In the "other" category were quite a few people who just type in the URL. These results indicate to me that plenty of people still use traditional ways of reading and accessing information online.

 Again, I was surprised: I thought fewer people were using their computers to read blogs. Since this was a "check all that apply" question, nearly everyone still uses a computer to read, even if about a quarter of them also use a tablet, and 18% a phone.

 Another surprise! I was worried that I was posting too much about art, but almost everyone said these were among their favorite posts. Places/travel came in second, with spirit/ideas, people/stories/memoir, and literature/books/music pretty much tied. I guess the original Cassandra Pages description of "arts and culture, place and spirit" has been pretty consistent and is still why people come here.

 Wow! A quarter of the readers who responded have never commented, but cared enough to fill out the survey. I appreciate hearing from you this way very much, and if you never want to comment again, that's just fine.

 Makes perfect sense.

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In the optional "feedback" field, I received 39 personal responses -- also unexpected, and for which I'm very grateful. Many of them were about technical blog matters, and the overwhelming recommended platform was WordPress. But there were also some general comments about the blog, and a number from people who said they hadn't ever commented. Here are a few favorites:

"Blog continues to delight and inform me. It is the only blog I still read from way back when I discovered blogs."

"I continue to read this blog because of the decency, depth, and generosity of the entries. The good humor doesn't hurt either."

"Love the variety and the art and MTL especially. Big fan- sorry for not commenting ever!"

"Cassandra Pages is one of the blogs I've read the longest, so it has sentimental value as well as intellectual and artistic value to me."

"Love the blog and your home town in Canada, despite the extremely long winters you seem to get!" (from the UK)

"You are awesome and should you decide to move, I will follow you to the ends of the interwebs."

"Change the technology as much as you like, but never the still small voice."

I've always felt I had the best readers in the blogosphere -- knowing you're out there makes all of this worthwhile, including the work that will be involved if I ever pack up and move. Thanks again to all of you!

Reader Survey

Grrr! TypePad has been down again today, for the third time this month. This outage wasn't nearly as long, but it's still both frustrating and disconcerting: if enough people jump ship, the company will be shakier than it already is, and could go under, which would be a lot worse. I've been quite happy with TypePad for a long time, but am considering my options. Moving a blog this big would be daunting and time-consuming, but I may have to do it anyway as a longterm plan to protect the content.

As I consider what to do, I'm curious: it would help me a lot if regular readers could let me know how you usually come here: via a feed reader, via your own blogroll, via social networking sites, via a bookmark, or some other way, and also whether you read the blog on your computer, your phone, or a tablet. If you've got a second, could you fill out the poll below? Thanks a lot! please be sure to click "DONE", at the bottom, when you're finished. Have a great weekend!

Create your free online surveys with SurveyMonkey , the world's leading questionnaire tool.

Well, that was strange...but I'm back

TypePad was the victim of a DDoS attack last weekend (maybe perpetrated by the mother of all those chocolate Easter bunnies) and ended up being down for about six days. If you tried to visit here and got an "unknown domain" message, that was why. It was certainly frustrating, and a bit scary, for those of us who use this blogging platform. On the other hand, I've been using their service for eleven years and have never had a problem before, so I'm not about to jump ship. There are some questions about how long Typepad will remain as a viable platform; this is the bigger "if" for me, but the work involved in switching to WordPress is pretty daunting for someone like me who has such an extensive archive. For the time being, I'll sit tight, but consider the options.

Meanwhile, back to posting -- coming soon, photos of Easter at the cathedral, and spring valiantly trying to arrive.

Comment Question

Two people have told me recently that they've left comments that have never appeared on the site. Has this happened to you? Please let me know.

Macro- and Micro-Economies

"At What Price Progress?" is the first in a series I'm writing at Phoenicia Publishing to encourage discussion about about the future of poetry (and other forms of writing) in the challenging new publishing environment. Hope you'll go over and read it there; this is a typical Cassandra series (but I decided to post there to encourage visits to the new site.)

"It's obvious that as the larger publishing houses merge and find themselves squeezed financially, taking risks on experimental, innovative writing - especially where the audience may be limited - has already become less and less viable. Academic publishing and journals are becoming, in my opinion, an increasingly  insular club. So, for truly creative writing, writing by people who don't fit into the existing systems, writing that crosses genres and boundaries and takes risks -- the sorts of things that small presses and independent bookstores once championed -- online publishing is one of the only remaining solutions. Doesn't some of that work also deserve to be in print?  Yes. But we've yet to figure out how the economy of it can work for everyone's benefit."

On the Click Track

Via Yule Heibel, this article is the best explanation I've seen of the brain chemistry behind our addictions to Twitter, texting, email and other types of seductive/obsessive behaviors.

Commenting problem?

Have you been having intermittent trouble making comments here? I've gotten a couple of messages over the past few days from people who haven't been able to leave comments, though I haven't turned commenting off on anything. Please let me know, if so.

Micro-choses

That's probably not a real word in French or in English, but micro-things is what I'm thinking about this evening. (That and how much I want to get my contact lenses out of my eyes...) It's been a long day of concentration for singing and computer work, and I'm looking forward to a cup of tea and maybe a little piano playing before heading to bed with a book.

After a few months of flirting with microblogging, and not really getting very involved, I'm now experimenting, inspired by friends who are using the medium creatively rather than merely for status updates. Right now I'm just writing a daily prose-poem-ish micro-thing, but I may start connecting them together in some way, or doing something entirely different. If you'd like to follow along, or let me know your own feed, please do. I'm here on Twitter, and here on Identi.ca; and there is also a link to Twitter in the left-hand sidebar now.

The Victorian crazy quilt shown above isnt exactly a micro-thing when seen all together but when you look closely, it certainly is a collection of very small movements of hand and thread. My grandmother bought the individual blocks at an auction, 50 or 60 years ago now, and never got around to putting them together, though she did do a lot of work on completing the embroidery which had been started back in the 1890s. All the blocks are made of fancy fabrics - silks and velvets and laces - and some have endured the years better than others. Once in a while she and I would lay all the blocks out on the floor and speculate about how to put them together, turning them this way and that, and shifting them around the rectangle like pieces in a shell game. And then one Christmas she wrapped the whole thing up and put it under our tree with my name on it, saying, "It's your turn," which really meant - "You do it - I know I'm not going to." And one day, a while after she died in her ninety-second year, I did, making a large wall-hanging from the pieces I liked best. It's hung in our Vermont home ever since.

That's the thing about quilting, and especially crazy quilts with all their little bits of color and stitching: scraps worked together with attention and creativity add up to something after a while. And so, maybe, it can be with microblogging, though I am still just kneeling on the floor starting to push pieces around.