The Dying art of a hand written letter or Digital Detox.


Maybe I’m a curmudgeon, or a Luddite as many might say, but I find that my old’e fashion ideals of hand writing a letter or note is not that strange or lost to bygone days. It is an art to express one truest feelings on paper. Mistakes are made, a line through a word, or a smear of eraser across a misspelled ideal. No matter the human errors or corrections it has more meaning than a 3 cent text.

I live on the edge of no where in a rural town in Southern Colorado. One of the last wild frontiers next to Montana and Wyoming. The valley is a 100 miles long and 80 miles wide. Less than 36,000 people live in the ENTIRE area. In my neighborhood ( of Black beers, Mountain lions, Lynx, bob Cats, Foxes, Coyotes, Eagles,

I live a quiet secluded life from the wilds of our over technologically dependent society. I have a simple phone what we call a “Burner”. It does what needs to be done when I come down with the Elk to town. (45 miles away) I can call my farmers for fresh cut hay, or to have a cord or two of wood dropped off. I rarely use it, and I like it that way.

Having limited access to the internet and technology helps with ones sanity. Yes, yes it does. So much so it has a name.brain-upgrade-digital-colloid

Digital Detox.

dig·it·al de·tox
  1. a period of time during which a person refrains from using electronic devices such as smartphones or computers, regarded as an opportunity to reduce stress or focus on social interaction in the physical world.

I myself have suffered the technology addiction and lackadaisical attitude of its ease. It made me won-ton lazy about communication, and disconnection from people I should have felt closer too, but the energy is wasted with quips of hellos and how do you dos. So I gave it up with a monthly check in for the sanity of my remaining true friends.

It was easy to do here in the Valley, as I said before. Being in a rural area didn’t enable my craving for instant information. I had to reach out to the world in an old lost way. I wrote postcards and letters. I had more to say, more depth then depravity. I shared my love of nature, asked how wee ones were growing, how the old carried on and what my kin was up to.

Only three replies came fluttering from the many I sent out. Most of my companions failed to acknowledge the token, even when pressed. So I learned to whom I could share my intimate joy of writing, bringing them all back to a level of human interaction.

Now I have three on going pen pals to which I write once a month. Which seems piddly compared to the demand most folks want from myself, or others. Pictures, while worth a thousand words does not always bring the sincere of heart. It is a snippet of a big adventure, and wouldn’t it be better to read the wild tales then guess them?


And this is the bane of my creativity. I watch others, scores of artist become lost to a technological craft that lessons their work, not enhance it. The time spent conversing with others in short jaunts drains the creative tidal pool. It all takes energy.

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The mind is a powerful thing, and you must protect its resources. I avoid as much digital clutter as I do physical, and unplugging, withdrawing from every nuisance is a good thing. It will give your mind time to heal, and create priorities.

Reading, writing, art and my horses bring me back to center. I can share my thoughts with pure words without a loss in translation of emoticons.