The Beauty of a Blinking Cursor

I’m not much of a rule person, but two that have proved invaluable are: ‘Never read a book without a pen handy’ and ‘Never watch movies without a ready remote control’.
Writing in the margins of books (that I own) has not only upped the ante of how deeply I’m willing to engage a text, but as I return to old favorites, I also encounter the thoughts I had during my previous reads. My copy of Walking on Water isn’t just Madeleine L’Engle’s reflections on faith and art, it’s also my own story of reading it for over ten years. All my questions, arguments and exuberant under-linings are right there in the margins, annotating the published text. My books aren’t just books anymore, they’re dialogue transcripts.
Likewise, watching movies at my house is more panel discussion than passive entertainment. We never talk over the film (a punishable crime) but instead hit the pause button at moments where we find ourselves questioning or realizing something significant about the character or story. Sound obnoxious? Maybe to some, but I’ve learned things from dialogical movie-watching with my friends that a textbook could never teach me. With our watching, pausing and talking, we draw each other deeper into the guts of the narrative and the human heart of the characters.
In the same way that pens and remote controls have revolutionized my reading and viewing practices, so blogging has changed the way I go about my daily life. Unlike keeping a personal diary, blogging on the internet is more about meaning-making than event recording. In a manner unprecedented in any time of human history, millions of people have the ability to reflect on, write about and respond to their culture and to have those thoughts made accessible to a near-universal degree. Further, as a blogging population we’re not just saying how nice the recital was or how tragic the crime was, we’re drawing conclusions, making comparisons, theorizing, advising and making claims. Suffice to say, when we blog, we are writing and dialoguing in the margins of our newspapers and artwork frames. When we blog, we’re integrating our experiences and observations into the very culture we are responding to.
What this means to me as a blogger is that as I ride the bus, do homework, eat dinner with my friends, chat with my boss or serve Communion, the cursor is always blinking. Not in a demanding or distracting way- but rather as a reminder to look closely, listen well and make connections. Through blogging, I’m able to wonder about and wrestle within the space between pop culture and liturgy, food and storytelling, heartbreak and the Incarnation. In maintaining my tiny corner of the internet, I’m trying to work out the meaning of what I see, what I hear, what I have lived and what I hope for. While I do this with friends, family and mentors as well, the discipline of blogging creates space for reflection and integration that is uniquely challenging and inspiring. It’s no longer just my margin notes, but your comments and commentaries that reframe the way I try to live faithfully and love well. When we blog, we are reading, watching and interpreting together, and the text is the world we live in. I’d love to see what you’re writing on it.
Kj Swanson is currently in her 3rd year at Mars Hill Graduate School in the Masters of Divinity program. You can read more of Kj’s writings on theology, culture, and scarf-making on her personal blog.
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